Set big goals and then exceed them.
She’d always been the overachiever in her family. Her dad had remarked more than once that Bridget’s commitment to her mother’s care was what had kept her alive so long at the end. The problem, of course, was that a higher bar meant a longer way to fall when she wasn’t able to reach it as planned.
Recognizing this tendency didn’t make it any easier to avoid it. It just gave Bridget more to fixate on. Maybe this realization played a small part in keeping her up that night. She was filled with excitement and nervousness about the big day ahead, even though she knew she was once again playing into the addictive pattern of achieving success and then promptly growing bored of it.
The lack of sleep might have also been because she was still adjusting to her new place. Maybe her bed wasn’t set up for maximum feng shui, or Marie Kondo, or whatever interior organization thing everyone was doing these days.
The fatigue that weighed down her limbs now begged her to accept Hazel’s help getting this important piece of her life right. Then again, she’d probably be so tired when she returned home from work tonight that she wouldn’t even be able to make it to the bedroom before she fell asleep in an exhausted heap outside the door.
Whatever the case, she lay blinking up at the ceiling for hours before sleep finally took her. Of course, Teddy woke her less than three hours later with another exuberant bout of barking.
Bridget groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, which prompted the fuzzy Pomeranian to jump up onto the bed and dig at her side until she sat up with a huff.
“That’s it! You’re getting crated and covered at night,” she threatened even though they both knew she didn’t mean it.
Teddy smiled so wide his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth.
“How can a tiny eight-pound ball of fur make so much noise?” she asked, receiving a loving lick in response.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she grumbled, then pushed the covers aside and pulled herself from bed.
Thanks to Teddy’s early wake-up call, Bridget had extra time to get herself ready for work, and she needed every additional minute. By the time she’d downed her third cup of coffee and applied a second coat of concealer to cover the deep purple bruises beneath her eyes, she felt about 75 percent human and only 25 percent sleep-deprived zombie.
Progress.
* * *
“Good morning,” the receptionist called brightly from her place behind the giant circular desk. Two of the office cats flanked her, clearly happy for the company.
“Sheryl. Oreo. Mr. Jinx,” she said, greeting each of them in turn.
The cats ignored her completely, having decided they no longer liked her much after she’d adopted her three rescue dogs. Never mind that she was the one who most often cleaned their litter boxes.
“Oh, Bridget. You’re here!” Her favorite vet, Dr. Kate Llewelyn, appeared from the back room and came to place a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Rough night?”
Apparently the extra coat of concealer hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. She put on her best smile, even though she hated hearing what essentially amounted to an observation that she looked like crap. “Just busy with the move,” she answered sweetly.
“Ready to do our part to curtail the pet overpopulation crisis?” Dr. Kate asked, lifting her hand from Bridget’s shoulder and using it to pantomime the snipping of scissors. “Or do you need some more coffee first?”
“Ready.”
“Good, because Napoleon is ready and waiting. C’mon.”
Bridget and Dr. Kate worked side by side throughout the morning, mostly keeping quiet as they each gave their all to the animal patients before them. As the tech, it was Bridget’s job to cart the animals back and forth from their kennels and the surgical room and to hand Dr. Kate the tools she needed. The exciting new task became second nature by the time they finished that morning’s surgeries.
“See?” Dr. Kate said brightly, pulling off her latex gloves and shoving them in the waste bin. “You’re a pro already.”
Bridget smiled at this. She loved helping animals and especially loved that not a thing had gone wrong with any of their patients that morning. She continued to smile as she floated out into the main waiting area of the clinic to grab a snack from the mini fridge kept at reception.
That was when she saw him for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours. Her mysterious jogging neighbor.
“Hey,” she called before she could stop herself.
He turned his full gaze toward her, his sky-blue eyes attempting to identify her but apparently coming up blank.
“I think we’re neighbors,” she explained, pushing a hand toward him. This caused the husky at his side to growl defensively.
She immediately pulled away, not afraid but knowing better than to mess with a distressed dog. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him. I was just saying I think I saw you the other night going for run. Hey, don’t you have another dog, too?”
He stared at her without speaking for a few beats before finally nodding and wiping his palm on the side of his pants. “I’m Wesley. And this is Beau. My other dog is Snow, and it probably was us you saw. We try to get out and run at least twice a day, if we can. Dusty Peak Apartments, right?”
“That’s the place.” Bridget accepted his hand when it was offered again. This time Beau remained quiet at his side.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. You must be new,” Wesley said thoughtfully. It looked as if he was still trying to figure her out, and that made her a bit nervous.
“Very new,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes on Beau as she spoke. “Just moved in yesterday.”
“Well, welcome. If you ever want to go for a run, you can find us in 106.” Even as he said the kind words, his face remained neutral at best, giving her the distinct impression that he didn’t mean a single one of them.
“Thanks. It’s nice to know someone there now.” Her smile lingered for lack of any idea what to say next.
Wesley turned away and cleared his throat. “I, um, don’t have a lot of time. Couldn’t get the boss to give me more than an hour for my break. Is the doctor ready to see us yet?”
