I saw Noah running over a crest, skidding down until he came to a stop in front of us. I couldn’t catch my breath looking at him. It had been so long and I had missed him so much that it made me ache with need.

And it was like he was torn on what to say. I could see his relief at Magnus being found but his uncertainty about what to do with me.

“Juliet? What are you doing here? How did you find him?”

“I was bringing something to Gladys and Reina told me that Magnus was missing and I . . . I couldn’t bear the idea of you losing him.”

Again, I saw the pain and confusion in his eyes. “Your skin is all red.”

I held out one of my hands in front of me. “Little bit. But it was worth it.”

“You did that for . . .” His voice trailed off. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he stooped down to pick up his dog and carry him back inside.

That was it. Conversation over. I was never going to see him again. Pinpricks of pain lanced my gut, and I put my hand on my stomach, as if I was trying to hold everything in. I didn’t want to cry and yell his name.

Then he turned slightly. “Do you want to come inside and get something to drink?” he asked.

“Yes.” More than I’d ever wanted anything.

There was a crowd of people at his house, and once they saw that Magnus had returned, they started calling the other searchers and telling them he was safe. Then they began leaving after telling Noah how glad they were that Magnus was back home. Magnus seemed to be loving the attention of everybody who petted him and told him not to run off again.

I went to wait in the library. New hardwood floors had been laid down, but there was rough drywall on the interior walls. The weight of being in this house again pressed down on me. I tried to gather my thoughts, to figure out exactly what I was going to say, but they were scattering in a thousand different directions and I couldn’t slow them down.

Noah entered the room, handing me a cold water bottle.

“Thank you,” I said, opening it and drinking a large gulp.

Magnus came over to me, resting his head on my lap, as if to tell me he missed me. I scratched under his chin while my heart felt like a bomb about to detonate. Would Noah talk first or should I?

He retreated to stand in the doorway, his arms folded, his body language telling me he didn’t want me there.