It was hard to focus on work when Troy was aware that Anah had stolen his truck, especially after Lloyd Westall arrived and asked where the truck was. Troy couldn't decide whether or not to lie, because for all he knew, Anah would show up in the next minute.

"You may as well tell him the truth," Shauna said, quietly.

"Yeah, that's going to go over well." Troy sighed.

"It's better than lying."

"Do you realize this sounds like a lie to anyone who doesn't know about Anah?"

"Yes, but it's not like you're actually lying."

"I would like to not be seen as crazy."

"Sam, just tell him the truth."

Troy looked into Shauna's eyes for a moment, sensing she had faith in him. "Okay, but if Lloyd doesn't take this well, you're paying for dinner tonight."

"It'll be fine, Sam, just tell him."

Troy wasn't so sure about that, but he turned and walked over to where Westall was cutting open a bag of animal feed. "Lloyd, you will want to know what happened to my truck?"

"Yeah," Westall replied.

"Okay." Troy was trying hard not to laugh. This is stupid. "So, when you were in the Pacific, did you… encounter a lot of local wildlife of the, uh, serpentine variety?"

Westall raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Yeah. King cobras, spitting cobras, you name it. Lot of snakes. Lot of guys were bitten."

"Well, when I was in North Africa, I met an Egyptian cobra, who is… let's just say, not a normal cobra. She's… of the magical variety. And she talks. And she stole my truck."

"I feel like I'm missing something here," Westall said. "So, you have an Egyptian cobra—"

"No, she belongs to a friend. I'm watching her while he's on his honeymoon."

"You're watching a friend's Egyptian cobra, which can talk and do magic, and it… stole your truck."

"Exactly."

Westall nodded. "Okay. Not the strangest thing I've ever heard. Have you called the sheriff?"

"Do you think he's going to believe me when I tell him?"

"Good point."

"The cobra will be back. Hopefully, we won't have to call anyone."

"Douglas is pretty small. Someone's going to notice an Egyptian cobra driving a truck. Also, how is she driving? Snakes don't have limbs."

"Magic."

"Okay, then." Westall went back to work.

Troy returned to Shauna, muttering, "Somehow I feel like this is all a bad dream."

"It's not, unfortunately. Anah really did steal your truck."

"Damn. Great. Just… great."

They weren't waiting for long. Troy knew exactly what was going on when the sheriff's car pulled into his driveway, and a slim older man with graying dark hair stepped out. Verner Ayers approached Troy and Shauna with a bit of an incredulous look on his face. He took a moment to compose himself before saying, "Sam, are you aware that your truck is not on your property?"

"I am, sir," Troy said.

"Well, I found the thief."

"I know who the thief is, sir."

"And you know what the thief is, Sam?"

"A talking, magical Egyptian cobra."

"Okay. Glad we're on the same page." Ayers led Troy back to his car, where in the back was a bucket with a lid bearing the words "Live Venomous" on it.

"The bucket's not necessary, sir," Troy said. "She's not going to bite anyone."

Ayers still took the lid off using a snake hook.

Anah's head appeared. "Hello, Troy."

"Anah." Troy could feel his blood pressure rising. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Ayers stepped back nervously when Anah started slithering up Troy's arm. "Where the hell did this snake come from? Does it belong to the warlock living out in the woods near here?"

"No. She belongs to a friend of mine, and he's in Malta right now. I'm watching her till he comes to pick her up. Can I ask where my truck is, sir?"

"It's at the station. No damage or anything." Ayers got in the driver's seat. "Put the snake in the bucket."

"She's not going to hurt anyone," Troy said with a sigh.

"Just put her in the bucket. Some of the officers are terrified of snakes."

"Alright, alright." Troy put Anah in the bucket and closed the lid.

As soon as the car was pulling out of the driveway, they heard Anah's voice saying, "The lid will not hold me," followed by the bucket lid floating upward.

