Bjorn stared at the beat up black car as his Uncle Neils explained why he needed to get rid of the damn thing.

"I bought it on accident at an online auction and your Aunt Val," he rubbed the back of his head, "well, I sure as hell don't need it. Your dad mentioned you might be able to use it." Uncle Neils held out the keys. "Consider it a late birthday present."

"Thanks," Bjorn muttered. He wrenched the rusted door open for Sven, and sat heavily on the old leather seat, letting the quiet wash over him. He loosened his tie and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, his hands resting lightly on either side. He'd almost skipped her funeral. Sven licked his ear, and Bjorn ruffled his fur without looking up.

"I just need a minute, Buddy."

Everyone, except his mom, had come. Even his little brother Eric, who'd said nothing, done nothing. Bjorn was shocked at how much taller he was. At fifteen, his brother was only a good inch shorter than him. Bjorn's father had shaken his hand, cordial and reserved. The Westergaards didn't hug, but something about his dad's eyes made Bjorn look again. His dad looked beyond tired; he looked beaten.

He was a son too and Bjorn realized the funeral was harder for his dad than it had been for him.

Someone knocked on the driver side window. Bjorn glanced up as he rolled it down. His father stood, leaning one hand against the car. Bjorn swallowed and cleared his throat.

His father gave a small silent smile.

"How's mom?"

"The same. You're well."

His father never asked questions. It set Bjorn's teeth on edge, knowing his father already knew the answers to questions he didn't ask.

"I'm good."

"Very good."

"I'm fine, Dad."

"You should visit her."

Bjorn looked away, "Yeah, I know."

"It's been too long, Bjorn."

"Dad—"

"Drive safe."

Bjorn's grandma had lived in a small quaint little town less than an hour away from the college. It was was one of the reasons Bjorn chose to attend college at that particular university. He drove home in silence. The car was old, but it worked. He hummed experimentally over a new line of music and tapped absently at the steering wheel. March was shaping up to be a real downer, the weather stubbornly stuck in winter gear. It might even snow, finally. The suit he was wearing felt hot, even though the temperature was steadily dropping outside. It was the the last Christmas gift his grandmother ever gave him.

"Every young man needs a suit." She had said.

This was the first time he'd worn it, and it made him feel a little better, to do this one last thing for her after she'd done so much for him. Bjorn rubbed the back of his head, fingering the short fuzzy hairs. When his father had called with the news, the very first thing he'd done was walk to the closest barber shop to get his hair cut. She'd always scolded him to 'Look like the person you want to be.'

For her, he'd wanted to be enough.

When he finally reached Cincinnati, Bjorn realized he'd driven straight to Wandering Oaken's. It was a Friday and Ella would probably be studying in her favorite chair in the bookshop. He contemplated going back to the apartment, but he didn't have anything better to do, so he grabbed Sven's leash and his guitar case from the back seat. Maybe he would catch Mic Night later and try out a new song. The familiar jingle of the bell and the warm coffee vapors hit his face, and he instantly relaxed.

"No dogs allowed inside."

Lars said that every damn time, and Bjorn continued to ignore him. He glanced around the first floor, which was packed full of people studying for third quarter exams. No Ella. She had a second favorite spot upstairs, so he tugged Sven after him up the Needle staircase. Still no Ella.

Bjorn glanced at the bar counter, and felt a small grin pull at his mouth. Anna sat perched on her stool, hair pulled back in a pony tail, alternating between staring at people and scribbling furiously in a blue notebook. He set his guitar down by a large easy chair and wrapped Sven's leash around the leg.

"Sit tight, Buddy."

Anna still hadn't noticed him even when he was standing right in front of her. Bjorn cleared his throat and she held up a finger, still writing.

"Just a second," She finished, and held up her notebook, blowing on the letters to help them dry before tossing it aside, "What can I do for—for you?" Her voice dropped off.

Her mouth hung open as she looked him up and down, and Bjorn squirmed. What was she doing?

"What?"

"You look hot."

Bjorn blinked.