“Yes, sorry. I’ll go get her.” Bridget shook her head but still felt fuzzy and vaguely confused by the encounter.
By the time she returned with Dr. Kate at her side, Wesley and Beau had already been settled into one of the exam rooms.
So now she knew one of the neighbors, but she hadn’t the slightest idea whether he liked her. Maybe he was just shy, or maybe he was weird with everyone. Maybe Bridget reminded him of someone he’d once known.
Not that it mattered. Not really.
Bridget didn’t plan on making any new friends, and she always preferred life when it went to plan.
Chapter 4
Bridget returned home to torn cardboard scattered from one end of the apartment to the other. All three dogs came running to greet her at the door. Her rottweiler Rosco clutched a torn-up box corner between his teeth and wagged his stub in a happy blur. Her pets had never been this destructive at her father’s house, where she’d stayed after she was kicked out of her last apartment. But he’d also forced her to keep them confined to her room whenever she left home.
Like her, they just needed some time to adjust.
At least she hoped that was the case for all of their sakes.
Being rescues, both of her larger dogs came with some behavioral issues—chief among them, separation anxiety—as evidenced by that evening’s messy display.
After petting them each hello, she grabbed one of the few undamaged boxes that remained and set to picking up the scraps. The dogs followed her while she worked, hoping she’d change her mind about cleaning up and would start a game of fetch or tug instead.
At least she’d already unpacked everything she’d brought with her. She didn’t need the leftover boxes, anyway. If they’d kept her dogs entertained during her long shift that
day, then all the better.
But what might they destroy tomorrow?
There wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced, except . . .
Her heart sped to a crazy gallop the moment the horrible thought crossed her mind. Her legs jerked to life and carried her quickly across the apartment. What had she been thinking, leaving the bedroom open all day?
Falling to the floor, she grabbed her mother’s box from the back corner of the closet. Relief surged through her at once. She’d been so stupid. What would she have done if it wasn’t there? If she’d forever lost the last of her mother’s things?
Thankfully, both the box and its contents had survived the cardboard massacre. To be safe, she hoisted the precious yet dreaded package to the top shelf of her closet, where she knew no dog could ever reach it. Unfortunately, because of the sloped ceiling of the room, she was now unable to close the closet door, and that meant she’d have to see the wretched thing every time she came to or from her bedroom.
Maybe she could sneak it back into her dad’s house or convince one of the girls to take it off her hands for a while.
But then she’d have to talk about it, and talking was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d had more than enough time to cope with her mother’s death, known it was coming for years. They’d shared heartfelt goodbyes and even worked on a bucket list together. They’d worked about a third of the way through the items on the list before her mother became too sick to continue.
The partially completed list was in that box, too. Forever frozen between their last completed item (Count the stars) and the one that came after it (Complete a charity race). In fact, they’d already registered for their race and raised funds, but then they had to cancel when her mother became too weak to leave the house.
Bridget had begged and pleaded for her mom to join her in a wheelchair, but she’d flat-out refused. Instead she’d closed the notebook where they’d recorded so many of their adventures together and told her daughter that they’d finished as much as they could in the time God had given her.
And that was it.
She died less than two weeks later.
Bridget pictured that long-neglected notebook now. They hadn’t even made it halfway through the list. As much as she hated leaving things undone, she couldn’t bring herself to continue the journey alone.
She couldn’t even open the stupid box, for crying out loud!
And now she was crying.
Again.
When did the hurt finally go away? Did it ever? Or did it remain such a constant presence that it eventually became a part of who you were? Would the sense of loss one day identify her just as much as her dark hair or her chubby cheeks?
Teddy came over and let out a low whine as he studied his distraught human.
“I’m okay,” she told him with a sniff. “I’m okay.”
The little dog, appearing content with this answer, licked Bridget’s hand once, twice, and kept licking until she finally pulled it away. As soon as she did, Teddy’s body went completely still. His ears twitched, and then he unleashed another torrent of excited barks.
Her family had adopted Teddy about seven years ago. She’d been in tenth grade then, and she’d insisted on the adorable dog that looked so much like a stuffed toy that one of its most popular looks had been dubbed the “teddy bear cut.” Her mother had also fallen in love with the little fluffball on sight, and that was that. Nobody stopped to research the breed traits, to learn that they’d just brought into their lives one of the noisiest creatures that ever existed.
She’d grown used to Teddy’s barking. After all, he did it for everything—joy, pain, alarm, frustration, hunger, everything. Her dad and brothers, however, were constantly set on edge by the Pomeranian’s vocalizations, even now. That was part of the reason why she’d taken him with her once she was approved for the new dog-friendly apartment.
And she was glad she had.
Teddy had loved her mother, too. He knew what she’d lost, that she’d lost some important part of herself in the process. He knew, but he still loved her with an unyielding ferocity that no human being would ever be able to replicate.
Thank God for Pomeranians.
