Page 67 of A Love Like Candle Light

Abby runs ahead, tail wagging as she darts up and down his porch. Beckoned by her little tippy taps, Erik opens the door, only to immediately get jumped and stumbling a few steps back into his hallway. By the time I make it to his porch, he’s gently pushing Abby off.

“What’s all this?” He points at the grocery bags in my hand and the backpack over my shoulder, getting up from the ground.

“All in due time. Here.” I thrust one of the bag into his hands. “You sounded sad, so I brought some cheering-up food.”

“How did you...” He pulls the cherry and chocolate fudge ice tub out and holds it up. “Are you a mind reader? How did you know this is my favorite one?”

“Educated guess.” I shrug and lift my chin for a kiss. He obliges all too happily. “And also, if you take a peek at the other bags, you might notice I have bought one of every flavor.”

His lips pull into a grin. “And here I thought you were a little magician.”

“Alas.” I pat his shoulder and brush past him inside. “No magic here. Though reading minds would make my life significantly easier sometimes.” I roll my eyes. At least if I could read minds, I’d know what Zach wanted. For now, I’ve decided it must have been a butt dial. “Anyway...” I set my backpack down in his kitchen.

Abby runs past me, and when I glance at his living room, I find her curled up on his couch, in the exact same spot she jumped him on the last time.

“Tell me everything.” I toe out of my shoes and hang up my jacket. “Was it her?”

“No.” He shakes his head, a profound sadness weighing down his voice. “It wasn’t. But at least I got some bomb apple pie out of it.”

“You had bomb apple pie?” My eyes widen with jealousy.

“And your piece is in the fridge.” Ever so slowly, my face brightens up.

“Seriously?”

My heart dropped when he called to cancel our meeting at Caleb’s. For a moment, I was catapulted back 15 months, waiting at our kitchen table with a ready-made meal for Zach to come home, as promised.

Only he never did. At least not that day.

This is different, Kylie, I scold myself. He thought about you. Hell, within the short amount of time we’ve known each other, he knew I’d be happy if he brought me pie. I might still be a little butthurt, but even I can recognize the different level of dedication and how much more attention he pays compared to Zach. I’m not an afterthought.

“How are you doing?” I ask, walking over to him. Once I’m near enough, I reach for his hands and lace his fingers with mine. His eyes dart from my face to our hands, an inner fight going on whether to confide in me or not.

But I don’t push. Either he wants to tell me, or not. I only draw random patterns over the back of his hand with my thumbs and wait for his decision.

“I’m exhausted.” His voice is slow, barely louder than a whisper, and breaks toward the end. “Every time I get my hopes up, and then they’re shattered into a million little pieces I get to glue back together.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. My heart is breaking for him. He pulls his hand out of mine, but before I can question it, he puts his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into a warm and tight hug.

“I really want to find her,” he mumbles and takes a deep breath. I hug him back with the same ferocity and feel him positively melt against me. Maybe I can help him glue the pieces back together. I’m great at puzzles.

“My dad and aunt both want to find her so badly. And so do I.” He clears his throat. “But especially in my line of work, sometimes...” He lets the sentence fade into silence.

It’s okay. He doesn’t need to finish it.

I can imagine. If true crime documentaries have thought me one thing, it’s that kidnapping or missing persons reports seldom have a way of working out in a way you can call a happy ending.

“I’m so sorry, Erik,” I mumble against his chest and rub his back in slow, reassuring circles. Abby weaves around our feet, clearly feeling left out.

“One more moment,” Erik mumbles at her, without letting me go. She doesn’t quite want to listen, though, and gets on her hind feet, putting her front paws on his hip.

“I think she’s jealous.”

“Down, Abby,” he scolds her gently. To my surprise she listens.

“Kylie...” He clears his throat and steps back, running his palm over his face. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Anytime.” I get on my tiptoes and press a kiss to the side of his jaw. “Come on. Give me the bag. The ice cream is melting.” He hands it over, eyes following the ice cream tub as I put it in his freezer.