The Expansion of the Universe

Eighteen | "Oh, I remember."

Liza watched Elijah with anxious eyes the following day.

He was hovering by the back door, fiddling with her locks and muttering to himself about "safety, Milo, safety," while her dog sat a foot behind him, his dark eyes drifting between Elijah and Liza's position at the kitchen island, as if the dog was asking, Should I be more worried about him than I am you?

Liza would have laughed at the thought, if she wasn't so concerned about her neighbor and dearest (and only) friend. "Elijah?"

He hummed, not turning to face her as he fiddled with the windows lining the back of the house, inspecting the locks closely.

"Are you okay?"

Her only human companion turned to eye her over his shoulder with a small smile that didn't reflect the darkness in his gaze. "I'm okay, doll, but I'll be better once I know you're safe."

She shifted in the bar stool she was perched on. "Do you . . . do you think my locks aren't enough?"

Great. Now she was starting to worry because he was so damn worried!

Elijah sighed, his shoulders dropping as he turned to face her fully. "I don't mean to scare you, doll. I just want to double-check everything for my own sanity."

Well, that was something she was familiar with.

"Alright . . ."

"Great. Now, I've gone through everything except the upstairs windows, so we'll go do those next, okay, babe?"

"Okay, Elijah." She followed him dutifully up the stairs, Milo traipsing between them, her eyes following both her dog and Elijah as her neighbor continued his security sweep upstairs. When he finally finished, he returned to where she was waiting by the stairs and passed her a smile that was obviously forced.

"Looks good, babe. Have you heard from your doc at all?" He asked as he started down the stairs. It was odd the way he walked down them, though—he kept his body turned to the side just a bit, with the arm not holding the banister hovering about six inches from his side, as though he was preparing to catch something, and his eyes were always shifting between her and the next step.

Wait, was he worried she was going to fall?

She quickly pushed the thought away. Surely not.

Though, this was Elijah, and he was the nicest man ever . . .

"No, nothing yet. Did you look at your camera?"

"Sure did. Want to look at the photo?" He led her back to the living room, where she'd been camped out since the day of the scare, one eye trained on her driveway at all times, terrified that the man would come back. She figured that, if she saw him early enough, then she would have enough time to slide a bookshelf in front of the door and hide in her bedroom before he successfully broke in.

"Yeah, please," she said as she dropped down onto the couch, patting the spot beside her and waiting for Milo to join her before cuddling him close.

Elijah passed her a small but sweet smile as his eyes slid over them, and she swallowed back a sudden bout of immense emotion as he went to grab his phone.

She was so lucky to have him as a neighbor. He was understanding and patient, with just the right mix of goofy and serious, and between his presence and Whitney's support, she was making more progress than she ever thought possible.

How could she ever repay him for all he'd done for her? How could she ever convey her gratitude?

Anything materialistic likely wouldn't be enough to appropriately convey her gratitude, but the only other thing she could think of was silly, like a hug, since he seemed to like those, or maybe a kiss—