My mind reeled, though. Six bedrooms? And this was Anthony’s neighbor?

  Jesus Christ—how rich was this man who was scraping me and my dog up off the street?

  About thirty minutes after we’d left the restaurant’s parking lot, I realized Anthony’s car and cats were only the tip of the iceberg.

  His house was insane.

  For one thing, it was in Medina. Some of the palaces out here probably made people in Bellevue and on Mercer Island weep with envy.

  For another, it was on Lake Washington. Like… right on the lake. This man had waterfront property in Medina.

  He pulled the car into a four-car garage that had two empty bays and one occupied by a gleaming red Ferrari. There was also a motorcycle and a couple of snowboards. No idea what he did for a living, but he was clearly doing well.

  Lily and I got out of the passenger seat while Anthony went around to get his cats out. As long as we were outside and the cold hadn’t settled in too badly, I took the opportunity to let Lily do her business. Anthony didn’t seem to mind waiting a moment, even after the cats were out of the car. Bear quickly found a leaf to entertain himself. Moose just glared at us.

  Fortunately, Lily was trained to go on command, so I didn’t keep anybody waiting long, and in under two minutes, we were all heading inside. Bear was clearly disappointed that he had to leave his leaf outside, but he seemed to forget about it once he realized he was going into the house.

  From the garage, we walked into a kitchen that not only rivaled my last apartment for square footage, it had a spectacular view. Even in the dark, I could tell he had a panoramic view of Lake Washington, and that dotted line of lights swooping down toward the water and expanding across the lake could only be the Evergreen Point Bridge.

  Anthony undid his cats’ harnesses in the kitchen. Moose immediately trotted into the living room and heaved himself onto the giant cat tree by the window. Bear went to the food dish.

  While the cats enjoyed their freedom, Anthony led me and Lily down the hall. I quietly prayed his guest room wasn’t on one of the upper floors; this house had to be at least three stories, and just thinking about the climb made every joint in my body ache with preemptive fatigue.

  Luck was once again on my side today—the guest room was at the end of a long hall that didn’t have any stairs. Anthony pushed open the door and motioned for us to go in.

  “It has its own bathroom,” he said as we stepped inside. “I always keep the drawers and cabinets stocked with anything a guest might need, so help yourself.” He gestured over his shoulder. “If you need to do any laundry, the laundry room is downstairs.”

  If I needed to do laundry. Right. There was no “if” about it.

  “Thanks. I’ll, um…” I tugged at my jacket and made a face. “Probably take you up on that.”

  He didn’t so much as wrinkle his nose. “No problem. The stairs are across the hall. Just go down, and it’s on your left.”

  I nodded. I could handle that. Stairs wore me out, but I could manage, especially if it meant clean clothes.

  Beside me, Lily sat down, and I patted her neck. “She, um… She usually sleeps close to me. If you’d rather she didn’t sleep on the bed, I can—”

  “Are you kidding?” He laughed. “My boys both sleep with me. She can’t shed any worse than they do.”

  I wanted to say, “You’d be surprised.” After all, shorthaired dogs were like shorthaired cats—they could shed a lot. But I didn’t want to talk him out of allowing Lily to sleep next to me; she was clingy under the best of circumstances, and after the last few months, well, I was probably her security blanket as much as she was mine.

  So I let the subject drop. “Do you mind if I grab a shower?”

  “Not at all.” He paused. “Though now that I think about it, I didn’t put towels back in here last time someone stayed—anyway, let me get you some towels.”

  “Thanks.”

  He brought a stack of towels along with an empty laundry basket. He also brought the bag of food for Lily along with a huge bowl for water.

  “She’s welcome to eat in the kitchen,” he explained. “But this way the cats stay out of her bowl and out of her way, and she can sort of settle in here.”

  “Good idea. Thanks.”

  Then he left me to it.