Anna blushed and pressed her fingers over her lips, "Did I say that out loud? What I meant was, do you think it's hot in here, you look a little hot. Not that you're, you know, hot, but I just thought maybe the temperature was a little excessive, and I'm going to turn it down a bit."

With that she slipped off her stool. Bjorn turned and watched as she walked straight into a supply closet. He glanced up at the menu. He looked back at the closet. What had just happened?

Anna said you looked hot.

He shifted on his feet, the dress shoes pinching uncomfortably. He was okay with Anna thinking he was hot.

More than okay.

"Ella, what am I going to do?" Anna was talking into her phone as quietly as possible from the supply closet, peeking through the cracked door. Light from the coffee shop filtered in making the closet feel even larger. Even so her heart pounded at being in the close space.

"Anna, I don't really understand."

"I totally hit on some random guy. Like hard. I'm a terrible person."

"You did? Why?"

"Because, I don't want to go out with some random stranger dressed to the nines. I want to go out with Hans, but he hasn't been around for weeks. I mean, maybe I'm just really desperate. I totally came onto this hot guy less than five minutes ago. And when I say hot, I mean smoking hot, Ella. Am I trying to make Hans jealous or are my ovaries betraying me?"

"Anna, why did you hit on a random guy?"

"He was wearing a suit. I can't not hit on a beautiful, tall man in a dark suit."

"You think he was beautiful?" Ella snickered.

Anna groaned as she leaned her head against the wall, "Help me, please."

"It's not like you and Hans are dating. You're not even a couple."

"That's the whole problem."

"Look, I wish I could talk more, but I have to go." Her voice was tight and strained. Anna knew she wanted to get off the phone. But she needed Ella to fix this, to fix her.

"No, you have to tell me what to do."

"Send me a picture of the hottie."

"My phone is from the Stone Age, Ella. No pictures, no internet."

"I have rehearsal in less than a minute," Ella said in her mother voice. "Bye."

Anna snapped her phone shut.

Now what?

Now she had to walk back to the counter, as if she hadn't been hiding in the supply closet. She peeked out, and then almost slammed it completely shut.

No. No. NO.

That guy was still standing at the counter. Why was he still standing there?

Because he wants coffee. Duh.

She took a deep breath, and held it, counting to sixty, before letting the breath out in a rush. Anna opened the door a little wider and studied the stranger's back. He was taller than Hans, broader too, and looked amazing in those pants. A dog barked and the stranger turned his head. His profile was to die for.

Wait.

She knew that bark. Only one person ever brought their dog into Wandering Oakens and got away with it.

"Holy cats," She muttered. "Not him, please not him."

Anna felt herself hoping, a very tiny bit, that it was him. Still she couldn't move. A shadow crossed in front of the door.

"Anna?"

She yelped, "What?"

Bjorn was standing right there, a confused look on his face, "What are you doing in there?"

"Looking for the thermostat."

He pushed the door aside, and leaned an arm against the frame. "In the dark?" He reached over and flipped on the light.

Anna's mouth fell open.

Again.

He looked so different. Different, amazing. Different, hot.

Stop it, Anna.

"The thermostat has a glowing panel. It's easier to spot in the dark." Her voice was reaching a pitch only dogs could hear. She switched the light back off, mortified, and tried to slide past him.

"What are you staring at?" Bjorn switched the light back on.

"You." Anna cringed, "I mean, you're hair, mostly."

And his jaw, and his shoulders, and his arms, and everything.

Whoa.

"I had it cut."

Anna nodded, still staring.

"Can I get a drink?" Bjorn gestured behind him.

"Sure, absolutely."

They stood there, inches apart, looking at each other.

"Any time today, Red."

"Yeah," she giggled, "you kind of have to move."

"Right, sorry."

He stepped aside and she slipped by him. He looked nice, and—oh—he smelled even nicer. Anna caught the smallest hint of cologne underneath his deodorant as she passed. She wanted to bury her face in his shirt and—

STOP.

"The usual?" She tried not to look at him.

