“You want to go now?” Reese asked. “Before our lesson?”
I nodded, teeth bared in an unsure grimace. “Can we?”
A smile touched the creases of Reese’s eyes as he watched me, like I was too adorable for him to say no to. If there was even a chance that was what he was actually thinking, I was going to hold that face for as long as it took to convince him.
“Alright, alright, stop looking at me like it’s you who’s getting the damn dog,” he grumped, taking another long drink of water before conceding. “I’ll drive.”
“Yay!” I jumped in the air again, fist high before I skittered off to grab my bag, following Reese toward the front door. “This is going to be great. You’ll see.”
Reese shook his head with a smirk, but my smile only grew wider as I bounded out the door and into the passenger seat of his car.
He was going to get a dog. He was going to get a dog because I suggested it. He was going to get a dog, and all I’d really had to do to convince him was assure him I’d help him with it. And at the bottom of all that, I only saw one truth.
Reese Walker trusted me.
And I wouldn’t take that for granted.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Reese
I needed a cigarette.
Every cell in my body ached for one as I stood rooted to the spot at the end of the first hallway of dogs, their barks ringing in my ears. Sarah must have sensed that I’d stopped, because she looked back over her shoulder once she was a few rows down. When she saw my face, she laughed, rolling her eyes and making her way back to me.
“Come on,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement framed her beloved crystal in such a way that it was all I could stare at, like somehow it’d bring me peace the same way it did her. “They won’t bite.” Her face screwed up then. “Well, actually, I can’t really promise that. Maybe don’t go sticking your fingers in cages until we talk to someone.”
That got a little laugh out of me, and I blew out a breath, scratching the back of my neck as my eyes wandered the hall behind her. “There are so many of them.”
“I know,” she said, voice softer this time. “Kind of sad, huh?”
I nodded.
Sarah watched me as I took in our scenery, the gray walls and black wire that made up the dog cages not doing anything to bring me comfort. It felt like we were in a prison, and being that I already felt that way by living in my fucked-up mind, I found I really didn’t need a physical representation.
“Hey,” she said after a moment, stepping toward me. She moved her head to the side until my eyes met hers, and then she smiled, the curl of her lips comforting and sure. “If you want to leave, we can go. I didn’t mean to push you into anything. I just… I just thought this might be a good thing, to get a dog, to have a friend at home. And, you know, to get one lucky guy or girl out of here.”
She looked around then, a shade of sadness passing over her.
My chest tightened as I watched the hope in her eyes slowly die at my refusal to move. There was something holding me back, and I hated that I couldn’t place it. I wanted to let Sarah in, to tell her that I didn’t mean to be the grumpy old man that I’d become — though saying I was old was a stretch at just thirty-seven.
Still, I was acting like an eighty-nine-year-old stuck in his ways.
The truth was I was scared.
But I didn’t know how to tell her that, so instead, I blew out a long breath, shaking the doubts from my mind. I would have plenty of time to decipher them later. For now, the only mission I had was replacing that look of despondence on Sarah’s face with one of excitement, like the one she’d wore when we’d left my house.
“So, we just walk through and…” I stopped, not knowing what else to say.
Sarah’s smile returned at my words, and she nodded. “We just walk through, and if we want to bring any of them out to play, to get to know them a little more, we let a volunteer know.”
I nodded, sliding my hands into my pockets. Then, without another word, I started walking.
The shelter had provided one-sheet facts about each dog, pinned to the wire that separated us from them, and I scanned those words as I passed each kennel. Some of them were born there, some were found on the streets, but the ones that really broke my heart were the ones who’d been surrendered by their owners. They were too wild, too energetic, too much trouble or, in some cases, simply too old for their owners to keep them any longer.
The more I thought about it, the more my blood boiled.
“How could anyone just give up their family pet,” I said when we’d turned the corner down the second hallway of dogs. “How could they just… I mean, aren’t pets sort of like family after a while? I can’t speak from experience, but…”
Sarah nodded from where she walked beside me. “I could never have given up Molly.”
“Molly?”
She smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “My cat. Daddy got her for me when I was three, and I had her all the way up until my senior year of high school. I swear, that cat followed me everywhere. And don’t get me wrong,” she said, holding out her hands. “She was a little shit. But she was my little shit. And I loved her, up until the very day she left this Earth.” She folded her arms around herself in what was almost a hug. “I really wished she would have stuck around longer than she did… her timing wasn’t the best, given everything that…”
Her voice faded, eyes spacing out like she wasn’t even in the shelter with me anymore. I wasn’t sure she even realized what she’d said, but I knew it wasn’t something she wanted to expand on. At least, not then. Not there.
I swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”
She blinked, shaking her head with a forced smile. “Thank you. I miss her, and I think when I get all set up in New York, I’d like to get another cat. I think I’ll be ready then.”
And in that moment, I could picture it all — Sarah in a little apartment in New York, snow falling outside her window, her curled up in a chair with an orange tabby in her lap and a book in her hand. I didn’t know why that vision came so easily to me, but I didn’t wish it away.
