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He didn’t think he’d be able to touch her ever again.

Not in the most innocent of ways and certainly never like this, but all of a sudden he is.

That has a knot forming in his throat and his fingers shivering against her skin.

It’s the first time in years that he’s made contact with anyone and didn’t brace for pain.

Something else catches his attention, peeking out from under the hem of her shirt. He follows the hint of a scar, revealing a long-healed burn running lengthwise across the middle of her back. This one, he remembers.

“It’s from the stove burner when we were teenagers, remember?” she offers. “I mouthed off at him while he was drunk, and he bent me backward over the stove he was cooking dinner on.”

Wade was at some other house, with some other shit family, while this was happening. Didn’t know until he saw her again months later.

She doesn’t balk or object when he spreads a gentle hand across the evidence of a past life. She is an open book, ready to let him finger through each and every page. He only wishes he could offer her the same.

Now that he’s here, it’s so tempting to keep going. Wants to bend forward and wrap himself around her, press his face to the back of her neck, and inhale deep. She might let him, but the moment he sways in her direction, that familiar twisting in his gut stops him cold.

This sort of thing is only possible when she’s facing away from him, and the blanket of darkness muffles a few of his demons.

Anything else is dangerous. He’s not ready to see her face while they’re touching, not ready for anything that he isn’t initiating himself.

Seeking the comfort he craves could only backfire the moment she turns around.

Frustration battles with need until he pulls away, instantly regretting it.

He misses her so badly it shatters him until she turns again and that bright, beaming smile convinces him he’s done something right.

He may feel like he’s taken a giant step backward, but she’s watching him as if he’d leaped a canyon.

He lets her happiness settle where self-doubt grows, leans his head back against the wall, and wishes he could skip the next few weeks or months to land somewhere where he isn’t such a shivering mess.

* * *

They’re having breakfast on the bed the next morning when it shows up for the first time.

Wade drops his fork, his voice almost childlike with wonder. “There’s a dog.”

It’s brown and wet from another rainstorm, chasing a squirrel up a tree.

Kara follows his stare out the window to the puppy about to climb the fence into their backyard.

She watches with rapt attention, her mouth curving up in a bewildered grin. “He’s climbing it. Why? There’s no food in the yard.”

“We should feed him.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Just a little. See if he’ll take it.”

What he’s really saying is that Kara should feed the dog because he’s still too inept to go out there.

Can’t step food outside this house yet when he’s only just begun to get his bearings.

The bedroom, the bathroom, even the living room if he tries hard enough, are all safe, but that’s the extent of his zone at the moment. Not even a dog can change that.

“Okay. We don’t have any meat, but maybe he’ll eat…some apple? Do dogs like apples?”

He shrugs. “Let’s find out.”

The moment she leaves, his pulse races but he told her to feed the damn dog and he can sit here alone for all of five minutes while she does.

It’s fine. He’s fine. There’s a shotgun by the door and Kara has a gun on her hip. He can do this.

He focuses on the dog teetering at the top of the fence, four paws balancing precariously on the pole before he tumbles into the yard, landing in a jumble of long legs, then trots around like he’s proud of himself.

Probably done this before and found food in other yards so he assumes the same is true here.

Unfortunately for him, Kara comes attached to anything edible. The dog is anything but pleased about that.

The moment he sees her, his fur stands on end, and he barks like she’s intruding on his personal space. Can’t be more than a few months old, but he puffs up like he stuck his tail in a light socket.

Kara could punt him if she had to, but he doubts it’ll come to that. The dog is just afraid. Doesn’t know he can trust her yet. No doubt spent his whole life seeing nothing but rotters trying to make him a meal.

He sniffs at the apple slice she tosses his way before inhaling the fruit without chewing. Won’t come to her but he eats several more pieces and then bolts back over the fence and into the woods.

She gives Wade a defeated shrug through the window before heading inside.

“He’ll be back,” Wade tells her when she returns. “You fed him. Won’t be able to shake him now.”

Her brow raises, tone sassy. “Oh, is that how this works?”

“Yep. You’re good at taming strays.”

“One of my many skills. Good thing I don’t want to shake him.”

Things are so much lighter this morning than they were the night before, and not all of that is because of the dog. Her smile is quicker, and any trace of the woman who busted out two taillights in a fit of rage is long gone. For now.

He may not have the will to try harder for himself, but he has all the desire in the world to keep her this happy.