Drying her eyes with the palms of her hands, Bridget got up from the floor and went to stand at the window to see what had set Teddy off this time. She peeked out just in time to spot her new neighbor Wesley and his dogs crossing the courtyard below.
“Hey!” she cried, tapping on the glass to get his attention. “Hey! Wait for me!”
Wesley paused and waved; an uncertain expression flitted across his otherwise drawn features.
“C’mon, Teddy,” she called, shoving her feet into her best pair of sneakers and grabbing the Pomeranian’s leash from the hook by the door.
Once again, she wasn’t thinking.
Just doing.
Something about her new neighbor intrigued her. Definitely not his winning personality, but . . . something. Perhaps she’d figure out what that thing was after tonight’s walk—or at least learn enough not to be curious anymore. She doubted he’d spared her a second thought after that morning’s run-in at the vet, and that made him the perfect walking buddy, the very non-buddyness of him.
Both Rosco and Baby tried to follow them out of the apartment, but she didn’t want to make Wesley and his two energetic huskies wait a moment longer than necessary. Besides, she still had trouble controlling all three dogs at once, especially given that two of them were stronger than she was.
“I’ll walk you when I get back,” Bridget promised, blowing each of them kisses, then hurried downstairs to join Wesley, Beau, and Snow on their evening walk. Even if they didn’t know it, they’d saved her from the dangerous whirlpool of grief that had been gathering strength, ready to pull her under.
She could not afford to be drowned by her bitter emotions.
Not today.
Not again.
Chapter 5
Bridget hadn’t been certain Wesley would wait for her, but when she reached the courtyard a minute later, she found him standing with his arms crossed and one white-blond eyebrow lifted in her direction. Wesley’s dogs—Beau and Snow—sat placidly on either side, while Teddy strained against the leash so hard he could scarcely breathe.
He made quite a picture standing with his two large arctic dogs, looking every bit the arctic prince himself. In fact, his hair was so fair, it appeared to blend into his equally pale skin despite its length, which reached almost to his cheekbones. His chin and nose both had a sharpness to them that reminded her of an elegant bird—maybe a swan.
Where Bridget was made of soft curves from head to toe, Wesley had been composed of one angle after another. Even if his unwelcoming expression didn’t keep people at a distance, his generally icy air would most definitely do the trick. Never had she met someone quite so unapproachable, which was perhaps why she insisted on seeking him out tonight.
Or maybe she was just a glutton for punishment.
“I didn’t take you for a runner,” he noted with a smirk, making her think her latter conclusion was probably the right one.
Bridget put a hand on her hip and scowled. “Should I be insulted?”
Wesley shook his head and worked to hide the small smile that played at his lips. “You surprised me in a good way.”
“You invited me because you didn’t think I’d come,” she said aloud just as the realization struck her. Well, that was a jerk move on his part. Now she was glad she’d stopped him on his way through the courtyard.
“Maybe.” He stood straighter and cleared his throat. “But now that you’re here, let’s go.”
Without waiting even a second more, Wesley picked up speed. He and his dogs moved with a practiced fluidity that appeared more like a graceful dance than a sweaty exercise regimen.
“Ready, Teddy?” she asked the little fluffball at her side, wishing she’d had the time or the foresight to change into something other than jeans for her first run . . . we
ll, ever.
She’d been one of the girls who refused to sprint the presidential mile in middle school, preferring to walk and talk with her friends at her normal pace. But now she found herself running after Wesley, her breath already coming out in labored puffs as they rounded the first block.
“C’mon,” he called effortlessly over his shoulder. “If you want to jog together, then you’ve got to be able to keep up.”
Is this just jogging?
She’d never moved so fast in all her life. At least not on purpose.
Bridget’s heart pounded in her ears. The longer they journeyed on, the more her legs felt like limp noodles attached to bear traps—her limbs had begun to lose all feeling while her ankles screamed in protest.
She wanted to ask Wesley to slow down, but she couldn’t get the words out over her gasps for breath.
Teddy—the blessed little munchkin—didn’t complain or slow her down in the slightest. If anything, Bridget felt as if she were the one letting him down. Perhaps her father or brother had run him regularly when he was still living at home with them. They were both far more fit than Bridget had ever been. She’d always been the brainy one, the one who joined after-school academic clubs instead of trying out for sports.
Why had she decided to join Wesley again? Oh, that’s right. She had absolutely no reason whatsoever.
Once again her impulsiveness had landed her in thick soup. But no, she could reason this out, find a way for it to make a bit more sense.
Now that Bridget thought about it, she had a good job and was well on her way to an even better one, just as soon as she finished her DVM coursework. So perhaps that meant it was time to invest a bit more in her health . . . and her subconscious had figured that out before she did, right?
Of course, she was young still—twenty-three—and had inherited a speedy metabolism from her mother’s side of the family, but could she really expect that to last forever? Then again, would getting a bit fat really be the worst thing in the world? She already had chubby cheeks and had recently taken on a somewhat pear-shaped body, and while she considered herself decent-enough looking, she’d never been the kind of girl who needed a boyfriend to feel complete.
Wednesday Walks & Wags Page 2