"Anah!" Troy looked over his seat, and reached over to slam the lid back down.

Ayers cast him a curious look.

A soft giggle was heard, and the lid began floating again.

"Damn it, Anah!" Troy reached back to close the lid again. "Knock it off!"

Ayers gave him another look. "Did you agree to watch her against your will, Sam?"

"No. I agreed to it, but now I'm regretting it."

"How did this friend of yours acquire a cobra of all things?"

"North Africa. It's a long story. Half of it doesn't make any sense. All that's important to know is that she's magic, she talks, and she's relatively harmless. Just really annoying."

"I'm just impressed that she's got a good grasp on traffic laws. I actually saw her at a light and wondered why in the hell the truck was out with no driver. I thought it was possessed—"

"I wouldn't say that's entirely wrong."

"But when I pulled it over, there's this snake in the driver's seat, and a bunch of bags in the back seat. Looks like she went shopping."

"Shopping. She went shopping." Troy looked in the back again, and saw the lid was off. "Where'd she go?"

He suddenly became aware of something cold climbing up his side, and cursed aloud before scrambling to yank Anah out of his shirt. "For the last time, Anah, stay in the damn bucket!"

"It is cold in there," Anah said.

"I don't care! Stay in the bucket!"

"Is she better behaved when she's with you?" Ayers asked.

"Most of the time."

"I mean, we could restrain her at the station. It'll take some effort, but it's doable."

"I do not want to be restrained! Not again!" Anah snapped.

Troy's frustration with her faded when he remembered how Anah had been restrained in a glass tank in the SS laboratory in Augsburg. He hadn't seen how exactly she had been restrained, but he remembered seeing the busted glass and metal from her breaking out. "Take it easy, Anah, they're not going to restrain you. Just… settle down, okay?"

Anah didn't respond, and simply allowed Troy to pick her up and put her over his shoulders.

Ayers parked the car outside the town's police station. He hesitated for a moment, but then asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Troy said. "Could we… talk for a moment? Alone?"

"Make it quick."

Troy waited until Ayers was outside, then looked down at Anah. "Today hasn't been a very good day, has it?"

"No. I apologize for my outburst," Anah replied, softly.

"You also need to apologize for taking my truck."

"I do not want to discuss it right now. I… want to be with Moffitt."

"Well, you're stuck with me. Talk." Troy wanted to be angry with Anah over sounding like a child when she said she wanted to be with Moffitt. She knew he wasn't there. Troy stopped himself, though. He knew exactly how she felt. She had been rudely slapped in the face with a horrible memory and was trying to pull herself back into reality.

In the aftermath of Colonel Beckmann's arrest, Troy had been finding himself in similar situations. Unlike Anah, he didn't have anyone or anything to turn to for comfort. Really the only thing he had that even remotely kept him calm were his cigarettes, and those didn't always work. Memories of being tortured would show up at random times, if he allowed his mind to wander. He found himself grateful that he wasn't the driver in his jeep, as memories would appear and he wouldn't even be aware that they had driven several miles before it ended. Fortunately, Hitch was so focused on driving that he wouldn't notice the blank, distant look in his sergeant's eyes, though there were moments where he was nearly caught in his suffering.

He could hardly hear Moffitt calling out through the echoing shouts of the German guards, taunting him with water.

"Troy? Troy! Do you see that?" Moffitt was saying.

"Sarge? The German convoy's stopped," Hitch said. He waved his hand in front of Troy's face.

Dimly, Troy was aware of it, but he couldn't respond.

"He's out of it, Moffitt." Hitch turned to their British companion. "What do we do?"

"Snap him out of it! We can't sit here and let the Germans get away!" Moffitt said.

The tone of Moffitt's voice wasn't helping as Troy struggled to pull himself out. He refused to let his men see this. Eventually, he emerged, though the taunting and laughing and the sensation of water being flung in his face continued playing in the background of his mind. "What is it, Hitch?" Troy asked, ensuring his tone sounded like nothing had just happened.

