They chatted as they headed back to the car, both peering out from the third floor of the parking garage at the unrelenting rain, still pouring in steady sheets.

  "Ugh. I think it’s supposed to be like this for the rest of the week..." Nick said with a grumble.

  "Thanks for the help with the car, by the way."

  "Glad to help," she beamed. "Besides, it was really fun, especially the picking on you part."

  Nick smiled awkwardly, not wanting to pour gas on the fire. He’d enjoyed the moment—it was just odd. He still wasn’t used to being handled like a small plaything... not to mention the wet doggy kisses, which would take some getting used to.

  It was strange. Her personality mostly stayed the same, but being with her felt like being with two different people—even though she was still the same sweet girl.

  He wasn’t sure which version of her he liked more.

  Maybe that was the problem—he liked both.

  As the car rolled toward its next destination, Tiffany piped up, her eyes still fixed on the antique architecture they passed. She was enjoying the scenery, even though the thunder made her feel like she was sitting on pins and needles.

  “Hey, Nick…”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know what’s weird?” she said, tracing strange glyphs on the frosted window with her finger, her gaze distant. “Being shorter than you. I kinda like it.”

  “Weird how?” he asked, glancing over, amused.

  She shrugged. “I’m used to towering over people. Always sticking out in a bad way... some said I was unapproachable. I get tired of always looking down at everyone. But now I get to look up at someone. And no matter how I look... you don’t flinch.”

  “Should I?” he asked with a smug grin.

  “Only if you reaaaalllly make me mad. That’s when the teeth come out,” she replied, turning from her window doodles to flash him a huge, cheesy grin.

  They both laughed, warm and easy.

  “I just hope you like me for me,” she added softly. “Whether fur or skin... it’s still me.”

  Nick sat quiet for a bit, focused on the road. The rain had eased, but not much. He rested his arm on the center console, relaxing. Storms like this—when he didn’t have to work—always put him at ease. Something about the steady rhythm, the gray blur of the world, made everything feel... softer.

  “Hey! Could we stop here for a minute? I’d like to get some things.”

  Her mood flipped like a switch—open and vulnerable one moment, now excited about a plate of treats or something shiny in the shop window. Nick nodded, slowing the car to a crawl and pulling into the parking lot. He parked in front of the general store and gently placed a hand on her arm before she could open the door.

  “We’ve already talked about this... but maybe it needs to be said.” He hesitated. “I like you. More than I probably should, considering how little time it’s been. I don’t know—maybe you can read minds, or maybe it’s just a weird coincidence, but I was thinking something similar before you said what you did.”

  She let go of the door handle and turned fully toward him, eyes locked on his face.

  “I feel partially conflicted. You’re the same person... but with multiple layers. Multiple bodies. It’s weird. Not in a bad way—just in a way I’m not used to...”

  Her gaze shifted, and something in her expression dimmed. That nagging voice—the one that always waited in the back of her mind—slipped in like a shadow. It was always there, arms open like an abusive lover she could never leave. The one that whispered:

  *No matter how beautiful you are, how talented, how accomplished—you’ll never be enough.

  You’re a beastly creature no one could ever love. Sure, you found some humans. Killed some rats. But what about the others? Why couldn’t you save your parents? Why do you ruin everything you touch? You’re a disgrace. The galaxies would be better off if you’d never existed. Your parents would still be alive if you were never born. If you’d met the same fate as the rest of your people, everything would be better for it.*

  The torrent rarely stopped. Around Nick, around friends, it quieted—sometimes. But now it surged back with vengeance, like it was making up for all the missed chances to tear her down.

  Her eyes began to mist over. She wasn’t crying yet, but she was bracing for the worst.

  She sat still, her mind looping through worst-case scenarios, bracing for the answer she didn’t want to hear.

  "I was hoping you'd never ask, but I wanted to nip it in the bud before you asked me at a weird time and I gave you an answer that left you with more questions than comfort. If the thought ever crosses your mind—whether I prefer skin or fur—I choose whatever makes *YOU* most comfortable. You're you, no matter what you look like. And I like both forms... Just, y’know, maybe don’t choke potential allies next time."

