Free Catch a Falling Star by Jessica Starre

said, and patted the porch swing on the other side of the dog. Jasmine, she’d called the dog. Pretty name for a sorry-looking mutt.
    Richard wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but so far he wasn’t getting anywhere, so he climbed the three steps up to the porch and gingerly sat on the edge of the swing, next to the dog. The dog gave him a look and edged closer to Natalie.
    “Jasmine, you be good,” Natalie said. Then, to Richard, “Go ahead and give her a pat.”
    Richard reached out and gave the dog a pat. It wasn’t the first time he’d given a dog a pat, but it was the first time he’d ever put any thought into it.
    The dog flapped her tail a time or two.
    “There you go,” Natalie said. “She liked that.”
    Richard reached for a floppy ear and stroked it. Her fur was a little curly but it was soft and sleek, not rough like he expected. Then he scratched her head, which made her flap her tail some more. She didn’t move from Natalie’s side but she gave him what he thought was an encouraging look from dark brown eyes. “She’s a good dog.”
    “She’s a great dog,” Natalie said. She took a bite of her yogurt. “We need to go to the grocery store, ’cause yogurt’s about all there is for lunch. But you can have some if you want. Or there’s tea or water if you’d like.”
    “I’m fine,” he said. He scratched the dog’s head one more time. The dog was busy watching Natalie eat. “Brianna probably won’t want you to sit here talking to me — ”
    “Brianna’s already chewed me out for that,” Natalie said. She didn’t sound concerned. “But I disagreed with her assessment. I don’t think I’m a traitor for talking to you.”
    A traitor. Christ, Brianna still saw the world in harsh black-and-white. Or maybe it was just him she saw that way. He could hardly blame her.
    “I guess … I mean, there are some things, if you’d done them, I wouldn’t sit here with you, you know? Like if you had smacked her around, then, you know, that’s that. But she says you weren’t like that, you just liked to drink. You did some really shitty stuff because of it, but I guess that you have a disease. Brianna knows that, too, but that’s in her head, not in her heart. In her heart you abandoned her because you didn’t love her.”
    Christ
. He should have turned down the damned invitation to come sit on the front porch swing. She
looked
like a nice kid. But hell —
    “I always loved Brianna,” he said. “
Always
. I just sometimes couldn’t — ”
    “Be there. I get it, you know. Spirit is willing and all that.”
    The flesh is weak.
Christ, if that wasn’t the truth.
    “Been sober five years,” he said.
    “That’s good,” she said.
    He patted the dog. She flapped her tail. “Not soon enough.”
    “Better than not at all.”
    “Maybe,” he said. “But it was easier being a drunk.”
    “I doubt that,” she said. She finished the last of the yogurt and let the dog lick the container and then the spoon. She set the yogurt and spoon on the porch floor.
    “What’s your story?” he said.
    “Mine?” She looked startled.
    “You’ve been sick,” he said. “I’ve seen what it looks like. You’re real little, like you didn’t get the chance to grow right.”
    She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and didn’t seem offended by the directness of his question. Made sense, considering how direct
she
could be. A little like Brianna that way, though a lot less angry.
    “I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was five,” she said. “My mom was still alive then. I don’t remember that much about her but I remember she was always at the hospital with me.”
    He sucked a breath in. “Tough times.” He had a hazy idea that she meant she’d had some kind of cancer, blood cancer, he thought, which meant drugs and maybe surgery. A lot of suffering for a long time. Not like getting your appendix out, over quick and you got back on your feet. Richard had been in the hospital once