“I think that will be the perfect time.”
Sarah’s eyes found mine, her smile growing a bit before she knelt down to pet one of the eager dogs through the holes of its cage. I watched for a moment, fighting back a laugh when the dog got smart enough to lick her face through the gaps in the wiring. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut in a fit of giggles, shaking her head and pinching her mouth shut, but she didn’t move away.
I realized then that ever since I met her, Sarah had always seemed so grown up.
She was a girl, for all intents and purposes — twenty-one, wide-eyed and hopeful. But, whether she ever told me or not, she’d lived through more life than most people her age. She wore that fact like her crystal, a permanent accessory.
But there in that shelter, with that dog licking her face, I saw a girl when I looked at her instead of a woman.
It wasn’t that she looked younger, that the mature way she carried herself slipped in that moment, but rather that for the first time since I’d met her, the ghosts in her eyes seemed to be subdued. She laughed without the edge of worry that always seemed to follow her around, and I let myself watch her play with that dog until my chest ached in a completely new way. It was that same tinge of warmth I’d felt when I watched her with Danny, one that seared me with the urge to protect her, to guard that innocence she’d let show in that moment, to somehow save it and nurture it and help it grow.
Before that urge could take over my entire body, I tore myself away, scanning the cages of dogs as I made my way down the new hallway. They were all adorable. They were all friendly, tails wagging and tongues lopping out of their mouths as they watched me pass. They all wanted a home.
I had no idea how to even begin to make the choice of which one I’d grant that wish to.
Being that I had app
roximately zero knowledge when it came to animals, I read the breeds and names with a sort of distant recognition.
Bulldog, terrier mix, shih tzu, german shepherd, labrador, beagle, boxer.
Anxiety crawled up my neck more and more with each step I took, each kennel I passed, each dog’s eyes I made contact with. And for some reason, it wasn’t that I felt bad for the ones that would stay behind when I’d left.
It was the one that would come home with me that I worried most for.
Even at thirty-seven, I still felt like a child in all ways. I let my laundry pile up to an impressive mountain before I finally broke down to do it. I’d hired a maid to come by and clean my house once every two weeks because I couldn’t be trusted to dust and vacuum correctly. I still drank and smoked like I was in college, and I ate cereal for dinner more times than I would ever admit to anyone who asked.
How the hell was I ever going to take care of a dog?
I frowned as a softer truth settled in under all those excuses, and as I reached the end of the hallway, I was finally able to name that unfamiliar pressure in my chest. It wasn’t that I was scared of being able to take care of a dog, or that I didn’t think I’d be able to handle everything that went along with that care.
It was that I was scared of loving the damn thing.
Everyone I loved had left me in some way — whether by choice or by fate. Sometimes, I’d pushed them away. Sometimes, I’d missed my chance. And sometimes, I’d wasted the years I had with them, so sure I’d have forever, only to realize how much I’d missed out on once they were gone.
The truth was that I fucked up every relationship in my life. I was like Midas, except everything I touched turned to shit.
I was alone because I should have been alone.
That was the one lesson life had taught me and I’d learned well.
But all of that worry, all of that truth slipped away like a cloud on a breeze when I locked eyes on the dog in kennel forty-two.
Unlike the other dogs I’d passed, this one didn’t wait for me at the gate, tail wagging and paws scratching at the metal to get to me. Instead, he stayed back in the corner, curled into a ball with his tail limp on the concrete floor.
I glanced at the sheet, where I learned he was actually a she.
She was a pit bull, and her name was Rojo — pronounced ro-ho, like the Spanish word for red. I decided it fit her well as I noted the deep burgundy and chocolate brindle stripes that lined her fur.
When I didn’t move on from her kennel, she looked up at me from where she was resting, her tail flicking a few times before it was still again. I smiled, bending down to her level and placing two fingers through one of the gate holes. Rojo lifted her head at that, looking at me curiously as her tail began to come to life again.
It was like she couldn’t believe I’d stopped at her gate, that I’d found any kind of interest in an old dog like her. At first, she didn’t move at all, and I wondered if she thought I’d disappear just like all the other humans that wandered through here idly each day, picking and choosing who to rescue.
After a moment, Rojo heaved herself up, walking slowly toward me with her tail tentatively wagging. She sniffed my fingers, her snout cold and black, and I reached in farther so I could rub her chin.
“Would you like to meet her?” someone asked.
I glanced up at the smiling volunteer who had stopped at the kennel, a blond, twenty-something kid with braces. His smile was genuine, and without me even answering, he moved forward, unlocking the gate as I stepped back to let it swing open.
Sarah joined us as I knelt down again, this time without any metal barriers between Rojo and my hand. She sniffed it again, and just like before, I rubbed her chin. She closed her hazel eyes in what I swore was an appreciative grin, and then she moved in closer, letting my other hand come up to pet her back.
“Rojo has been with us a very long time,” the volunteer said, and the way he said it made my stomach pinch.
“How long?” Sarah asked from where she stood above me.
