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Yet, I stay.

Little by little, she coaxes the dog closer until she holds out her hand.

The dog sniffs her fingers.

She doesn't touch it.

And that's what gets me.

Callie doesn't know I'm here. She isn't doing this because someone's watching. There's no camera. No Instagram Story. No audience.

As far as she knows, I kept walking.

After spending almost two weeks trying to find me, she finally had me in her sights.

And she let me go because something hurt needed her more.

Something shifts beneath my ribs.

I've seen that look before.

She looked at me the same way when I was bleeding in her car. Like helping wasn't a decision. Like leaving wasn't an option.

The dog moves closer, then rests his head against her knee.

Callie's entire face softens. “Oh.”

She gently touches his head.

And I'm fucked.

Completely fucking fucked.

“You know you're coming home with me now, right?”

Apparently Chaos has decided one damaged man isn't enough.

My mouth twitches.

She's collecting us now.

Poor bastard doesn't stand a chance.

She scratches behind his ear, and his eyes close.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “You're mine.”

I shake my head.

There was never another possible outcome.

When she leans down and picks him up, I move, finding a hiding spot where I can see her once she comes out of the alley.

And then I see her.

The sunglasses are perched on the hat. The dog in her arms.

She keeps walking.