The Second Time Around

Chapter Five

Abby sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she stroked Atlas's fur, trying to steady her breath. The weight of the day pressed down on her—everything felt like too much. The noise, the confusion, the feeling of being lost in a world she was supposed to know. It was like she was living someone else's life, inhabiting a body that wasn't hers. Her mind was a tangle of broken memories, leaving her floating in a space where nothing made sense. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she stared down at her loyal companion.

Atlas rested his head on her lap, his deep brown eyes full of quiet understanding. Abby clutched the fur at his neck, letting her tears fall silently. She hated this feeling—this fear that she wasn't real, that she was just fragments of who she used to be, floating in some kind of limbo. She was afraid. Afraid of being alone, afraid of what would happen if Drew left, afraid that she wouldn't know how to live without someone there to guide her through each moment.

She didn't want to admit it to herself, but the idea of Drew moving out scared her. He had been distant, giving her space like she asked, but the truth was, she didn't want him to go. Even though she couldn't remember their life together, she needed him here. Without him, she wasn't sure she could make it on her own.

Her thoughts drifted back to the walk, to the sight of that red Mustang on the street. It had sparked something—a memory, a feeling. She didn't know why, but it reminded her of her own car, the one Drew said had been totaled. She didn't remember the accident, but she could picture the car now, a vague image of it in her mind—its sleek, bold lines, the way the engine purred when she drove it. And the fact that she hadn't seen it, hadn't been able to touch it since the accident, felt like a loss she couldn't explain. It was another piece of her that had been taken away, something she desperately needed to connect with again.

As the room grew darker with the setting sun, Abby felt the emptiness grow heavier. Her breathing hitched, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly into her palms. She wanted to remember. She wanted to feel whole again.

A soft knock on the door startled her, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself. The door creaked open, and Drew stepped inside, his face soft with concern. He glanced at her and then at Atlas, who hadn't moved from his position by her side. His eyes narrowed in on the dog for a moment before shifting back to Abby.

"Hey, you didn't come down for dinner," Drew said gently, stepping closer. "I just wanted to check on you."

Abby took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes again. "I'm... I'm fine," she said, though the tears still clung to her voice. She wasn't sure how to explain what had happened, but she could see Drew wasn't going to leave without an answer. "I just... had a hard time on the walk. I got lost."

Drew's face softened even more as he moved to sit beside her on the bed. "You got lost?"

Abby nodded, fresh tears spilling over. "I didn't know where I was. The city, all the noise... it was too much. I couldn't remember how to get home, Drew. I felt like I was drowning." She reached down to stroke Atlas's fur, her voice trembling. "But Atlas... he brought me back. He knew the way."

Drew's eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite place—admiration, maybe, or relief. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand on Atlas's back. "He's always been protective of you, but... he seems different now. More in tune with you." Drew looked at her with a mixture of concern and hope. "Maybe he could be trained as a service dog, Abby. He's already showing that he can help guide you. I think he'd be amazing at it."

Abby sniffled, glancing down at Atlas, who seemed to be staring back at her with an almost knowing expression. The idea of having Atlas by her side, not just as a pet but as something more, gave her a small sense of comfort. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.