He spotted Evie’s compact SUV in the driveway. She stood next to it, looking at her phone, waiting for him, bathed in light and surrounded by that glow that always drew him closer.
No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t talk around her. He simply couldn’t find the words that she so deserved to hear. He didn’t even know what they were.
She looked up and waved, a breeze fluttering her dark hair.
How about… You’re beautiful and I loved you.
Loved.
“Past tense, right? With a D. Right, pooch?”
Pooch didn’t answer.
Declan stared at Evie, feeling an ancient and familiar kick in his gut and that ache he remembered waking up with one morning in the mountains. He’d known for sure at that moment that they were meant to be. Then…life and pain and family changed everything. Well, it changed him.
And he didn’t have the first clue how to explain that to her, but if they were going to spend time together, he’d damn well better figure it out.
Shaking off the thought, he took a deep breath, parked, and climbed out, opening the back cab as Evie approached. “The pupper is crashed.”
“Happy juice,” she said, reaching in to pet him. “Any chance you could carry him?”
“Of course.”
“I called Granddaddy and told him what’s happening, and he insisted on dressing and coming downstairs to greet you. You’d think I was bringing home a prince.”
He gestured to the dog. “You sort of are.”
“Pretty sure he didn’t mean the dog. Come on. I’ll open the door for you and then grab the bed,” she said. “Then we’ll get the rest of his stuff.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He leaned over to reach for Lusky, but Evie put her hand on Declan’s arm, stopping him.
“Dec.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I know this isn’t easy.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak, but got a little more lost in her eyes. Were they always that hauntingly silvery-gray-blue with a hint of sapphire around the iris?
“And I appreciate it,” she added, yanking him from his way-too-close examination of her eyes.
“You’re the one doing me a favor, E,” he said quickly.
Those eyes shuttered when he used the nickname he bet—he hoped—no one but him ever called her.
“What I appreciate,” she said, “is you…talking. Giving me a chance. Coming up here. And…” She added some pressure on his arm. “Just you,” she finished on a whisper.
How did she do that? How did she say those things so easily?
“S’okay.” He gave her a tight smile and turned back to the dog, not trusting his voice or his ability to ever have the right words.
Once, years ago, he’d have had those words. He’d have teased her or punctuated the conversation with a tap on the tip of her nose. He might have even leaned down and kissed her once they’d broken that barrier.
But that guy disappeared a long time ago. Now, he barely managed a lame s’okay.
“Got him,” he said, turning with his hairy bundle. She walked with him, snagging a giant dog bed from the back of her SUV and leading the way up the three steps to the front door.
It opened before she could even fish out a key.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the good Captain Mahoney himself.” Max Hewitt stood in the doorway, wearing crisp cotton pajama pants, a loose T-shirt, and a Navy baseball cap at a jaunty angle over his feathery gray hair.
Once a staple around Bitter Bark—usually when he was being feted for his generous donations, including a hefty annual sum to first responders—Max Hewitt had spent the better part of the past ten years since his wife died inside this house. That was obvious from his complexion, which was pale but for a few oddly shaped splotches the EMT in Declan recognized as purpura.
His shoulders were narrow to the point of bony, and he had a sunken chest and probably pronounced ribs. Still, he gave a big denture-heavy smile, and Declan half expected him to salute.
“Special delivery, Mr. Hewitt.” Declan hoisted the dog an inch higher. “We’re bringing a guest.”
“I couldn’t be happier,” he said, stepping back into the oversize entry to allow them in.
“Let’s put him here for the moment,” Evie said, laying the bed to the side of the stairs. “When he wakes up and feels ready to move, I’ll take him out and then let him get the lay of the land.”
Declan eased the big guy onto the bed, making sure he was fully cushioned and comfortable before standing up to properly greet the older man, who instantly stretched out his arms.
“You give me a hug, Declan Mahoney.”
Declan reached down to embrace a man he remembered as five-ten or so, but who’d shrunk to more like Evie’s five-six.
“So great to see you, Mr. Hewitt.”
“Please, son. It’s Max for you.”
Evie stepped a little closer, putting a gentle arm on her grandfather’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t navigate those stairs alone, Granddaddy.”
He grunted and shot her a look. “I’ve been up and down those steps ten million times in my life, young lady. There are nineteen of them, the sixth one from the bottom creaks, and the second one from the top has a nickel under the carpet that I put there when I was nine.” He added a toothy grin. “I didn’t want to greet this important guest from my bed.”
Declan smiled at him, admiring the effort that this old man had taken. “Thank you, Max. And I’m sure if he were awake, this boy, who we’re calling Lusky, would thank you.”
“Lusky? Not in this house.”
“Oh, Granddaddy, you’re not going to insist on the Thad tradition of dog names, are you?”
Declan frowned. “Did you have a dog named Thad? I remember…” He dug into his memory, coming up with a border collie Evie had adored. “Oh, yeah. Taddy.”
“And Jude, Faddei, and yes, Taddy,” Max said. “All of them forms of Thaddeus, which is the only name a dog who lives in this house will ever have.