  She cringed internally as the memory of her overreaction with Moyra—the river noodle—flashed through her mind. Just a brief flicker, but enough to make her wince.

  He said it with a joking smile that melted the shadow voice and cringy moment inside her like a blazing sun melting ice in a starched summer heat.

  She smiled, her eyes still misted over—but now for different reasons than a minute ago.

  Now, the only things going through her head were meat, sunshine, and happy thoughts.

  She sat quietly, her mind flooding with pure bliss and a stream of random, dumb thoughts that made no sense. Nick began to wonder if he’d made a mistake by saying all that—her silence stretched long enough to make him anxious.

  “Ooof!” he gasped as Tiffany suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, then turned and hopped out of the car, towel over her head to shield herself from the rain.

  *Thump!* The door closed behind her, and she darted into the store.

  Nick sighed, pulled the lever, and reclined the seat all the way back. He lay there, listening to the heavy raindrops tapping the thin metal roof, the sound lulling him toward dreamland.

  *Ka-thunk—Thump!*

  “Mehmff...?”

  The opening and closing of the car door jerked Nick from his cozy slumber as Tiffany slid in, nuzzling the velour seats with plastic bags in her lap.

  “Mmmmff... Yaaaawn!” Nick stretched, bringing his seat upright.

  “Whatcha got in the bags?” he asked, nodding toward her lap.

  “Just some essentials,” she said with a grin, gently setting the bags behind her seat in the luggage area.

  He cocked an eyebrow, knowing that’s all he was going to get, and started the car.

  “All right, then. Keep your secrets.”

  “Where to now?” He asked asked.

  She flash a big goofy grin and pointing toward the main road. Then, in a comically gruff voice: “Onward—to the quest of tasty noms!”

  Nick laughed at her cheesy joke as they pulled out of the parking lot, the rain still pelting the car, making it hard to see outside.

  “One does not simply quest for tasty noms... Where are we going?”

  “Where else? Frank’s.”

  “Oh?! You’re a Lupas after my own heart! Wait... did Adam put you up to this?”

  Her happy smile faltered, as if she’d just been accused of something—but of what, she wasn’t sure.

  “No... up to what? They’ve got really good noms... and they’re cheap,” she replied, looking at him innocently.

  That’s what he always mocks me about... maybe—eh, just let it go. So what if he did? I’ll just give him a swift kick in the rear if he did.

  “I know, right? Adam always makes fun of me for liking that place, so I end up feeling like I have to defend myself every time it comes up.”

  Her face shifted to one of understanding as she nodded at what he said.

  “He’s just trying to rile you up—but I’m pretty sure you know that. That’s what I kinda picked up from him the few times we met. Besides... his loss.”

  She reached over to the center console, gently taking his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

  Even with the unrelenting storm outside, she felt a strange peace—and not just because of the future prospect of tasty noms. Present company, the soft tune playing on the radio (which she could best describe as an indie electronica station bleeding through the regular ones), the rain pelting the roof, and the soft whirring of the engine turbines—all of it was oddly peaceful. And it was very welcome right now.

  They cruised slowly down Highway 61, the main road leading out of town. It passed what felt like endless cattle pasture, rolled past Frank’s, and stretched on forever before finally skimming the edge of Nick’s family property.

  They pulled into the nearly vacant truck-stop, save for two 18-wheelers parked around back—most likely sleeping before continuing their journey. The eerie rattle of diesel engines mixed with the sudden woosh of air brakes drifted across the lot.

  Nick pulled into a spot right in front of the covered entrance. He got out and opened Tiffany’s door. She nodded her thanks, and together they dashed toward the front door, escaping the unrelenting rain.

  *Diiiiing.*

  The soft ring of the bell above the door alerted Elis to the two wet patrons stumbling in from the weather.

  “Well if it ain’t my favorite customer! What in the world are y’all doing out in this mess?”

  The warm smell of cooked meats and other delectable foods from the kitchen area wakes the slumbering beast inside.

  *Guuurgle.*

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Before anyone could answer, Tiffany’s stomach chimed in. She turned a deep shade of red, smiling awkwardly. Elis, meanwhile, was mildly surprised—and a little taken aback by the cute young girl with Nick.

