I remained on the floor.
Marlowe curled against my hip.
The daylight faded from the harbor, and the green lamp near the stairs came on automatically, casting a quiet glow into the hall.
Noah did not remember arriving here for the first time.
He did not remember choosing the couch, rescuing the dog, or dancing badly in the kitchen when he thought I wasn’t watching.
But he knew the sound of my mistimed singing.
He knew the lamp.
He knew my hand at his neck.
Somewhere inside him, the path home had not been destroyed completely.
It was overgrown, fractured, and dark.
But it existed.
And for the first time since the accident, Noah had followed a piece of it back to me.
Chapter 10
REID
I woke with one cheek pressed to the floorboards and no feeling in my right arm.
For several confused seconds, I listened to the old building breathe around me. Water nudged the pilings beneath the yard. A halyard struck a mast outside in an irregular metallic rhythm. Somewhere close, an animal made a low, satisfied rumble.
Then pain climbed from my shoulder into my neck.
I opened my eyes.
The green navigation lamp glowed in the hallway. Evening had darkened the harbor windows, turning the living room glass into a reflection of the couch, the armchair, and my own undignified body sprawled across the floor.
“You look comfortable.”
Noah’s voice was rough with sleep.
I rolled onto my back and found him watching me from the couch.
Marlowe had somehow arranged all seventy pounds of himself across Noah’s lap and chest. The dog’s head rested beneath Noah’s chin, his eyes closed, his tail giving an occasional lazy thump against the cushions.
Noah had one hand buried in the fur behind Marlowe’s ear.
“He climbed up by himself,” he said.
“That is an outrageous lie. He hasn’t climbed anything voluntarily since 2023.”
Noah’s mouth curved.
“He knew where to find me.”
The pleasure in his voice was quiet and almost shy.
I pushed myself upright, wincing when my neck protested.
