“And when it comes to Radish—” She’s interrupted by the sound of someone walking into the shelter reception, the dogs releasing loud, bellowing barks. “I’m so sorry. It’s been manic here today.”
I take one last longing look at Radish’s empty kennel, my stomach sinking, and follow Sheila to reception. A man is waiting, and I push aside my need to ask him if he’s the man who adopted Radish.
I feel protective over that dog.
Sheila sees to him, but then the telephone rings and her computer pings, causing her to grunt.
My teeth worry my bottom lip. “I’ll come back later, Sheila. You seem really busy.”
Her mouth turns downward. “Are you sure? I can—”
Another person walks in, and I shake my head at her, mouthingdon’t worrybefore exiting.
Rain is trickling down from the sky, and I gaze up at the ominous grey clouds and sigh. I call Nathan to let him know I’m done early—since he agreed to pick me up—and I let my thoughts wander.
Radish is out there somewhere. It feels similar to the situation with my father, where I’m left wondering if our paths will cross again. I’m not sure I can handle missing someone else.
Is he looking up at someone else with those big, doe-like brown eyes? Tail swishing as he receives a little head scratch? What kind of food are they giving him? Are they taking him for long enough walks? Is he happy? A lot of people don’t know that dogs can suffer from depression, too. What if they have a swimming pool, and he falls in when they’re not looking and drowns?
A horn blaring pulls me from my worries. Nathan’s looking at me through the rain-spattered windshield of his car, eyes asking me what’s wrong.
My heart skips a beat, suddenly realising how bittersweet this situation is.
I have an opportunity to work here in Missarali—a place I now see as home. But Radish won’t be around, which feels like a kick in the teeth. That, and I don’t know how I’m going to admit to Nathan that I don’t want to go to Florida. Because now that I have the choice, I know what I’d rather do. I know what feels right. I know that moving states isn’t what my heart wants. It’s not what it needs.
But it’s not all about me.
“What happened?” Nathan asks when I slip into the car.
“How do you know something has happened?”
He gives me anI know youlook, and his gaze flits down to the poster in my hand, trying to read the black printed words that are now streaky from the precipitation.
“Radish,” I say, swallowing my tears. “I’m supposed to be professional, but that dog. He stole my heart. I loved him like my own. He was… adopted..” I take a deep breath. “I’m happy for him, and I’m happy for his new owners because they’ve got such an incredible dog, but just the thought of never seeing him again. The thought of him not being called Radish anymore. That hurts. What if they pick some boring, generic name that doesn’t suit him at all?”
Nathan nods as I talk, his stubble a little longer due to a lack of shaving. He looks damn good with it, but it only almost distracts me. “Who says he won’t be called Radish anymore?”
I shake my head in confusion. “The new adopters aren’t required to keep the name.”
“I see.” He reaches into a bag by his feet and pulls out something jangly, placing it in my hands. “I had this made. What do you think?”
My eyes are round as I gaze down at the turquoise collar on my thighs. The fabric is delicately woven and intricate. Flipping the metal pendant hanging from it, I see the nameRadishengraved on it.
“It’s nice, right?”
Tears well in my eyes. “What… what is—”
“You can come out now, boy.”
At Nathan’s command, Radish leaps out from behind his seat in the back, attacking me with kisses so slobbery I feel like I’ve just showered. My heart rattles inside my chest, and a laugh bursts from my throat as I cradle the dog in my lap and cry with relief.
“You? You adopted him?” I ask, tears dripping down my cheeks.
“Yep.”
“What about Florida? I mean, I know you can transport dogs, but—”
“We’re not going to Florida, princess.” Nathan’s tone is challenging, and he cocks his head as he cups my cheeks. “I know you. And you’re not happy about going. If moving doesn’t feel right, don’t force yourself. We can work this out together, but I see the doubt in your eyes whenever I talk about going. You love Missarali.”