"The convoy stopped. You okay, Sarge?" Hitch asked.

"Fine. Keep moving. We'll take them by surprise. Hitch, you and I will attack the lead. Moffitt, you and Tully go after the rear."

That was how it always was. He'd be gripped by a flashback and then rip himself free of it just long enough to pretend he was alright in front of his men, like he was putting his head above deep water and claiming he wasn't drowning, when in reality, he had lost the strength to swim a long time ago.

Troy let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I… shouldn't be pressuring you to talk, not when I know exactly how you feel."

Anah nuzzled his forehead. "It is alright. I am not as bothered by my memories as you are. It… just came as a surprise. That is all."

"Do you still want Moffitt?"

"I will be alright."

"You're sure?"

"I am sure."

"Okay. Let's go get my truck back." Troy left Ayers's vehicle, and met the sheriff standing outside the building. They went inside, where they had a long discussion about Anah stealing the truck and how no judge would take such a case seriously. Since there were no injuries, no broken traffic laws, and Troy was forgiving about the whole matter, no charges were pressed against Anah, and no one in the office really wanted to mention the case again, as it just seemed so absurd.

Troy went to get his truck from the lot. He looked in the back, seeing the bags that Ayers had mentioned before. "So, you went shopping, huh."

"I did," Anah said.

"What'd you get?"

"Oh. Things."

"That's very specific, Anah."

"Thank you."

"Answer the question. What did you get?"

"A surprise."

Troy picked up one of the bags, noting a fragrant smell coming from them, and opened it to reveal two large bouquets of flowers. "Alright. We have flowers in one bag. I wonder what those could be for. Oh, and two blank greeting cards. What a mystery!" Troy glared at Anah. "You know, I don't think Shauna and I would fall for this a second time."

"Well, if I had not been caught, you may have."

"I don't think so. What's in the other bag? Chocolates and a bottle of aftershave, and two more blank cards." Curious, Troy opened the aftershave and took a sniff. "Huh. For an animal that can't smell like humans can, you made a good choice."

"I went for something that says, oh, what is a good word…" Anah paused to think. "Sexy. I went for something that could be perceived as sexy."

"How would you know—you know what? Never mind. You shouldn't be doing this. Shauna wants to be with me, and I want to be with her. We don't need your help, okay? The fact that you took my truck is telling me that you're taking this too far."

Anah was quiet for a moment. "I hope you enjoy your date at the restaurant tonight."

Troy gave her a look. "What did you do, Anah?"

"Nothing. Just telling you that I hope you have fun tonight."

"Uh-huh." Troy nodded, still suspecting that Anah had went and done something mischievous again as he got in the driver's seat of his truck.

Troy's suspicions were proven correct when he and Shauna entered the restaurant to find the tables had been moved around for a makeshift dancefloor that several couples were already using. He really didn't want to know what Anah did to get this organized. He glanced at Shauna, and saw a big smile had come across her face.

"Oh, Sam, can we?" she asked.

Damn you, Anah. Why did you have to find the one thing she was going to get enthusiastic about? I can't say no to that face. "I'm not the best dancer," Troy said.

"Neither am I! It'll be fun."

The two really looked out of place against the other dancers. Shauna was wearing a pair of clean overalls and boots instead of a dress and heels, while Troy was in his work clothes and ever present slouch hat instead of a collared shirt and dress pants. Somehow, despite the effort put into the physical appearances around them, the two kept their eyes on each other.

"You know what else I'm noticing?" Troy said.

"What?" Shauna asked.

"Everyone else is younger than us."

"No. There are two elderly couples over there."

"Okay, but still. You wanna do this?"

"I do."

Troy had a feeling Anah only got this organized because a dance was what got Moffitt and Vanora together, and he thought back to how much Moffitt had been enjoying dancing with his bride at his wedding. It was impossible not to feel just how much he and Vanora were enjoying themselves.

