Page 55 of Unbroken

“Oh my gosh, I’m coming. Go ahead,” I said, gesturing to the living room over the small bar top. Tato huffed and sauntered to the couch. He hopped on his end and spun in two circles before he plopped down.

I grabbed the popcorn and my soda. I used my shoulder to turn off the kitchen light and set the bowl on the coffee table as I scanned the room for the remote.

But my search was quickly forgotten when someone knocked on my door. I looked at Tato, but of course, he hadn’t heard it. The blinds on the window next to the front door were drawn, and the door was locked. I wasn’t expecting anyone and my heart hammered in my chest.

There was no reason for that to trigger my fight or flight response, but it happened all the same. On soft feet, I tiptoed over to the door and took a breath. I pressed my hands against the door and leaned to peek through the peephole.

My breath left me in a relieved whoosh, but confusion replaced my unease.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open. The cold air wafted into my warm house, and I immediately shivered.

“Devon,” I said by way of greeting.

“Hey…umm…I brought dinner.”

I glanced down at the bags in his hands and stepped to the side. He had to duck a little to walk through the doorway, and suddenly my little place felt so much smaller.

“I’m sorry to just drop in. My, uh, my mom made veggie chili and wanted me to bring some over,” he explained.

He surveyed my dark yet colorful living room as I said, “Well, that’s nice of her.”

His eyes stopped on Tato, who hopped off the couch and cautiously walked to us. “You have a dog.”

I chuckled and took one of the bags from his hand, flippingthe kitchen light back on and setting it on the counter. “Yes, this is Tato. I rescued him when I moved back.”

Devon sat the other bag on the ground as he stooped and offered Tato one of his hands. Tato sniffed it once, then a second time before his entire butt started wagging. He got up in Devon’s face and licked up one of his cheeks.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Tato,” Devon murmured as he scratched under his chin.

“Oh, and he’s deaf,” I added from the kitchen. Devon glanced up from his spot on the floor and then looked back down at my dog.

“Good to know.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out a container of chili and a bag of Fritos. “This was so nice of your mom,” I said.

Devon stood and retrieved the other bag. He rounded the bar-top counter and set the other bag next to mine, pulling out another container filled with freshly shredded cheese.

“You know how she is,” he said under his breath. “But I didn’t want to interrupt your evening. I’ll let you get back to…” His words trailed off, and he glanced back to see the movie cued up on the TV screen.

I saw the spark of interest in his eyes and remembered the countless nights we spent together binge-watching horror movies. Our mutual love of anything scary was one of the first things we bonded over back in college.

“I haven’t even started it yet. You should…stay?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but my voice went up at the end. He peered back at me, a real question in his eyes, and I tried again. “You should stay,” I said with all the confidence I truly did feel.

I really did want him to stay.

It had only been three days since Josie was born, and I had a full breakdown in a hospital hallway. And I’d been thinking about it ever since. Not just the reaction I’d had, but how Devon followed me and comforted me without hesitation.

And how much it’d helped. A breakdown like that would have lasted several hours a few months or even weeks ago. My thoughts were spinning out of control so quickly, I had no chance of slowing them down, let alone stopping them. I contributed the change to the work I’d continued doing inside and outside of therapy, but Devon’s impact couldn’t be downplayed.

The man was like a walking Xanax. And I’d missed him so much. I wanted him around even if it was just as a friend. We had always been friends; it was an easy relationship to fall back into. Although now, after everything, friendship felt like it wasn’t near enough.

But I would be respectful of his relationship. I would never cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And friendship would be enough. It had to be because, more than anything, I wanted Devon back in my life. However that happened was enough for me.

“Okay,” Devon finally said, and I grabbed two bowls from an upper cabinet.

“Have you eaten already? Do you want some?”

Devon shook his head. “I haven’t eaten. A bowl would be nice.” He slipped into one of the small, precarious barstools on the other side of the counter. I’d picked them up from a thrift store a few weeks ago, and although they were cute, they were at the end of their lives.

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