"Sure."

Focus, ovaries.

"So what's the occasion?" Anna gestured to his outfit. "You clean up good, Iceman."

"I had to be somewhere."

"Where somewhere?"

"A funeral."

Anna turned, her face softening, "Bjorn—oh no. I didn't know."

He shrugged and rubbed chin, "We don't talk that much."

"Was it her? That lady?"

"What—what lady?" His eyes widened just a little and Anna thought he looked a little startled, and a little lost.

"The one from before, with the station wagon," Anna said, her voice soft.

"My grandma."

"She looked really nice."

Bjorn swallowed and glanced down, "She was."

Anna put her hand on his arm, "I'm so sorry."

She only realized her hand was still on his arm when he pulled away. Anna handed him an iced coffee but shook her head as he reached for his wallet.

"It's on me today."

"Don't—"

"I want to."

Bjorn looked around again, still awkward, still lost.

"Just say 'thank you,' Bjorn."

His usual frown reappeared but he managed a grumbled, "Thank you, Anna."

She could listen to him say her name all night.

"Hey, Annie, long time no see."

Anna jumped as Hans slid up onto the counter and tweaked her nose.

"When do you get off today?"

"Hans, what—" Anna tucked her hair behind her ears, "what are you doing here?"

"I came by to talk, hang out, the works. I'm buying you dinner." He looked at her and then at Bjorn, frowning, "Or are you busy? Hey, Westergaard, what's the occasion?"

Anna didn't want Bjorn to have to answer that question again and forced another bright smile, taking Han's hand, "No, no, I have time. Actually, I was about to clock out."

Anna breathed out as Hans's attention returned to her and he glanced at his watch, "Awesome. I'll wait then."

She watched Bjorn walk away, wishing for the first time that she didn't have Hams's complete attention.

The phone rang and Ella picked up without thinking.

"Ella." The voice was firm, commanding, a ghost.

"Mother." Ella hadn't meant to whisper. She meant to be untouchable.

"You haven't been to therapy in two weeks. I'm concerned."

"That's my business." Ella gripped her phone, the knuckles on her hand turning white, the metal cutting into her palm. "If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

"Your father and I have given you space since our last … encounter. We apologize for not preparing you of our visit. Are you allowing yourself to slip into old habits?"

"Like you care," Ella hissed and then threw her phone across the room. It cracked against the wall. She was shaking. She stepped into her closet, and pulled down the box.

The hell with their concern and obligations. She drank straight from the bottle.

Calm down.

They left her.

She took another drink.

Control it.

They hadn't wanted her.

She took a third.

She was alone.

Anna laced up her running shoes, flexing her toes. It was a perfect Saturday, a perfect running day, the weather sporting a misty haze of rain lingering in the air, the clouds rolling over the sun with the gray of the day. In weather like this she could run for hours. She grabbed her red scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

Even if Bjorn did sit around growling at her to be careful, Sven's favorite games with Anna always involved this scarf. Sven wouldn't hurt her. She tiptoed out the front door careful not to disturb Ella. She'd stayed up too late last night.

Anna jogged up and down the parking lot, feeling her muscles loosen, anticipation singing through her body. She grinned knowingly as a door creaked and Sven barked as he raced down the stairs.

"C'mere, Sven!" Anna called.

"Sven, get back here," Bjorn hollered from the balcony. He was having trouble pulling his shoes on.

"Is your human grumpy today?" Anna knelt on the damp pavement, rubbing Sven's belly, as he wriggled in delight. "Yes he is. He's so grumpy. He doesn't want us to have any fun."

"Don't talk to him like that."

Sven rolled and jumped up into Anna's face.

"No, Sven, down!" Bjorn shoved the dog off her, but she laughed and pushed Bjorn back.

"Look at him trying to kiss my nose," Anna said as Bjorn rolled his eyes. "I love you too, Buddy."

"You know, he's still my dog, even if he likes you."

"Do you want to run? Yeah? Come on," Anna jogged towards the street, beckoning Sven, ignoring Bjorn.

