Not that she would, of course. Not without him saying she could first. That would be a bit too much like stalking. It was enough to know it was possible for now.

Chapter Thirty-Three

LEWIS BARKED AT Brody, then went to sit by the back door. Brody was still staring at his phone after ending his call with Anna, and hardly noticed. Lewis barked again.

‘Sorry, mate,’ Brody muttered and went over to let him out.

Lewis immediately ran into the middle of the courtyard and, instead of doing what Brody had assumed he’d wanted to do, he just started barking, and then the noise changed into what could only be described as a long, mournful howling, as he sat on his hindquarters and looked up at the moon.

It was a rather spectacular moon, large and full. Almost within reach, it felt like.

‘Stupid dog,’ Brody grumbled. ‘What do you think you are, a wolf? Just because it looks close, because it feels like you can get to it, it doesn’t mean you can.’

But Lewis ignored him and kept going. Well, Brody thought, as he shrugged and headed back into the kitchen, at least he wasn’t disturbing the neighbours, since they didn’t have any.

Even with all that baying, Anna’s voice was still in his ears, like the echo of a song heard after the radio has been turned off. He switched to his messages app, looking at Anna’s photo. She was wearing a thick grey scarf and a purple beanie with a paler crocheted flower on one side. The sun was low and slanting, highlighting the out of focus frosty fields in the background, but it was the foreground Brody was interested in.

God, she was beautiful.

He couldn’t stop looking at her eyes. He’d been right about them. They were large and open, wistful. But he saw other things there too, things he’d known about her even without seeing this photograph: determination, courage, compassion.

The rest of her face came into focus.

If he’d been a stranger, if he’d just seen this as a profile picture on Facebook, he would have probably thought it was a nice enough face but wouldn’t have given it more than a passing glance. It was interesting more than traditionally pretty.

But he wasn’t a stranger, and he couldn’t seem to maintain that kind of detachment for too long. He stared at the photo, drinking it in, God help him.

You’re a sad case, Brody Smith. A really sad case.

Half in love with a girl you’ve never met, never even seen, and she sends you a picture and then, well…

You need to get out more, mate.

He exhaled loudly and forced himself to put the phone to sleep. He didn’t, however, manage to make himself put it back down on the desk. Instead, he tucked it into his back pocket.

He’d chickened out of sending her a picture in return. What had he been so afraid of?

No, I mean, really… Maybe you should take a good look?