Page 65 of To the Chase

“Wow. That’s a cool game. If I played, both pictures would probably turn into blobs.”

She snickered. “You’re a bad artist?”

“No, I just like blobs,” I deadpanned.

She nodded sagely. “What kind? Rainbow sparkly blobs would be cool.”

I squeezed her tiny hand. “How’d you guess my favorite kind?”

She shrugged. “I’m smart like Uncle Sally, I guess.”

Talon and Benjamin skidded to a stop in front of us. “Come on, Lace. We’re going to have a race.”

I waved at him. “Hi, Tally. You know, I’m here too.”

His brow creased. “I know. Benjamin can’t come over by himself.”

Leave it to an eight-year-old to lay down the cold, hard facts. “Notyet. I bet he’s plotting how to do that, though.”

Talon gave me another skeptical once-over then took off down the yard, Benjamin hot on his heels, ears flapping like he might take flight. Lacey’s fingers wiggled free from mine, and she chased after them, laughter trailing behind her like streamers.

Propped against the deck railing, I watched them play for a while. Benjamin might have kept going forever, but the kids began to flag. I called him over, and he came, tongue lolling and eyes bright, his springy energy finally dipping.

“Come on, wild man.” I gave him a pat. “Time to go home.”

Lacey hugged me goodbye, so hard she vibrated. It was sweet, and I liked it, albeit reluctantly. Kids still weren’t my thing, but I was considering making an exception for this one.

Talon gave me an obligatory wave, already turning back to Benjamin like I was borrowinghisdog for the night. If I hadn’t been thekeeper of the good snacks, Benjamin probably would have dumped me for Talon in a heartbeat.

By the time we got back to my place, Benjamin had downgraded from springs to cinder blocks. I barely got the door closed before he flopped, full body, onto the rug with a long, theatrical sigh.

“You okay down there, bud?” I asked as I toed off my shoes.

He gave a quietwhuffI decided to take asbarely hanging on.

I flopped onto the couch and reached for my phone, half thinking I should check emails. The first thing I saw was a message from Tore.

Tore:How are you?

A swell of relief threatened to sweep me under. I hadn’t even realized how tense I’d been since saying good night to him yesterday until I wasn’t. This wasn’t a repeat of two years ago. He wasn’t disappearing off the face of the earth without a word.

Me:My dog is on death’s door, but I’m good.

Tore:Is he having a medical emergency? Do you need help?

Me:No, no, I’m joking! He was playing with the kids across the street. Now, he’s dramatically flopped on the floor, becoming one with my rug. He’s fine. Sorry I alarmed you.

Tore:No, it’s my fault. I can’t always read tone through text. If we’d been speaking, I would have picked up on the joke.

Me:How is that your fault? It’s mine for not being clear. I’m making a mental note not tobe sarcastic through texts. I’ll reserve that brand of charm for when we’re face to face.

Tore:Don’t change for me. I’ll read you better.

Me:And I’ll readyoubetter. How are you?

Tore:Still at work. I haven’t gotten half of what I need to get done because you’ve been distracting me.

I couldn’t stop the silly, giddy grin from spreading across my face.