The Chair He Bought, The Dog They Tried to Take, and the Choice

eyes sharpened. “We should.”

“We?”

He didn’t flinch. “Yeah. We.”

It was such a simple word.

We.

I hadn’t had a “we” since Eleanor died.

I looked down at my hands—thin, spotted, trembling slightly.

“Why do you care?” I asked again, quieter this time. “You barely know me.”

Caleb stared at the steam rising from his coffee.

Then he said something so honest it made continue reading …