  “Well... I guess that answers that question. You want the usual, hun?” she asked, looking at Nick, who nodded.

  “And what can I getcha, baby?” she added, glancing at Tiffany.

  Nick pointed at the pictures on the menu behind Mrs. Elis.

  “I’d like three of the family breakfast samplers, please... however you make it.”

  Mrs. Elis hesitated, watching Nick dig through his wallet. He looked up and gave her a roll-with-it gesture, circling his index finger. Elis nodded with wide eyes and started rattling off options—how she liked her eggs, sausage or bacon, grits or hashbrowns...

  Needless to say, Tiffany wanted one of everything, which made Nick cringe for his wallet.

  Tiffany noticed, slapped at his wallet, and shooed him away. He raised his hands in surrender and stepped back as she pulled out a hundred-dollar bill to pay for the food.

  “Do you have any Reds or Lucky Strikes?” Tiffany asked, catching Mrs. Elis off guard.

  “Honey, aren’t you a little young for that?”

  She turned to Nick. “Why you teaching this young’n your bad habits?” she asked with a serious face laced in playful tone.

  “Actually, ma’am,” Tiffany said, handing Elis an ID.

  “I’m thirty-five... but the cigarettes are for him, not me.”

  Elis slid her glasses down, looked at the ID skeptically, then shrugged and handed it back.

  Nick nudged Tiffany, whispering that he’d be right back, then excused himself to head toward the back restroom.

  “Gosh darn, hun, I wish I looked like you when I was thirty-five,” Elis bawked, turning to check the cigarette shelf.

  “Sorry, hun, we’re outta both.”

  Tiffany stepped up to the counter, scanning the wall of goods. She spotted some cherry-flavored rolling papers and asked for those, along with a large vacuum-sealed bag of fresh tobacco. Then she noticed some cases next to the lighters.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  Mrs. Elis turned, grabbed the cardboard display box, and handed Tiffany one of the large card-shaped items, setting the rest aside.

  Tiffany rolled the cold metal rectangle in her hand. She found a button on the side and tapped it—the item folded open like a book.

  “What’s this?” she asked, curious.

  “Nothin’ fancy,” Elis replied. “Just a cigarette case for folks who roll their own instead of buying pre-packaged.”

  “May I?” Tiffany asked, pointing at the others in the display.

  “Help yerself, hun,” Mrs. Elis said, sliding the box over.

  Tiffany perused the cases—some plain, some etched. She picked one with an etching of a floofy wolf’s head and returned the plain one to its slot, sliding the box back to Elis.

  “I’d like these three items, please.”

  Elis nodded, bagging up the tobacco, papers, and—what Tiffany considered—a fancy case.

  “So how’d you meet our local hero and favorite customer?” Elis asked, neatly folding the paper bag of smoking supplies.

  Tiff scratched the back of her neck, laughing nervously.

  “I guess you could say we... met at a dinner party. Our two organizations are collaborating.”

  Elis gave her a blank look, unsure if she was being pranked or if the girl was serious.

  “Gosh, darlin’, that’s a handful of fifty-dollar words if I’ve ever heard ’em.” She paused, looking Tiffany up and down.

  “You sure don’t seem to be from around here... You from up north?”

  “You could say that. I’m from pretty far away—technically here for work.”

  “Ha! That explains it. Probably why you ordered so much food too. Lord knows they wouldn’t recognize good food up there if it slapped ’em in the face!”

  Tiffany smiled and nodded, then glanced over her shoulder, scanning the aisles leading to the back bathroom to make sure Nick wasn’t back yet. She turned back to Elis.

  “Ma’am? Why did you call him a hero?”

  Elis leaned on the counter, arms crossed.

  “Listen, hun. That poor boy’s been through a lot. He’s been alone since he came back home. I’ve known people who had family members come back from war and went through a lot less — and still put a bullet in their brain when they got back. Some feel like they’ve lost everything — shoot, I know he did. He still blames himself for the death of his friend back in Afghanistan. The only thing he had going for him — which really is a blessing — was that he physically still had a home to go to. I shudder at the thought of what probably would’ve happened if he didn’t come home to a roof over his head... empty or not. And instead of taking what folks in that situation might call the easy way out... somehow, he picked up like things never changed.”