He stood there, shoulders slumped against the rain, a gloomy pillar. "You don't tell him what to do. I do."

Anna ran back and jogged in place, "Is that so, Iceman?"

"Yes, that's so, Red."

She turned on her heel and started to jog away, unwinding her scarf. Timing was everything. Right before she rounded the corner of the parking lot, Anna threw out her scarf and yelled, "Come, Sven!"

Sven bolted like a black bullet. Anna laughed as the dog grabbed the scarf in his jaws, and she kept running, pulling him behind her. "I'll bring him back." She called, over her shoulder.

Bjorn was always mad at her anyway.

He'd get over it.

If it had to rain, Bjorn wished it would dump buckets. He preferred a good soaking to the misty damp. Grumbling to himself, he watched as Anna ran off with Sven in an old fashioned mutiny.

You're jealous.

Anna could be clumsy, but when she ran, she was remarkable. So long as she stayed focused. The moment her mind wandered, she would go flying, literally. Bjorn folded his arms across his chest and stalked back up to his apartment to wait. Without Sven, the space felt both hollow and oppressive.

The graying day distracted him from his homework and the ticking clock made him want to throw it across the room. In the back of his mind, Bjorn knew he was still unsettled from losing his grandma, but he didn't want to think about that. He dumped his school books and papers into his backpack, and pulled out his guitar.

At Ella's urging, he'd been preparing a couple songs for Mic Night at Wandering Oaken's but he wanted them to be perfect. He didn't write songs with words, so he stuck to covers whenever he sang. The music drowned out all sound, and Bjorn gave himself to it, so he didn't notice Anna and Sven coming in.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a musician kind of guy."

Bjorn jumped at the sound of her voice, "I'm not."

"You play really well."

Bjorn shoved his guitar aside, "It's just a hobby."

"Can't you let someone say something nice, just because?" She leaned on the back of the couch, right behind him, and started stretching.

"Please tell me you took your shoes off."

"You're worse than Ella," Anna pushed the back of his head. "You're not going to play that song at Mic Night are you?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's a downer."

"It's my favorite song."

"No wonder you're so grumpy all the time." She'd flung her iPod and headphones on the couch, "You should play happy songs."

Bjorn wound the headphones around the device and set it on the coffee table. Sven was gulping down water at his bowl and getting mud all over the apartment. Bjorn started to groan, but Anna noticed the muddy paw prints right after he did.

"Oh Sven, oh no. I'm sorry, don't get up, I'll clean it up," She became a flurry of motion, running around, hauling Sven onto the tile, and grabbing a dishrag.

She was already toweling Sven off before Bjorn could form a response. He hauled himself off the couch and grabbed the carpet cleaner from under the sink, and starting spraying the muddy prints.

Anna was chattering to herself, and Bjorn smirked.

"Do you always talk to yourself?" He called from the living room.

"I guess so." Anna came around the corner, and bent over, stretching some more. Sven, now mud free, bounded past him and curled up by the couch.

"Why?"

"I don't know." Anna fingered the rag in her hand. "I guess it keeps me from feeling lonely. Joel said I was always talking or singing."

"You sing?" Bjorn was on his knees, scrubbing at the carpet.

"I can carry a tune and stay in tune and all that, but I don't have any training or anything fancy. Ella is a fantastic singer."

"Stop changing the subject," he grunted.

"I'm not." Anna sat down on the floor.

Bjorn sat up, and threw his rag at her, "You are too."

"Ew, I don't want it." She threw it back at his face, but he caught it before it hit. "Thanks for letting me borrow Sven."

"You mean 'steal'."

She blushed, "I said 'thank you'."

"You're welcome."

Anna scooted over to the couch, still sitting on the floor, and gave Sven a pat. "How long have you had him?"

"Since he was a puppy," Bjorn shoved Sven aside. "I found him in some woods near my house at Christmas."

Anna's face twisted in sympathy and horror, " Someone left him there?"

Bjorn shrugged, "Probably."

"Poor baby."