He wasn't sure he could muster the same enthusiasm. Despite that, he took Shauna's hand, walking with her to an empty space on the floor, though they had to be mindful of other dancers. Shauna put her other arm around Troy's neck, stepping as close to him as possible—despite the risk of stepping on his boots.

They went at their own pace. Troy remained focused on Shauna and vice versa. The music was a bit loud, but Troy could hear Shauna saying, "Isn't it funny, how we don't dance or dress like the others?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Troy asked.

"You and I have gone through life like that, not giving much a damn what was expected of us."

"I'd say that's sort of true. We acted like we didn't give a damn most of the time, but in reality, we let it get to us sometimes."

Shauna nodded. "In a way, yes." She gazed into Troy's eyes for a few long moments. "I know the song playing now is about a woman with blue eyes, but it fits you as well. Mysterious, but as lovely as the sky on a clear day, or the ice over a lake."

Troy studied Shauna for a moment. In the three years he had known her, he never really paid attention to her eye color. That night, he noticed her eyes were hazel. A rather pretty shade of hazel. A perfect blend of green and amber, almost looking as though there were flecks of gold in when Shauna stepped into the right lighting. Troy had never been a particularly romantic person, but the last few times he had been with Shauna, he learned that she enjoyed romance. He was willing to try being romantic, but didn't want to go overboard with it.

He actually used the aftershave that Anah got while freshening up before heading to the restaurant with Shauna, even though he knew Anah wouldn't let him hear the end of it. As long as Shauna liked it, Troy didn't care. He chose not to say anything about it, wondering if letting her find it herself would be more romantic.

"You're not enjoying this, are you, Sam?" Shauna said.

Troy pulled himself out of his thoughts. "I'm enjoying it."

"You don't have to lie to make me happy."

"I'm just thinking, that's all."

"About what."

"About… how to make this more enjoyable for you."

"Well, I don't want to have all the fun." Shauna let go of Troy's hand in order to have both arms around his neck. "Then again, just being here with you is fun enough. Thank you." She paused the dance to hug him, then sniffed his cheek. "What is that smell? I really like it. It's very… romantic."

"Oh. Just a new aftershave I'm trying. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it, actually, but it's very naughty." Shauna lowered her voice. "It makes me want to kiss you all over."

Troy smirked, then leaned in to whisper in Shauna's ear, dropping his voice to almost a purr. "Then why don't you?"

"There're too many people here, Sam."

"One kiss won't hurt."

"But it'll turn into two, then three. That's how irresistible you are."

"You're irresistible, too, you know."

Shauna smiled up at him. "You're surrounded by many women much prettier than I, yet you claim I'm irresistible."

"Didn't I tell you last time we were here that you're more than a pretty face? You're not the porcelain doll your mother wanted you to be."

Shauna closed her eyes, still smiling. "Alright, Sam. One kiss."

A sudden jerky movement in the corner of his eye made Troy turn, and he saw a tangled, stumbling couple moving toward him. The man was holding a drink, and as he tried adjusting, he tripped over his partner's high-heeled feet, and the drink went flying, right into Troy's face.

Troy felt like he had been struck in the head by a hammer. Suddenly, he was no longer in the restaurant, but pinned against the hot sand in Beckmann's camp in North Africa. A pair of guards lifted him up, holding his arms behind his back, pulling so hard that his shoulders could dislocate if he resisted.

"Go on, give him his water," one of the guards said.

The guard approaching had a cup of water in his hands. He teased Troy with it, knowing how badly dehydrated he was. Troy could see healing bitemarks on the guard's right hand. Just the night before, that particular guard had been harassing him, trying to keep him awake for a few extra hours as punishment for making a run for the fence earlier the previous day. Unable to do much else, Troy bit him, and bit him hard. The guard's screaming had woken up Beckmann and several other guards, and Troy was muzzled with a tight rag for the rest of the night.

The guard who had been bitten hesitated for a moment. "He will bite me again," he said.

