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I force myself to swallow and remind myself to breathe as Eli’s blue eyes track over my face. He seems to arrive at some conclusion, because he relaxes with a soft sigh and an even softer smile.
“Unfortunately, Bailey, I don’t think you can help.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment, sharp and bitter, lands with surprising force. At the same time, the blow is softened by a bright ribbon of pleasure curling through me.He knows my name!A tiny thing, really, especially when he’s been coming in for months. But we hardly ever address each other.
When did I even tell him my name? The very first time he came in?
And heremembers?
It makes me double down on my bravery, which is starting to feel a whole lot more like recklessness.
I shake my head and cross my arms. This presses the edge of the letter against my skin. I ignore it.
“Try me,” I say, before the courage fueled by stubbornness dissipates. “Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I could—or would—help.”
He tilts his head, and even under the harsh lights, his hair glows gold. “Why?”
I’m not expecting the question. Or his piercing gaze. “Why … do I want to help you?”
He nods, and I look away, my gaze landing on a poster about feline leukemia. A very sad cat stares back. I search for an answer that doesn’t include confessing my schoolgirl crush.
“You don’t even know what I need help with. And to quote you from earlier,” he adds, and I can hear the smile in his voice even though I’m not looking, “you barely know me.”
Again, the gentleness in his voice softens his words. But hearing the echo of what I said moments ago stings a little. Mostly because it’s true. Especially compared to how much information he’s managed to get out of me over these past six months or so of visits.
But while I may not know much about him, from the time Ihavespent with him, I do feel I know who heis. Maybe I’m fuzzy on the details like job, hobbies, and personal history, but I know Eli’scharacter. You can observe a lot from watching a person interact with animals.
An unfamiliar desperation to prove Eli wrong claws its way through me. Paired with a palpable, aching need to fix whatever it is that’s bringing him down. A desire to be the exact and only person who can help.
I lick my lips, which are suddenly almost as dry as my mouth. “I know enough,” I tell him. “I know you’re kind. I know you care about animals, which says a lot about a person.”
“Who doesn’t love dogs?” he asks, scoffing a little.
“You’d be surprised. But you don’t just love the easy ones or the pretty ones.” I tilt my chin toward Doris. “She’s hardly let anyone near her, yet she’s curled up in your lap. Most people want puppies or dogs who look like they might be purebred. The good-looking ones and the young ones. Theeasyones. But not you. You love them all. Even—maybeespecially—the ones no one else does. You have a big heart, Eli. A good heart.”
And … now I’ve done it.
I gathered my courage, attempted to partake in normal conversation, and then gave the equivalent of a villain’s monologue.
Except instead of revealing the motivations for my evil plot, I’ve likely just revealed way too much about how I feel abouthim.
“So, yeah,” I add quickly. “I want to help because you’re a good guy.”
So many more reasons. But this is the only safe one.
Eli is quiet for a long moment. The kind of pause that feels like the pulling back of the ocean before a tsunami. I briefly consider bolting from the room, claiming some emergency. A fire! An escaped dog! My period! I force myself to sit still and stay silent.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Eli says,finally. “And the kind words. But I still don’t think this is something you can help with.”
He stops, then meets and holds my gaze with an intensity that freezes me in place.
“That is,” he continues, those blue eyes blazing, “unless you want to marry me.”
CHAPTER 3
Bailey