"He was wandering around, covered in mud, cold and scared. He followed me home." Bjorn grew quiet as memories flooded, unwanted, into his head. "We've been buds ever since."

"I hate people who leave."

Bjorn looked up, the tone of Anna's voice angry and hurt. Sven laid his head in her lap and she stroked his ears.

"I'm adopted," Anna said, focusing on Sven as he licked her hand. "My brother Jack and I were found in an abandoned trailer."

Bjorn felt his own horror growing like fist in his gut.

"They split us up in foster care. I spent almost a year with Ella's family before I was adopted by the Jones family."

"Is Joel your dad?" Bjorn asked, frowning.

"No," Anna finally looked up, a small smirk on her face. "He's my guardian. His parents adopted me and then Jack a year after. But they were already in their sixties when the papers went through. They passed a few years ago."

Bjorn leaned against the couch. He didn't know what to say. She scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder, looking at her hands. He could smell her lavender shampoo and the salty sweat that had dried on her face. Bjorn folded his arms. Everyone had a story, he just didn't expect Anna's to be so damned awful.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

"Don't be," she grinned, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I have a family now, its just missing some pieces."

"How are you so—"

"So what?"

"So happy?" Bjorn shook his head. "I'd be mad as hell."

"You're always mad," She nudged him.

"Maybe I am," He paused, and glanced down at her.

Her face was flushed from her run, and her hair curling and frizzing out of the two braids she always wore. He wanted to ask more about Ella, but something stopped him. There would be time for that later.

Anna ran a finger over her toes, and made a disgusted sound in her throat, "I hate my feet."

Bjorn snorted, "What?"

"They're chubby and ugly, like gross man feet."

"They aren't gross, they're cute."

She sat up and gave him a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look. "You think my feet are cute?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

Bjorn rubbed the back of his head, "Sure it is."

"I'm not buying it."

"You're stupid."

She glared at him, "You're mean."

"Anna, all of you is cute," Bjorn growled, pushing himself to his feet.

"Wait, are we talking baby-turtle-cute, or like, cute cute?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but Anna kept talking.

"Cute is like the kiss of death. I'd take being called handsome over cute. I guess cute is better than ugly." She sighed. "Beggars can't be choosers, can they, Sven? My nose is way too long for cute, and my shoulders are kind of slumped."

"Stop talking."

"You don't see me when I'm not hidden under nice clothes."

"Please stop."

Anna was talking about herself being naked. It was a pleasant thought, but he didn't need it in his head causing trouble.

Too late.

He groaned, scrubbing his eyes with his hands. "Can't you just believe me when I say something?" He snapped.

Sven sat up, and made a chuffing sound in his throat. Anna seemed to shrink as she dropped her eyes, and sank closer to Sven.

You always do this.

"I'm sorry." Bjorn gritted his teeth. He looked away and then back at Anna. "I don't lie to people I like."

She sat up, "You—you like me?"

"You are stupid." He shook his head and clambered into the kitchen. He needed some water. Cold water.

"No, I'm serious, do you really like me?" Anna came around the corner and watched as he gulped down the entire glass of water.

"Of course I like you."

She stared at him for a moment before turning back towards the couch, "I should get back." Anna grabbed her shoes and trotted out of the apartment, barefoot.

She really was crazy. It was forty degrees.

Bjorn went to lock the door behind her when it swung back open. Anna stood there, her face red.

"I wanted to say thanks for listening," She tapped her shoes against her legs. "I've never really told anyone about—no one besides Ella, and it—it was nice."

"Why did you tell me?" Bjorn asked.

Anna scratched one foot with the toes of the other, thinking. "Because," She smiled and her eyes glowed blue amidst the gray backdrop.

"That's not an answer."

"You make me feel safe."

Bjorn stood, his hands in his pockets, not looking at her.

Safe?

You're anything but safe.

"I should go," Anna said.

"So go."

"I am."

Bjorn grabbed the doorknob and swung the door closed, leaning his forehead against it until he couldn't hear his heartbeat in his ears anymore.