  Of course, priority one was my dog. I took off her vest again so she could relax, and then I filled her food and water dishes about halfway, just so she wouldn’t stuff herself and get sick. I was afraid for a hot minute she wouldn’t like the food, but she dove right in and crunched happily.

  With Lily fed, I focused on myself and that shower that sounded absolutely amazing.

  I was halfway undressed when I realized Anthony hadn’t asked me to take off my shoes on the way in. Maybe he didn’t want to know what homeless socks smelled like? And all things considered, my battered old boots were relatively clean, so at least I hadn’t tracked anything into his house.

  I sat on the edge of the bed to unlace my boots. After I slid off the left one, I carefully removed the right. I debated taking off my prosthetic, too. Showering while wearing one wasn’t a good idea, but I was too afraid of pushing my luck with Anthony to ask if he had something I could use as a shower chair. Especially since regular chairs weren’t safe for that; they needed non-skid feet.

  One shower with my prosthetic on wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  I pulled some clean clothes out of my rucksack and took them out of the plastic grocery bags I’d used to keep them dry. They were, fortunately, still as clean as they’d been since my last trip to the laundromat. I always kept a couple of sets of clothes clean just in case I couldn’t do laundry for a while; at least then if what I was wearing got wet or something, I could change into something clean. I took what small comforts I could get out there.

  I found my shaving kit in the rucksack, and took that and my clothes into the bathroom.

  When I turned on the light, my heart jumped. The shower was not only huge and inviting, it had a removable showerhead and a bench.

  Was I dreaming? Because like two hours ago, I’d been on the verge of panicked tears over where my dog would sleep tonight. Now I was in a palatial house, my dog had more food and comforts than she’d had in ages, and I had access to a shower with a place to sit down.

  Forget dreaming. Was I dead?

  Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing was for damn sure—this shower was heaven.

  Hot water. Actual pressure. No fear that someone would steal my prosthetic if I took it off (which I did, leaving it just outside the shower stall). No worrying that, if I wore it into the shower, it would slip out from under me and put me on my ass. No stressing about how long the water would last or if someone would start banging on the door to tell me my time was up.

  And more than anything, I didn’t have to rush through my shower for fear that something might happen to my dog. Partly because I could see her through the fogged-up doors—she’d come in and lain down on the rug by the sink—and partly because I believed to my core that my host would chew glass before he did something to an animal.

  I ran the showerhead over some aching muscles, especially in my neck and back, and basked in the relief. I didn’t want to abuse Anthony’s hospitality or waste water, but I admittedly indulged in a longer shower than I needed. For a good several minutes after I was clean, I just enjoyed the warmth and the relaxation.

  But I did want to be a good houseguest, so I didn’t stay in too long.

  His towels were big and soft, not the tiny gritty things I’d used at homeless shelters. I also didn’t have that usual anxiety over needing to rush out so someone could use the facility or to make sure my few worldly possessions—and my dog—were safe.

  Which also meant I could do things like shave. I didn’t mind having a beard, especially when I was facing a winter of sleeping outside. But I hated when it was unkempt like this. Tonight, I had another luxury that I hadn’t in a while: time to do some actual beard maintenance.

  I dug into my shaving kit, and I indulged in taking my sweet time trimming the edges and tidying it all up. My hair was longer than I would’ve liked, but a comb worked wonders, and suddenly the man staring back at me in the mirror was familiar. Too thin, especially in the face, but more… me than I’d been in ages.

  I leaned against the counter as a weird sense of fatigue settled in. I was always exhausted—came with the territory of sleeping on the streets—but this was new. It was less like I was about to collapse and more like… I could collapse. I was in a warm, safe place where I could lie down, close my eyes, and surrender to sleep like I hadn’t been able to in months.

  I felt weird.

  But I felt good.

  Chapter 5

  Anthony

  Simon: I’ll be there in the morning. We’ll talk then.

  Leaning against the kitchen counter and glaring at my phone, I exhaled hard. I’d tried. I’d fucking tried. He was shutting me out, though, and past experience had taught me that there wasn’t much I could do when he was like this.

