Page 93 of Interference

I laughed, easing myself down onto the couch beside Lily. “So she’s just giving you her overflow.”

Anthony sat on the other end of the couch and shrugged. “It’s some good wine, so…” He raised his glass again, then took a sip.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Comfortable silence settled in between us, and I basked in it. Of course I enjoyed our conversations, but I also enjoyed this stillness. Being in the company of someone who didn’t look at me like I was shit on his shoe. The absence of that constant bone-deep fear for my survival. For my dog’s survival. Every minute in this house was the calm after a firefight—the moment when all the wounded had been treated and the damage had assessed. When the enemy was confirmed to be neutralized. It was the release of breath as peace settled in, regardless of how temporary that peace inevitably was.

It was only a matter of time before this place, this man, and this peace were a memory, but I’d promised myself I’d revel in every moment of it for as long as it lasted. And after he’d taken away the ticking clock—when he’d said Lily and I could stay even after she was finished with her meds—I’d been hit with a sense of overwhelming peace I hadn’t known since the first time I’d come home after a combat tour.

I didn’t know how to explain any of that to Anthony, but I was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to try.

“I, um…” I idly fingered the stem of my glass and avoided his eyes. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what we talked about. About, um… About you letting me stay with you now that Lily’s done with her meds.”

Anthony sat up a little, watching me uncertainly. “What about it?”

“I…” I swallowed. “I guess I just wanted to make it clear that when I say I’m grateful you’re letting me stay, I’m…” I gnawed my lip, not sure how many cards to show. I didn’t want to fish for sympathy, but I did want him to understand just how much he’d done for me. Finally, I took a breath and met his gaze. “The morning you told me to stay instead of going back out… When I came into the kitchen that morning, I was going to ask if you could take me to surrender Lily to a Doberman rescue.”

His jaw fell open. “What? You were… Are you serious?”

I nodded slowly. “I can’t put her through that life again. She’s…” I gazed down into her soulful brown eyes as I petted her. “It killed me every time I woke up to her shivering. And I know she was scared out there.” My voice got a little thick as I made eye contact with Anthony again. “She kept doing her job the whole damn time, but I know she was scared. And hungry. And cold.” I grimaced. “That skin infection—I felt horrible for that, and I know it could’ve been something so much worse. I… I couldn’t do that to her anymore.”

Anthony seemed like he had to fight to swallow, and he took a swig of wine as if he needed something to get things moving. “But what about you? What would you have done without her?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. The important thing was that she’d be someplace safe.” I inhaled deeply. “You letting us stay here—that meant I didn’t have to let her go. So when I say thank you for that…” I trailed off.

He stared at me for a moment. Then he swallowed again. “I… God, I had no idea you were going to give her up. But I’m glad she’s still with you.” He hesitated, then shyly added, “I’m glad you’re both still here.”

I didn’t know if he meant he was glad we were still here in his house, or still alive and together. I didn’t press, though. Either way, he was the reason for it, and I’d never felt gratitude like this in my life.

I smiled and clinked my glass against his. “Cheers to that.”

His gentle smile made the room sway more than the alcohol. “Cheers.” Holding my gaze, he took a sip. I did the same.

The moment threatened to get way more fraught than I could handle, so I cleared my throat and gestured at his giant flat screen. “Is there, um… Are there any games on tonight?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re really getting into watching them, aren’t you?”

I half-shrugged. “Now that I’m finally starting to understand the game, yeah.”

His chuckle let me release my breath. I was glad I’d said what I’d needed to say, but I was equally glad we were lightening the mood.

“Well, the East Coast games have already started.” He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “But we should be able to find a central or western game that isn’t—ooh, New York is playing in Denver tonight. That’s guaranteed to be a spicy game.”

I grinned. “Oh, yeah? Rivals?”

“Big time.” He glanced at me. “New York has never forgiven their star center for accepting a deal in Denver. One of Denver’s defensemen seriously injured one of theirs a couple of seasons ago. And then Denver has knocked them out of the playoffs the last two years in a row.” He grimaced as he found the game on his sports network. “They’re, uh… Not each other’s biggest fans.”

“Wow. Yeah. This will be spicy as hell.” I gestured at the wine bottles. “Think we’ll need the second one?”

“Probably.” He started the game, then picked up his glass and sat back against the cushion. “I’d suggest a drinking game for every scrum, but we’ll both need medical attention by the second period.”

“Hah!” I held up my glass. “I’m a soldier. I can hold my damn liquor.”

He cocked a brow and pointed at the screen. “Maybe see how much these guys butt heads before you talk shit.”

Pursing my lips, I glanced at the screen. Right then, the commentators were discussing a clip from what was apparently the last meetup between these two teams. There was a full-on brawl between like eight players, and I did a double take when I looked at the scoreboard and realized it was only the first period.

“Holy shit,” I said with a laugh. “Okay. Yeah. No drinking games.”

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