"Throw it at him, then!" one of the men holding Troy said. "He must remain alive!"

"Alright." The guard with the water flung the cup's contents in Troy's face, and laughed as Troy frantically tried catching it in his mouth.

It wasn't enough, and it was getting harder to suppress his desperation. The cramps in his muscles were getting more and more painful, like long, sharp claws were being driven into each one.

That became standard. Every time Troy was given his water ration, it was thrown at him.

What had been thrown at him in the restaurant wasn't water, but beer. Still, he found himself uncertain of what to do as the flashback continued to play in his mind. He was frozen in the middle of the restaurant. The flashback had stopped, but he couldn't hear anything aside from the rapid pounding of his own heart. He was frightened and enraged at the same time, dimly aware that he wasn't restrained this time. The man who had accidentally thrown his drink looked like that guard in brief flickers, and in those flickers, Troy wanted to attack him.

He could faintly hear Shauna's voice through his increasingly loud and distressing heartbeat. "Sam? Sam, are you alright?"

"I'm sorry about that, sir," the man with the drink said. "Are you okay?"

Troy wanted to fight and run at the same time. He was locked in that battle until the man stepped closer to him. The German guard briefly appeared, and Troy made his decision.

He ran.

He fled into the freezing streets of Douglas, unsure of where he was going or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He nearly slipped on ice as he sprinted down the sidewalk, but kept going, unsure of when he would be able to stop.

There were sections of deep sand, but he didn't let that slow him down. He was focused on one thing and one thing only—escape. There was pain coursing through his body, but he refused to address it until he knew he was free. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from that place.

Instead of being surrounded by sand dunes and an oppressively empty feeling, Troy was surrounded by buildings and people giving him a confused look as he ran by.

He looked over his shoulder, fearing that he was being pursued. He continued trudging through the sand, refusing to stop. A desire to cry choked him, but he was too dehydrated to actually cry, nor did he want to make any sound that could alert the Germans to his position. He glanced around frantically. Who was going to be alerted to his presence out here? The fennec foxes?

"Sam!"

Troy looked over his shoulder. Shauna was running after him. Shame and the remnants of the terror he felt trying to pull himself out of his flashback swiftly consumed him. Once more, he was frozen in place. He had been open with Shauna about his past that morning, but now she was actually seeing how badly it affected him. It felt as though a massive wound had opened down the length of his torso and his guts were on display for the world to see.

He stood there and let Shauna run up to him. She was carrying his jacket with her. "Sam! What happened? Are you alright? Please, talk to me!"

Where do I start? Troy thought. Involuntarily, he started rubbing his arms when he became more conscious of the cold.

Shauna threw his jacket around him. "Sam, please. I can't help if you don't tell me what happened. That man tripped and his drink spilled on you, and then you went completely silent. For a moment, it looked like you wanted to kill him! Your eyes—it was like you were somewhere else entirely!"

"I was!" Troy snapped. "Okay? I was! Do you remember what I told you this morning about not wanting to be stared at while I eat? In that same German camp, that's how they'd give me water—just fling half a damn cup at me! And you know what? It's such a stupid thing to be upset by! You don't want that in your life, Shauna! How can I be expected to be a good partner to you when something that stupid scares me?!"

"They were horrible to you! I don't blame you for being upset," Shauna said. "You shouldn't be ashamed of how you feel. I can't even begin to understand what you went through, but you don't deserve to keep suffering because of it."

"Don't try to trick yourself into thinking you can help me. You don't want this in your life."

"I still want you in my life, Sam! You don't deserve to be alone, and neither do I. Frankly, I don't want to be alone anymore." Shauna drew in a breath, stepping closer to Troy. "Damn it, Sam, I love you!"

Troy didn't know how to respond to that. He wasn't sure if Shauna was being genuine, or if she was saying it in a futile attempt to make him feel better. It wouldn't work, if that was the case.