  I scrolled up through the messages we’d exchanged since I’d come home, trying to make sense of it all. Not that I ever had much luck with that.

  Anthony: I’m home now. We can still FaceTime at 8 if you want.

  Simon: I thought something came up.

  Anthony: It did but I got home sooner than I thought I would.

  Simon: Ok.

  Anthony: So, do you want to FT?

  Simon: I made other plans.

  Anthony: In an hour?

  Simon: I’m sorry, was I supposed to wait until I knew if you were going to find time for me? We’ll talk later.

  Anthony: You’re just not usually that spontaneous.

  Simon: And you don’t usually blow me off for the FT calls YOU insisted on.

  Anthony: I didn’t blow you off. Something came up.

  Simon: Of course it did.

  Anthony: What do you want me to say? You knew I was taking the boys to the vet.

  Simon: Is something wrong with one of the cats?

  Anthony: No, they’re fine.

  Simon: Then what does that have to do with “something coming up”?

  Anthony: The clinic was busy, so the appointment ran late.

  That last part wasn’t true, of course, and I felt guilty for the little white lie. I just wasn’t sure how to explain Wyatt to him.

  Sometimes I thought Simon was doing this to punish me. Since I’d been the one to suggest we talk regularly even while we lived apart, he’d thrown it in my face any time I wasn’t available.

  “If it’s really that important to you,” he’d told me one night, “then you’d make time.”

  Except I did make time. I’d only had to bail a handful of times, and I’d always had—I thought—good reasons.

  But for as much as this separation was supposed to give us space and a chance for us to fix our relationship, he sure resisted and resented the shit out of everything I suggested to help us. I’d been trying like hell to find every possible way to bridge the gap between us, but he’d either shoot down the idea, blame me for the gap, or both.

  It was exhausting.

  I wondered if he knew how anxious it made me, knowing we’d be hashing this out in the car in the morning. That it fucked with my sleep and left me wound up and distracted, none of which boded well for practicing or playing well.

  If we let the cracks show, we’re both fucked.

  Well, it was what it was, at least for tonight. I knew when I was being shut out, and I didn’t feel like trying to fight with him via text. One way or another, we’d discuss this in the car on the way to practice. Couldn’t fucking wait.

  Elsewhere in the house, a door opened, and the floor creaked. Wyatt had been to the laundry room once, so he was probably heading back down there.

  Except, no—footsteps came up the hall. Nails clicked, so Lily was probably coming too.

  I cleared my throat, turned my phone facedown on the counter, and busied myself making a cup of coffee.

  A moment later, Wyatt and Lily came into the kitchen. Lily only had her collar on now, and she trotted over to where Bear and Moose’s food dishes had been. Fortunately, I’d predicted that much, and I’d moved their dishes onto one of the islands, which was where both cats were now perched.

  Lily found a couple of stray kibbles on the floor, though, and crunched on them.

  Wyatt chuckled. “That’s cat food, you know.”

  Still chewing, she looked up at him and wagged her tail. He just rolled his eyes and laughed.

  And I… caught myself staring at him.

  I’d been told sometimes that I cleaned up good, but Wyatt? Wow. And he wasn’t in a suit or a tux—he was just wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of shorts—but he looked damn good now that he’d trimmed his beard. Without the jacket, I had a much better view of broad shoulders and a couple of tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. There was one on his left calf, too. Something military, I thought. Which might’ve also explained why his lower right leg was a prosthetic.

  Fortunately, I realized I was staring before he did, and I pulled my gaze away. “Uh, do you want some coffee?” I gestured with my cup.

  He blinked. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. Coffee would be great.” Unaware of what he was doing to my balance, he smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And, um… Everything.” He pushed out a breath. “This is the best I’ve felt in ages.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I pulled a mug down from the cupboard. “Any preference?” I tipped my head toward the carousel of Keurig cups. “I don’t have anything really fancy, but—”

  “It’s hot and it’s coffee. Doesn’t need to be fancy. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  French roast it was, then. After he’d added half a spoonful of sugar, we moved into the living room. He sat on the sofa. I took one of the recliners.