  “Adam was a huge help — got him a job, brought him back to reality. Nick really made a difference at the police force... I guess...” She paused, tapping her chin. “I guess what I mean is, he’s a hero to me. Doing what he does, putting others before himself, even after everything that happened...”

  Tiffany nodded with a soft smile, understanding full well in her heart what Mrs. Dorris meant.

  “Yes ma’am, I understand. He really is a treasure,” Tiffany said, handing over the cash for the food and bagged items.

  “He’s a little rough around the edges when you first meet him, but he’s a genuine sweetheart.”

  *Thunk.*

  Tiffany heard the bathroom door close. Nick walked back toward her, his wet shoes squelching over the yellowing linoleum.

  “Hey, what’d I miss?”

  “Oh, not much... Here, got you a gift,” Tiffany said, turning and handing the paper bag to a confused and curious Dixon. He began to unroll the top, peering inside.

  “Well—this is different…”

  “They were out of your usual,” she said with a shrug. “Figured this was better than nothing.”

  He pulled out the cherry-flavored papers, cocking an eyebrow at Tiffany. He remembered her comment from when they first met—how she liked the smell, how it reminded her of home. He wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind—nothing that she deserved to hear in this moment of kindness, his usual snarky humor just melting to a blank happy space.

  His expression shifted from serious to flattered surprise as he found the fresh tobacco. He pulled out the case, turning it over in his hand, thumb brushing the floofy wolf’s head etched into the cover. A small smile cracked across his face as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, running a gentle hand through her mess of red hair. “That was very sweet of you.”

  She nuzzled into his chest, breathing him in.

  “You’re welcome,” she murmured. “I know late breakfast and smoke supplies to replace your regular Reds—and to thank you for taking us in, not to mention putting up with everything you’ve had to deal with this week—doesn't exactly count as a fair gift exchange. But... figured it’s a start. Besides—you can make it up to me later.”

  Nick had an idea, but he didn’t want to assume

  "Wait—Wha?"

  "You'll see..." She muffled, face still buried in his chest for a moment longer before pulling back and heading to the fridge area where the canned and bottled drinks were kept—the ones that came with the meals. Nick, his mind floating in a light haze, stood next to Mrs. Elis, feeling lost.

  “She seems like a sweetheart. I’m sure if your parents were here, they’d be proud... Probably say something like *Now go get married and make me some grandbabies*.”

  That snapped Nick out of his haze. He did a double take toward Elis, then glanced at the bobbing red hair barely visible over the low-rise shelves of snacks and chips. His brain stalled, unsure how to process what she’d just said.

  Elis caught the look on his face and let out a bawk of laughter.

  “Elis!” Nick shot back.

  “What? You two go together like biscuits and gravy. She clearly loves you.”

  “I’m not sure how to make it work though…”

  “Honey, that’s all of us. Do the best you can and love the girl.”

  “Order up!” hollered Frank from the kitchen, setting four boxed meals on the counter.

  “And look, everything’s all boxed up for the two lovebirds,” Elis added, grabbing the meals and bagging them with a wink to a flabbergasted Nick. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You two looked like horny teenagers on a date. Now go, treat her good and enjoy y’all’s time together. Lord knows you need to relax and enjoy life while you’re still young.”

  She shoved the bagged meals into Nick’s clueless hands—thankfully, they remembered how to work even while his brain was still stewing.

  “Now go on—get! We can gossip about the dirty details later.”

  Tiffany walked up with the drinks, handing them to Elis, who quickly bagged them and shooed the pair toward the door. As they stepped out, she called after Nick before the door closed.

  “And I expect details!”

  Sigh... “To be young and in love again…”

  “What was that, honey?”

  “Nothin’, ya old goat!”

  “Ya gonna come back here and say that?” Frank hollered from the kitchen.

  “Only if we close early!”

  “Fine! Just lock the door and turn the open sign off!”

  Elis paused, then briskly walked to the front glass door checking the vacant parking lot. She locked it and flipped the green open sign to off. Frank’s closed early that day—which doesn’t happen often.