It had been so easy to suppress everything around his team. Now that he had been more open with Shauna, it was harder to hide. The fortress in his mind was gone. He didn't know what to do, or say, beyond just removing himself from the situation. All because someone accidentally spilled a beer in my face. How stupid is that? No, Shauna's right. It's not stupid. It wouldn't be an issue if Beckmann hadn't tortured you, made you nervous around things that wouldn't bother anyone else. Then again, don't you remember how hard you fought to escape? How determined you were to not let him win? Well, you running away and breaking down like this in front of the woman who wants to love you is letting him win.

Troy thought back to Dietrich sobbing about how tired he was, about how he just wanted to get back up after being thrown down and kicked by his depression for so long. The longer he thought about that, the more he realized just how exhausted he was.

The sight of the British Army hospital base was a great relief. Just a few more steps. Just a few more… The recuperating soldiers walking around looked stunned to see him as he staggered in, hands half-raised. He couldn't speak with how dry his throat was, nor with how weak he was.

Weak… he hated to think of himself as weak. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't afford to be. But, that was all he could feel. There was no pain from hunger or the severe dehydration or the numerous wounds that covered his body. There was only the heavy sense of weakness.

He couldn't stand anymore. He fought it, and fought it, and fought it, and yet the hazy blackness continued encroaching on his vision. He stumbled forward. The blackness overtook, and he collapsed in the sand as a pair of doctors were running over to him.

Shauna was still in front of him, eyes wet with tears. "Sam?"

"I need to be alone right now," Troy said. "I'm not… saying I don't love you back. I just… need to get my head in a better place. I'm sorry."

Shauna looked like she was about to argue, but then let out a quiet sigh. "At least take me home first."

"Sure." Troy started heading back to where he parked his truck. He was still hugging himself from the cold, preventing Shauna from trying to take his hand. There was no conversation between them as Troy drove out to Shauna's home. The shock of everything that had happened was slowly beginning to fade, and was replaced by a heavy sense of failure and loneliness. Well, I screwed that up, Troy thought. It's over. There's no way she's going to want this to continue.

He parked in Shauna's driveway, and left the truck running as he waited for her to leave. She hesitated, and sighed before saying, "Come inside. I don't think you should be alone tonight."

"I've got Anah," Troy said. "I'll be fine."

Shauna fell silent, looking unsure of what to say next. She looked down at her lap, squeezing the handles of her purse, and drawing in a shaky breath as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Sam. There… must be something I can do."

"Come by my place tomorrow morning. We'll… We'll talk."

Shauna nodded. "Okay." She leaned over, paused, but then kissed Troy's cheek. "Good night, Sam."

"Good night, Shauna." Troy watched her leave the truck, and didn't start pulling out of the driveway until Shauna was in her home. He glanced at one of the living room windows, and saw her standing there, looking at him.

The road home was cold, dark, and lonely. Fitting, in a way, but Troy tried not to think about it too much. There was smoke coming from the chimney when he parked in his driveway, and when he headed inside, he saw Anah curled up on one of the couch's armrests, gazing into the fire.

"You are back sooner than I expected," Anah said, lifting her head. "Is everything alright, dear?" She slithered up to the back of the couch, frowning. "I sense a very powerful distress inside you."

Troy didn't have the strength to try to tell her everything was fine. Anah would see right through it.

"Go take a hot shower. I will make something for you."

Without a word, Troy hung up his jacket and hat, and headed upstairs. He struggled to put his thoughts together as he stood under the hot water and washed the smell of beer off his face. All that actually happened. It wasn't just a bad dream or hallucination or me getting really drunk. It actually happened, and Shauna had to see it. She saw it, I ran away, she tried to help, and I pushed her away. She told me she loved me, but I questioned it. He leaned against the wall in the shower, sighing. I wasn't thinking straight. Even now… did she mean it?

