Page 98 of Every Thought Taken

The little gray bubble dances on the screen.

Anderson

I’ll pick up groceries. What time?

Helena

5:30

Anderson

???? Love you.

Helena

Love you too.

Just as I send the message, the bell over the door jingles. A man and woman step inside, her eyes filling with delight as his fill with dread. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I greet them with a bright smile.

For the first time in years, my smile doesn’t feel forced and fake. For the first time in years, my smile is a reflection of how I feel. Happy.

CHAPTER54

ANDERSON

Isnatch the grocery tote, exit the van, and climb the stairs to Helena’s apartment. It feels so routine and normal to scale these stairs. To twist the door handle and push inside. To find her in leggings and an oversized off-the-shoulder shirt with a smile on her face. A smile for me.

We have spent every available moment together since returning from our trip. She cooked dinner the first night back. I cooked on night two. Night three was takeout. Last night, she’d been with her parents.

Each time I walk through her door, my breaths come easier. Any time I enter her bubble, I am home.

Smoky prances from the living room to greet me as I close the door. “Hey, little lady. How’s my favorite girl?”

“Hey,” Helena calls from the kitchen, hand on her hip. But her expression is playful. Teasing.

“Sorry, North.” I scratch Smoky’s head. “My favoritefurrygirl.”

She shuffles across the room, fuzzy socks on her feet and a glass of wine in her hand. “That’s better.” She winks. “How was your day?”

I toe off my sneakers and pad toward the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. “Good. Helped Ales in the coffee shop. A little paperwork and heavy lifting when the deliveries came in. What about yours?”

She sips her wine as I unload the bag. “Tourist season is tapering off, but I still had several visitors come in.”

I lean into her and press my lips to her hair. “That’s great.” Shuffling around the ingredients, I twist to face her. “Thought it’d be fun to do breakfast for dinner.”

After a hefty gulp of her wine, she sets down the glass and rubs her hands together. “Where do you want me?”

Keep your head out of the gutter, Anderson. She’s talking about cooking.

I swallow and hand her the baking mix. “You’re in charge of pancakes.”

Over the next twenty-ish minutes, I do my damnedest not to stare at her. The way her tongue darts out, trapped between her teeth as she stirs the batter. The way she cocks her hip as she waits to flip the pancakes. Or the way she sucks the funnel on the whipped cream can.

I do my damnedest, but I fail.

A bang fills the room and I startle awake. The fog of sleep fades enough for me to recognize the sound came from the television. Relaxing my muscles, I melt back into the couch. It takes ten groggy seconds for me to realize Helena is asleep on my chest. That we fell asleep on the couch. And as much as I want to stay exactly like this, both of us will be cranky in the morning if we wake with sore muscles.

Reaching for the remote, I turn off the television. Slowly, I sit up and twist to a seated position, shifting Helena as I go. I rise from the couch with her in my arms and pad down the hall to her bedroom. It takes some awkward finagling, but I pull back the covers and gently lay her down.

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