“I got it.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you around, Bodhi.”
I nod.
See you around, little bird.
1
BODHI
PRESENT DAY
“Morning.” I nod as I walk in the front door of Vetted Paws, greeting Tanner Holiday, the co-owner of the veteran-run shelter. The white painted brick building looks out of place on the outskirts of Clementine Creek, but it’s perfect for what they do here—whatwedo here. The lobby is clean and inviting, the walls painted a forest green with the wooden reception desk and chairs lining the opposite wall. Framed photos of service members in uniform hang next to photos of the dogs adopted, the impact of this place clear in the news articles and words of gratitude spoken in the short time Vetted Paws has been open.
“Hey, good morning. Sorren is on his way back with a few new dogs, and we had one show up on our doorstep overnight.” A darkness crosses his face and I feel it too. “Just glad they brought him here. I got him settled, but can you just go back and check in on him?”
“Sure thing,” I tell him as I drop my stuff in the side office and grab some coffee from the pot, taking a steadying breath before going back out into the lobby. My run today, like most mornings, wasn’t enough to take the edge off—like I’m constantly unsettled, my anxiety palpable. The tightness in my chest is one thing, but more than once this week I’ve had to remind myself to breathe. My only saving grace is that with the colder weather, the goats on the Greene farm are tucked away in the barn instead of chasing me down the dirt road.
Montana and Ellison had gotten a kick out of that over the summer. Me, not so much.
Goats aside, running hasn’t helped and neither has lifting weights, kickboxing, or paddleboarding. Hell, in moments of desperation I even tried pottery, getting a massage, and for five whole minutes, I attempted a bubble bath.
I’d done the therapy thing since I was a kid—at different ages and in different homes and even as an adult. Some said I wasn’t open to it and others said I knew too much, the steps and coping skills something I could easily recite.
It just didn’t help.
Nothing did.
So I thought a change of scenery might. Too bad for me literally everyone in my life had vetoed that idea. Which is how I ended up at Vetted Paws, because apparently this is as much of achangeas anyone would allow.
Seriously, how had I let this happen? And why don’t I want to disappoint them?
“You’re scowling again,” Tanner says and I sigh.
“I’m just restless, trying to settle myself before I see the dogs.” Tanner nods, his blond hair still cut short like I’m sure it was in the military, his appearance clean and put together—light where Sorren is all dark hair and broody.
“I know what it’s like to upend your life for something new, to feel like your skin is too tight, and to constantly wonder if you’ll ever feel like yourself again—or even what that would look like.”
Turning slowly, I look at him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at a spot on the wall in front of us.
“Yeah,” I admit, surprised I feel a little less alone.
“Sorry, that was an overshare,” he says with a slight shake of his head.
“It…helped.”
“Oh, well, that’s good then.” Dragging his hand down his face, he nods. “Okay, yeah, I’ll let you get to it and uh, if you want to talk I’m here.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, and I mean it even though I’ll probably never actually do that.
I’m not big on sharing.
No surprise there.
Exhaling a long breath, I move through the facility and into the back where the dogs are all waiting for…something.
Love.