Anah was waiting in the living room when Troy came back downstairs, tying the band of his bathrobe. She was coiled around a mug of hot chocolate. "Sit down, dear. Tell me what happened."

Well, I've got no one else to talk to. Troy collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily. Anah slithered onto his leg, then climbed up to his shoulders. She said nothing as he picked up the mug. After several minutes went by without Anah saying anything, Troy figured she really was going to listen and try to help, especially after Anah breathed a rather concerned-sounding sigh. "I know you set up the dance at the restaurant," he said.

"I did," Anah replied. "Did you not like it?"

"It was fun for a bit. Then some guy tripped over his girl's feet and his beer went in my face. Sent me into this… awful memory of Beckmann's damn guards throwing water in my face. I was frozen for who knows how long, trying to decide if I should run or beat the crap out of the guy who dropped his drink. I ran. Just… bolted from the restaurant. All this happened in front of Shauna, by the way. She followed me outside, and tried to help. I tried telling her that she didn't want this in her life, someone who's scared of a little liquid being thrown in his face, and then she said that she did want me in her life and that she loved me. I… didn't say this out loud, but I did question whether she was being truthful, or if she was just saying it to make me feel better."

Anah was quiet.

Troy picked up the mug of hot chocolate again, and took a sip of the sweet, rich liquid. He felt Anah shifted on his shoulders, and heard her sighing. He gave a sigh of his own. "I took Shauna home. She was worried. I am, too. I told her to come here tomorrow morning so we can talk. I'm afraid that I've ruined this for good, because I pushed her away and denied that she truly loves me."

"Dietrich pushed you and the others away many times, and now look where you are," Anah said.

"This is different."

"In some ways. In others, it is similar."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You knew how badly Dietrich needed help, so you kept trying. Shauna is a lot like you. She will keep trying to help you, no matter what."

"I hope so. I'd hate to lose out on a woman like her." Troy looked down at the mug in his hands. "Still… I wish she didn't have to see that."

"She was going to see something like that sooner or later. It was always a matter of 'when,' never 'if.'"

"Yeah. Then there's the issue of… me not thinking she was being truthful when she told me she loves me."

"What does your heart tell you, dear?"

"Don't you know the truth?"

"I was not there. Even if I was, I would not be able to tell. I once told Moffitt that matters of the heart are not my place to interfere."

Troy had a feeling Anah would say something like that. "I have no idea what my heart tells me. I've never really listened to it before."

"That does not come as a surprise. You were given this—" Anah tapped Troy's head with her tail, "and this—" she next tapped his chest, "together for a reason. They both serve a purpose, and there will be situations where you must listen to both. You have let your head rule you for most of your life. Your heart has shone through a handful of times, but you have hidden just how brightly it can glow." Anah looked over at the fire. "What are your feelings toward Shauna? Do you love her?"

"I want to."

"Do you love her? Yes or no? Listen to your heart, dear."

"We've only gone on one and a half dates."

Anah sighed. "Troy, you are impossible sometimes."

"I'm being realistic here. We haven't been dating for very long."

"You have known each other for three years, and when you were talking with her this morning, I could feel nothing but deep, intense passion and care from both of you. You both see the other as perfect for you."

"I thought you said you don't interfere with matters of the heart."

Anah gave him an exasperated look. "Troy, you really are a massively stubborn donkey. Tell Shauna you love her."

"It's not like that's going to fix anything. What if I love her and she doesn't actually love me?"

"Before I left to borrow your truck, I saw how Shauna was looking at you, how she wanted to kiss you. The night you came home from your first date, I saw the memory of the kiss that she gave you at the forefront of your mind. She loves you."

"You don't think seeing me losing my mind over getting beer thrown in my face will change that?"

"I doubt it. If she did not want to be with you anymore, she would not have tried to help, or be so worried. Tell her how you feel."

Troy didn't want to keep arguing with Anah, especially since he knew she was right. He finished his drink, and stood up to go to bed. "Alright. I'll tell her tomorrow."