The volunteer checked the sheet hanging on the gate, and his face softened as he read the number. “One-hundred-and-seventy-two days.”
I did the math in my head as I turned back to Rojo, who was full on wagging her tail and leaning into me now. Nearly six months she’d been at that shelter, in that kennel.
Alone.
I scratched behind her ear, smiling a little as she let her tongue flop out.
“What’s wrong with her eye?” I asked, noting the cloudy mist that covered the left one.
“It was like that when she came to us,” the kid said. “Owner told us some story about her being born that way, blind in one eye as the runt of her litter, but, if I’m being honest, we’ve always suspected some foul play.”
I swallowed, teeth clenching together at the thought of anyone hurting her.
We were all quiet for moment, me petting Rojo as Sarah and the volunteer watched from above. I noticed the curious way he took in Sarah, and then me, like he was trying to put the pieces together.
Clearly, we weren’t related.
“She still has great vision through her other eye, though,” he continued, seeming to shake off whatever questions he had about mine and Sarah’s relation as he bent down to pet the dog with me. “And she had two healthy litters of puppies before she was brought in to us. We spayed her, of course, once she was in our care.” He paused, smiling when Rojo tilted her head into his touch. “She loves chewing on bones and cuddling, and though she walks slow, she seems to really enjoy getting out and laying in the sunshine. Not much of a fetcher, but I imagine she probably enjoyed it when she was younger.” He shrugged. “I guess what I’m saying is that she’s seen a lot in her life, regardless of that eye.”
“How old is she?”
He frowned. “She’s nine, which is why she’s been here so long, we think. Most people want a puppy, or at least a young dog.” The kid stood, and Rojo turned her attention back to me, leaning into my hand as I rubbed under her collar. “She’s at high risk.”
“What does that mean?” Sarah asked.
When the kid didn’t answer, his silence was the loudest response.
I swallowed, a rubber band snapping around my chest as Rojo put one paw on my leg. I smiled, bringing my other hand up to pet her, but she didn’t stop. She pushed into me, nuzzling me with her head and climbing up until I had no choice but to fall back on my ass and let her into my lap. That dog was way too big to be a lap dog, but there she was, curled up in my lap like she’d been in the corner when I first passed her kennel, her eyes closed, tail still wagging softly as I pet her to the tune of Sarah and the volunteer’s laughter above us.
And in that moment, we all knew that Rojo’s days of being at risk were gone.
***
Sarah
“I think she fits right in,” I said, sipping on the hot tea Reese made for us when we got home. We were both standing in the kitchen just like we had earlier that afternoon, only now the sun had set, and we were both watching Rojo chew on her brand-new bone. She was also curled up in her brand-new bed, placed near the front door just to the right of the couch, and she had a brand-new collar adorning her neck as she chewed, tail wagging, a content little grin on her face.
She might as well have been a brand-new dog for how happy she seemed.
Reese smiled, and it was in a way I’d never seen him smile before — not until that day at the shelter. Seeing him bent down and loving on an old dog was enough to make my heart swell up to the size of a balloon. And now, back in his home, Reese watched that dog with a sense of protection and care.
“I can’t believe anyone would ever give her up,” he mused after a long moment, sipping the hot Earl Grey from his own mug with his eyes still on Rojo. “Humans can really suck sometimes.”
My stomach twisted, something about the way he said those words striking me in a way I didn’t expect. A flash of my last night at Bramlock hit me like a branding iro
n to the face, and I closed my eyes, squeezing the images away before I opened them again.
I wondered if those flashes would ever stop, if they’d ever fade, or if that night would be on permanent replay in my mind.
“Trust me, I know,” I whispered.
Reese turned to me, his eyebrows meeting at that beloved crease. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just scanned my face like he could peel apart the layers of that last sentence I’d spoken. I could feel the questions swirling in his head like they were cars racing around me as I stood still in a parking lot. But he didn’t ask a single one of them. Instead, he took another sip of his tea, his eyes falling to where his hands rested on the counter.
“I wish you didn’t.”
My eyes snapped to him, but he didn’t meet my gaze. He just took another tentative sip of his tea before looking across the kitchen and into the living room again. He smiled when he found Rojo, and I turned, smiling, too, when I saw her bone had been abandoned, her eyes closed, legs curled up under her as she rested.
“I bet she is worn out from today,” I said.
“Her?” Reese asked incredulously. “I feel like I need to sleep for two days.”
I laughed. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Tell that to my lethargic body.”
“What was it that zapped your energy?”
Reese shrugged. “I don’t know, seeing all those dogs just waiting to be picked, to be taken home, to not be in that shitty kennel anymore. What an awful existence.” He paused, frowning. “Honestly, I think it exhausted me because I know exactly how that feels.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I mean, none of them asked to be there. They were good dogs. They loved their owners, at least, those who had the chance to have owners.” Reese tapped his thumb on the handle of his mug, still watching Rojo. “But, that’s what makes it such a bitch. You can love someone, give them everything you have, and still not be enough.”
Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series Page 63
