It Will Come Back [Frank Castle].

Roll Over

Michelle fully expected Lucky to be gone within a month of having him. After all, who wouldn't want to immediately get their well-behaved dog back? Somebody had to miss him, right? She sure as hell would when he had to go.

One month became two. Lucky would sit at the window sometimes and cry. Sometimes, he tried to go across the street when they'd step out for a walk. Michelle wondered why an owner who lived so close wouldn't have ever dropped by with a quick, "Hey, thanks for taking my dog. Let's compare schedules so if I know when you're able to dog-sit him again." Or take Lucky back by now.

Two months became three. Michelle found herself taking care of the dog still as the leaves turned warm colors, and teens filled her classroom at the local high school. No word from Lucky's owner came, but sometimes, she could swear she felt eyes on her when they'd take a walk around the block. She never saw who was looking.

Three months became four. Fuzzy still didn't like Lucky, but refused to let a dog punk her. She strut around the apartment acting like Lucky didn't exist while simultaneously keeping her eye on him at all times. Another thick stack of cash found its way onto her doorstep, and her next door neighbor had almost walked outside to see Michelle crying over her fat stacks. Michelle began taking all her mail inside her apartment to read from then on.

Four months became six. Lucky didn't like many men, but the men he gravitated toward all seemed to be similar in muscled build and deep voices. Michelle wondered what his owner looked like.

Six months became nine. Michelle felt like the safest woman in Hell's Kitchen when Lucky attacked a mugger for her on one of their walks one Friday evening. She gave him some of her steak from dinner that night, and took him to play in the park all day on Saturday. The elusive owner still sent outrageous amounts of cash to her every month. No new notes accompanied any of them.

Nine months became ten. The school year was coming to a close soon, and Michelle was sad to see her senior students go, but was proud of all the graduates. Sometimes, she wished that she could redo her high school years and figure out a way to get out of Hell's Kitchen, but then she'd remember how much she loved helping the kids leave this place with a scholarship and a dream, and was content with her life.

After ten silent months, a knocking on Michelle's door made her turn her music down on her phone. Lucky's rare barking made her quickly finish icing the last cinnamon roll and investigate.

She cracked open the door with one hand and held Lucky's collar with the other, revealing a man in a dark hoodie and jeans. Even if he didn't have such an intense gaze, a frame that seemed to fill the doorway without being close enough for that to be possible or Lucky trying to squeeze his way out, Michelle knew who he was.

Lucky was leaving.

"Hi," Michelle said, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and nervously biting. She wasn't ready. All this time, and she wasn't ready.

"Hey." And there was the husky voice her Lucky always turned his head at.

Michelle let go of Lucky's collar in shock. The dog wasted no time nudging the door open more and enthusiastically jumping on the man, the two unaware of Michelle's thoughts about how she hadn't expected his voice to sound so...hot.

She was generously gifted with his rough voice again as he talked to the dog. She watched him pet Lucky and call him Max. Michelle hadn't considered Lucky could've been a Max, but certainly saw it now with the way the guy handled him. Max and The Guy. They seemed like a nice pair.

Better than Lucky and Michelle, fate seemed to think.

Dark eyes locked on her own, a hand coming out to shake hers. "I'm Frank."