“Wait.” The woman was looking at the photos now and at him again, scrutinizing back and forth between them. “Is that you in the pictures?”
He swallowed. He turned back to the photos. “Yeah.” His word was gruff.
The woman was shaking her head, confused. “She thought she’d lost you.”
“Naw…I lost her,” he bit out, jerking his cap down on his head backward and jamming his hands in his pockets. “But I found her again.”
His heart tugged more, dammit, and he thumped his fist on it. He stared at the angle of Skylar’s camera, how it had captured his and the animals’ expressions, animals Skylar had loved as much as he had. He stared at that teenage boy, so naïve, laughing, the way his cheek dimpled without a care in the whole goddamn world, the way in which his torso curved, his dusty jeans, his worn-out boots, scuffed…
The way in which Skylar used to see me.
And perhaps that was what was so pure about them, gentle nuances captured in the photos’ compositions.
She’d loved him in this steady way, he’d just never seen her love for him manifested from her perspective before. He’d only ever received it. He’d taken it for granted when he’d enlisted, banking on her support, banking on being able to grin and tease away her concerns.
That cool, wet nose nudged his hand. Yoda. Sensing he was withdrawing into himself, his dog was once again attempting to shepherd him away from the dark side.
His hand stroked over Yoda’s head. He didn’t need Yoda’s service anymore, just his companionship. But Skylar had needed him. And not only had he not allowed her to be there for him, he hadn’t been there for her, either. He’d be there for her now. One way or another, he’d never be able to go back to his life before yesterday. She was back in his life, and if he had anything to do about it, she’d stay there.