  Wyatt cradled the cup between his hands, probably to let it cool. He looked around the room, and when his gaze landed on Lily, that soft smile came back to life. “Too bad they don’t get along, isn’t it?”

  The cats had moved onto the cat tree, and Lily wandered up to check it out. Moose was sleeping and didn’t stir. Bear had been bathing, and as the dog approached, he was still sitting back with his rear leg sticking up in the air, but he was paying attention to her now. He watched with wide eyes as she sniffed the edge of his platform. He reached for her with a giant paw, and I cringed a little, afraid he’d scratch her.

  Before I could intervene, though, he just gave her floppy ear a gentle bat. Lily shook her head. Bear batted at her ear again. She woofed softly—an obviously playful sound even if her tail hadn’t been wagging—and Bear whapped her on the head. She woofed again, play bowing on the floor and then coming back up to egg him on.

  “Yeah,” I said into my coffee. “Too bad they don’t get along.”

  Wyatt was watching them and smiling, but the expression was a little sad. “She doesn’t get much social interaction these days.”

  “Do service dogs socialize much?”

  “They can’t while they’re working, but they need it.” He turned to me. “They’re still social animals, you know? And sometimes I don’t think she knows the difference between cats and dogs, so this”—he indicated his dog with his coffee cup—“is great for her.”

  “It’s probably good for them, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  I sipped my coffee and put the cup down on the end table. “I walk them a lot, so they see dogs all the time. I don’t want them to be too friendly, especially with strange dogs, but it’s good for them to be comfortable around them.”

  Wyatt nodded, and the corner of his mouth curled slightly. “So you actually walk them? The leashes aren’t just to take them to the vet?”

  “Oh, yeah. They both love being outside. I don’t let them roam outdoors, but I take them hiking, or we walk on some of the local trails.”

  “That must turn heads.”

  “To say the least.” I chuckled as I watched Bear and Lily playing while Moose scowled down at them. “There was one time I was out with them and my boyfriend, and these two teenagers just went nuts over them. Taking pictures, petting them, the works. And like, the whole time, we were standing there wondering if they realized who we were because one of them was literally wearing Simon’s jersey.”

  Wyatt cocked his head. “His jersey? What do you mean?”

  “Oh.” My face heated for some reason. “He and I…” I tilted my coffee cup toward the framed photos behind him.

  Brow furrowed, he turned around. His spine straightened, and when he faced me again, his eyes were wide. “Wait, you’re a hockey player? Like, a pro?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. We both play for the Bobcats.”

  “Ooh.” His gaze swept around the room, and I suspected some pieces were clicking together. “Wow. I had kind of guessed you were a tech guy or something.”

  Shaking my head, I laughed. “Oh God, no. I’m lucky I can work my iPhone.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “Yeah, I know how that goes.” His gaze drifted to our pets. Lily was staring out the window, and Bear was trying to bat her ear again. Much to his frustration, though, it was just out of his long reach. In that situation, Moose would’ve figured out that if he got up and moved closer, the problem would be solved. Bear… Well, this was the same cat who’d lost a treat under his own paw earlier this evening, so I wasn’t surprised he couldn’t figure out this puzzle.

  Was that really today? It felt like years ago that I’d been in the exam room with Dr. Green, unaware of Wyatt’s existence at all.

  Now he was here in my house with his dog. Intellectually, I knew it was a bizarre scenario, and it should’ve been surreal and maybe even unsettling how easily this man had gone from a stranger to a houseguest. But as I sat here drinking coffee with Wyatt while our pets hung out, it made sense. Of course he was here. Of course Bear was trying to get Lily to play with him.

  I wasn’t sure if that made sense, but there it was.

  Unaware of my thoughts, Wyatt said, “So people really notice your cats but don’t recognize either of you?”