Page 140 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"Easy, partner," Elias murmured.

His voice dropped into that low, rough rumble I'd memorised long before I should have.

"I've got you."

Another careful step.

"Easy."

His boots echoed softly across the polished floor before disappearing outside onto the gravel.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I watched him through the clinic doors until he reached the truck. A tiny smile found its way onto my face before I realised it was there. Not because everything was alright.

It wasn't.

But because I'd spent my entire life believing strength only existed to overpower people. I'd known hands that bruised. Voices that screamed. Bodies that blocked every exit. I'd never imagined strength could look like this. A man carrying an exhausted dog with the same gentleness someone might use to carry a sleeping child.

Maybe...

Maybe he didn't hate me quite as much as I'd convinced myself he did.

The drive back through the valley was quiet.

His truck led the way, its red taillights glowing softly through the evening fog while I followed a careful distance behind. Gravel crackled beneath my tires where the storm had washed pieces of the road into the ditches, and the mountains settled around us in deep shades of violet and blue.

The forest had become strangely peaceful, the pines stood motionless against the fading sky, and ribbons of mist drifted lazily between their trunks.

Neither of us noticed. He was watching the road. I was watching him. When we reached his cottage, Elias carried Max inside without saying a word. He lowered him carefully onto the thick wool blanket beside the cold stone fireplace before kneeling long enough to make sure the shepherd was comfortable.

I should have gone home.

Instead...

I followed him inside. Barefoot, I crossed the worn wooden floor and settled beside Max, my fingers automatically finding the familiar place behind his ears. He sighed in his sleep.

I smiled.

Elias never asked why I'd stayed. He only disappeared into the kitchen and a moment later the old plumbing groaned somewhere behind the wall, followed by the quiet whistle of a kettle. When he returned, he carried a steaming ceramic mug without saying anything, he crouched beside me and placed it gently on the floor.

Chamomile. The sweet scent of dried apples and wildflowers drifted upward with the steam. I wrapped both hands around the warm mug, the heat soaked into my frozen fingers, slowly chasing away the trembling that still hadn't left them. Mud had dried beneath my nails and my sleeves were stained.

Max's slow breathing filled the room.

Sometimes...

That's enough not conversation not explanations just breathing just knowing someone you almost lost is still pulling air into their lungs.

I could feel Elias watching me again.

He sat on the edge of the old leather couch, elbows resting on his knees, half his face hidden inside the amber shadows cast by the reading lamp.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.