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away,” I say.

I’m eager to spend this time with her. Hopefully, she is breaking out of her shell a little. I watch Mylah a second. She takes the empty dishes and puts them in the sink, then comes back for more. I start scraping the leftovers into a container which I put in the fridge. I put more dishes on the counter before wiping off the table and then go back into the kitchen. I stand next to Mylah at the sink.

“How about I wash and rinse. You dry and put away?” she asks, looking at me. Her green eyes seem happier than yesterday. I’m hoping being here has something to do with that.

“Sounds good to me,” I say, taking a dish towel and moving to the other side.

Mylah fills up the sink with soapy water. She starts adding dishes in, letting them soak for a few minutes. She picks up the sponge and squeezes more soap on it, then starts scrubbing the dishes. There is something about being together that feels almost natural.

I want to know more about her and her childhood, so I ask, “Animals have always been your friends?” Hoping to pick up our conversation from yesterday.

After a moment, she answers. “Yes. I was the nerdy girl in high school. I had no friends, so I was always alone. My own parents even ignored me. That’s okay because it left me plenty of time to study. That came in handy when I decided to become a vet,” she explains with a bit of a smile.

I keep a smile on my face, but my heart aches for this lonely girl. “Yes, I can see how that would be beneficial,” I reply.

She puts a few dishes in the other sink and rinses them with water. I pick up a plate and dry it. Afterward, I set it on the counter. I pick up another dish and do the same thing.

“You certainly made a lot of food,” Mylah comments. I’m genuinely surprised. She actually wants to have a conversation.

I put the plate down and focus on her. “I love to cook. I always have,” I answer. She looks away from the dishes briefly. It feels nice to have her attention on me. “I like being able to create things and experiment with all these different ingredients,” I explain. I’m all passionate and happy just talking about cooking.

“Not to mention you get to eat everything,” Mylah jokes. She is blushing a little.

I laugh at how cute that sounded. “Yes, that too. I honestly think I could be a great chef,” I say, then stop talking. I can feel her gaze on me, so I finish my thought out loud. “But I know I’ll never leave the fire station. I love my job, and it’s too important.”

There is a moment of silence. Our conversation has taken such a serious turn. Mylah is staring at me. I think she has forgotten about the glass she is holding. It slips from her hand and lands in the sink with a dull thud. She jumps as soapy water splashes her. The front of her shirt is wet, and she has suds on her cheek. She stares down in disbelief as her cheeks turn bright red.

I try not to laugh, but I can’t hold it in. “I thought you already took a shower today?” I ask. Realizing that I’m joking, Mylah turns to me and laughs. That makes me smile. Her laughter is beautiful and sweet, just like her.

“Here, let me help,” I say. I grab the dish towel that is on my shoulder. I move closer to her and start wiping the suds off her cheek. She even has some in her hair that I didn’t notice before.

Mylah stands there stiffly, almost frozen. I didn’t mean to startle her. I’m just trying to help. I gently grab her hand to hold her in place as I continue to wipe her face. She looks at me, almost shyly, like she's embarrassed. Her green eyes shine brightly. Her lips tremble.

My heart hammers in my chest. It seems like this is new to her, being touched this way. Is it possible that no one has shown her any kindness before?

I put the dish towel down while continuing to gaze at her. I see that same sweet innocence. I lift my hand to her cheek. Her skin is smooth and soft beneath my fingertips. I can hear her breath quicken. Slowly I lean towards her. Our eyes close as our mouths meet. Her lips are soft and plump. I don’t want to frighten her, so I kiss her in the same kind and sweet manner that I have been showing her.

Gradually she starts to melt. Her lips loosen. Gently she kisses me back. She is shy and afraid. I move my hands to her waist and bring her close to me. I need her. I want to feel her. I press my body against hers. This is what I was dreaming about last night.

Mylah reacts unexpectedly. Her arms wrap around my neck. I can feel her hands and fingers running through my hair. She is enjoying the kiss. Maybe she wants more.

Suddenly she stops kissing me and jumps backward, nearly knocking me off balance. I remove my hands from her waist. Embarrassment is written all over her face. Her cheeks are flushed bright red. “Thank you for a wonderful lunch,” she says and runs out of the kitchen.

I can hear her footsteps reach the guest room, then the sound of the door closing. I stand there wondering what just happened. Did I push her too far?

Chapter Eight - Mylah

Night came quickly. I’m lying in bed tossing and turning. I can’t sleep. I just can’t get comfortable. Being here in the cabin is weird. I’m not used to sleeping in places I have never been before. I always feel strange and awkward.

The room is dark. The puppies are asleep in their box. I can tell because the room

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