Page 53 of I’ll Find You

He nods. His whole demeanor changes. Certain. “You know what this is?” he asks.

I don’t know what he means. My face scrunches in thought, unsure how to answer that. He holds the picture up to me. His voice falters just slightly. “You didn’t even know because we weren’t paying attention. We weren’t trying to be anything.” He exhales slowly, as something calms him. When he opens his eyes, they are clear. Determined.

“That’s how we look at each other,” I say, but I know I’m just trying to downplay it.

“Whoever took it, they saw it too, Rose.” He sets the frame down carefully, treating it with the utmost care, something breakable. Then he looks at me. His hand comes back to me, sliding along my arm, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us again.

The words are a whisper. “You gave me something I didn’t quite have before.” He pulls me in for a kiss, our lips hovering over one another, I can feel his breath and crave the taste of him like it’s my dying breath.

“What’s that?” I ask, breathless, and my chest rocks with my labored breaths.

“Proof,” is all he says as he leans me back and I mold beneath him, pliant as his thick cock rocks into me. I can feel all of him through the material of our sweats. He kisses down my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, allowing him better access as he nips and sucks, leaving his mark on me. I stare at the photo of us that sits by the bed. In the photo that says this is real, and it always was.

Chapter

Thirty-One

Alex

Snow covers everything like a shroud, softening the world and concealing the decay beneath. It makes everything appear pure and untouched, blanketed in a peaceful stillness. It feels as though the earth is purging itself beneath a blanket of bleached white, waiting for spring's rains to wash it clean again before summer's heat dries what remains. I used to think of it that way when I first arrived here—a simple cycle of death and rebirth etched into the turning seasons.

I’d spent my whole life in Texas, where the seasons don’t change in quite the same way. But living in New England teaches you to appreciate them in fleeting, vivid bursts. Just when you’ve had enough of one, it changes, bringing with it something new. Another abrupt version of the world becomes painted in different colors. Nature seems to be constantly reinventing itself, or maybe just burying what came before.

Maybe that's why this morning feels like a reset. The world outside is bleached and still, the road laced with a dusting of fresh-fallen snow. Rose sits beside me, scrolling through her phone, her voice filling the car as she talks about meeting Chelsea for lunch after our shift at the shelter. I nod at the right moments, keeping my eyes on the road. We’ll work the morning together, and afterward, I’ll drop her off. She says she’ll find a ride back so we can meet up later and head home together. Everyone’s back in town now. Another week, and everything starts again. Rose has classes and clinicals. I have classes too. Our happy bubble is coming to an end, and I can’t shake the feeling that something precious is already being taken from me before I’ve had the chance to fully grasp it.

The tires crunch over gravel as I pull into the lot, the shelter coming into view through the thin layer of snow still clinging to the ground. I barely get the car in park before Rose is already moving. She couldn’t wait to get here this morning to see her favorite furry friend.

“You’re not even going to wait for me?” I call after her, stepping out and shutting the door, teasing her.

She turns halfway to the entrance, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and her eyes bright in a way that I’ve come to love. A sly smile spreads across her face. “I’m just excited to see my favorite good boy,” she winks.

I stop, stiffening. “You take that back right now.” I point at her as she laughs and darts toward the door. “That’s not even a joking matter.”

I catch up to her easily, my hand finding hers without thinking as we step inside. The warmth hits first, then the familiar chorus of barking. Except something’s off. We’re usually greeted by a constant bark that almost sounds like a howl. Today, it’s missing. Rose notices it, too. She glances at me before calling out.

“Callie?” She’s already scanning the room, expecting him to come running in any second. Callie appears from the back, her face lighting up when she sees us.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite people.”

I take Rose’s jacket and mine, heading toward the back to drop them off, but I don’t get far before I hear it.

“Where’s Watson?”

I pause. Something in the way Callie hesitates makes my nerves fray. I turn back immediately.

Callie’s smile falters just slightly, but it’s enough. I’m beside Rose in an instant, my hand tightening around hers.

“What?” I ask, already bracing for her answer.

Callie exhales. “He was adopted.”

She says the words, and they land exactly as intended. Rose folds inward beside me. “Right,” she says softly. “That’s good.”

It is. That’s the point. But I feel it, too, the sharp and hollow pang of disappointment. He should have been ours. I thought about adopting him more times than I can count. I figured we’d do it together when we got back, or at least start the conversation about it. Maybe even today. Now that chance is gone.

I move closer, still holding her hand. I’m not sure if I’m supporting her or myself at this point.

Callie watches us for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then she speaks again. “Don’t look so disappointed just yet.”