the way she’d come to the door the other day. Alone in her apartment, she was at risk. And if someone had been watching him, they might already have seen her with him and identified her.
If someone had targeted his dog, they might very well target a person he cared about. Maybe the soggy sandwich had been the action of a cruel, unsupervised brat of a kid. Or maybe it had been something much worse. For now, there was no way to know.
Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that Sasha would be better off with him and Wolf for company, for protection.
He glanced at his rearview mirror, searching for any signs that he was being followed.
Everything seemed normal, though a familiar sense of wariness – a sixth sense, really – told him that was an illusion.
* * * * *
It was dark. Sasha couldn’t say exactly when night had fallen; it had just happened at some point, slipping over the highway and the surrounding landscape like a thick blanket, glittering dully with stars that were dimmed by a haze of gauzy clouds.
She felt the silence of the night pressing down on the earth, despite the fact that the radio was on. With Raleigh hours behind her, she was deep into rural territory and there were few lights to illuminate the darkness. It occurred to her that the night her father had died had been like this one.
He’d been driving home from a night class at the college, the American Literature course he’d started teaching for the first time that summer semester. He’d probably never seen the truck coming into his lane until the last second, had probably been traveling toward home with thoughts of a late dinner on his mind, headlights cutting through a hot Carolina night, illuminating familiar scenery.
Much like Sasha was doing now. She was even thinking of dinner, but not because she was particularly hungry. No, she and her mother had had a big lunch, and it was the thought of seeing Henry that made her long for home.
An hour or so ago, he’d called and told her that she was welcome to spend the night. He’d said something about her being tired after so much driving, about not wanting her to have to worry about getting home after what was going to be a very late meal.
She’d agreed. She did have a spare change of clothing in her overnight bag, after all. And she couldn’t help but think that maybe he regretted holding out the night before and wanted to make up for lost time. The thought made her heart skip a beat.
What he’d done for her the night before had been good, but there was no such thing as an adequate substitute for having him inside her, for running her hands over his body and feeling every muscle tense and tighten as he drove himself deep into her. She relished the thought of experiencing that again, but most of all, she longed just to see him.
A day devoted to remembering her father had gone much as she’d expected it to. She’d cherished the memories they had, regretting at the same time that there hadn’t been more. Finite and precious, she held onto all the good times they’d shared like treasured possessions. Of course, she valued them more now than she had before she’d lost him.
It was a sad truth, but wasn’t that always how it went?
The thought inspired a deep heartache. She was lucky to have people she cared about, and knew death would eventually separate her from all of them. With an old sense of loss rekindled by the anniversary of her father’s death, she was desperate not to make the same mistake again. She’d only have a certain number of moments with each person in her life, and she wanted to make the most of them. Who knew which one would be the last?
She was afraid of losing the people she loved, but most of all, she was afraid of not loving them enough while she still had them.
The thought applied to everyone she cared about: her mother and her best friends, Kerry and Alicia. And Henry. He stood out particularly clearly in her mind – no surprise, considering that
If someone had targeted his dog, they might very well target a person he cared about. Maybe the soggy sandwich had been the action of a cruel, unsupervised brat of a kid. Or maybe it had been something much worse. For now, there was no way to know.
Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that Sasha would be better off with him and Wolf for company, for protection.
He glanced at his rearview mirror, searching for any signs that he was being followed.
Everything seemed normal, though a familiar sense of wariness – a sixth sense, really – told him that was an illusion.
* * * * *
It was dark. Sasha couldn’t say exactly when night had fallen; it had just happened at some point, slipping over the highway and the surrounding landscape like a thick blanket, glittering dully with stars that were dimmed by a haze of gauzy clouds.
She felt the silence of the night pressing down on the earth, despite the fact that the radio was on. With Raleigh hours behind her, she was deep into rural territory and there were few lights to illuminate the darkness. It occurred to her that the night her father had died had been like this one.
He’d been driving home from a night class at the college, the American Literature course he’d started teaching for the first time that summer semester. He’d probably never seen the truck coming into his lane until the last second, had probably been traveling toward home with thoughts of a late dinner on his mind, headlights cutting through a hot Carolina night, illuminating familiar scenery.
Much like Sasha was doing now. She was even thinking of dinner, but not because she was particularly hungry. No, she and her mother had had a big lunch, and it was the thought of seeing Henry that made her long for home.
An hour or so ago, he’d called and told her that she was welcome to spend the night. He’d said something about her being tired after so much driving, about not wanting her to have to worry about getting home after what was going to be a very late meal.
She’d agreed. She did have a spare change of clothing in her overnight bag, after all. And she couldn’t help but think that maybe he regretted holding out the night before and wanted to make up for lost time. The thought made her heart skip a beat.
What he’d done for her the night before had been good, but there was no such thing as an adequate substitute for having him inside her, for running her hands over his body and feeling every muscle tense and tighten as he drove himself deep into her. She relished the thought of experiencing that again, but most of all, she longed just to see him.
A day devoted to remembering her father had gone much as she’d expected it to. She’d cherished the memories they had, regretting at the same time that there hadn’t been more. Finite and precious, she held onto all the good times they’d shared like treasured possessions. Of course, she valued them more now than she had before she’d lost him.
It was a sad truth, but wasn’t that always how it went?
The thought inspired a deep heartache. She was lucky to have people she cared about, and knew death would eventually separate her from all of them. With an old sense of loss rekindled by the anniversary of her father’s death, she was desperate not to make the same mistake again. She’d only have a certain number of moments with each person in her life, and she wanted to make the most of them. Who knew which one would be the last?
She was afraid of losing the people she loved, but most of all, she was afraid of not loving them enough while she still had them.
The thought applied to everyone she cared about: her mother and her best friends, Kerry and Alicia. And Henry. He stood out particularly clearly in her mind – no surprise, considering that
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