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I go to the bedroom door.
“Woof!”
I glance back.
The tiny demon is sitting at the foot of the bed, gaze trained on me, expression concerned.
Anthropomorphizing at its finest.
“Well,” I say, impatient with myself, with him. “Let’s go already.”
Another woof as he jumps down and bounds over to me.
We walk down the hall and out into the family room together, finding it empty with the exception of that pile of blankets and clothes. I move over to them, take two minutes and fold the clothes and towels, setting them on the counter, leaving the blankets where they are because I don’t have a fucking couch, worth twenty-five thousand dollars or otherwise.
By the time I finish with that, I’ve clocked that her camera and coat are gone, and Steve is sniffing at the door. I snag his leash, trust that the tiny demon is going to be capable of leading me to his master as I strap him into the contraption, something that’s not easy because he’s dancing around and sniffing at my face and he seems to have grown five more legs. Finally, though, I get him in the harness, snap the leash on, and grab my coat, shove my feet into my boots.
Then we’re out the door, following her footprints. I pause to put the spare key back beneath the pot before moving around to the back deck that overlooks the couple of acres that come along with this property.
I can see the river that’s lined with ice winding through my yard, the clusters of trees dotted throughout, the fence along one side of my neighbor put up years before.
The rest of it is vast and open, several acres of nature and forest and peace and privacy.
I pause at the top of the stairs that lead down the slope.
There are a lot of them, one of the few things I hate about this house, but flat lots are a commodity in this area and I wanted a kickass view from the back side of the house.
So…stairs.
Lots of them.
I’m not hating them so much now, not hating the view they give me of the yard, the way I can easily spot Nova in the distance, even with the snow falling fast.
She moves slowly, carefully, arms moving, lifting her camera.
She hasn’t gone far, hasn’t even made it to the river yet, to the pond beyond that has to be frozen over by now.
But she’s photographing the trees again, and I wonder what the shots will look like.
If they’ll be as beautiful as what I saw earlier.
“Woof!” Steve says as he tugs at the leash, clearly wanting to get to his master. Giving in to that obvious need—and not whatever in the fuck I’m feeling—I start walking down the stairs.
Before I get halfway down, I’m thinking that I need to shovel these off before I break my neck.
Or before this damn dog gets hurt.
Or Nova.
Or her camera gets damaged.
I ignore the pinch in my chest and keep descending.
“Woof!” Steve pulls so hard at the leash that I almost eat shit, almost end up with a broken ass to go along with my broken neck. I throw my free hand out, grab the railing, fingers plowing through the snow gathered on the top of the banister, the cold a shock, but luckily, I manage to snag it so I don’t die or allow Steve to plummet down to his snowy death.
“What the fuck, man?” I mutter.
Yes, to a dog.
