I should know not to tempt fate, but the words spill out.
“It’s not like he’d remember me, anyway.”
VIC
After leaving Gareth and Dylan,I head back home for a few days before driving to Charnwell. Not only to break up the journey, but I need to pick up more clothes and all the stuff I’ll need to be able to work from home for the next couple of weeks.
I’ve managed to get two weeks off starting the eighteenth of December, but I’ll need to work up until then.
Charnwell is about an hour and ten minutes from me, but I have to drive to Newark first to pick my son up from my sister’s house. He goes to a private school, and unlike the public ones, their Christmas break starts early December.
I know my sister’s at work today and Joe’s already waiting outside when I pull up, rucksack on his back, and a huge smile on his face. He might only be seventeen, but Joe is fiercely independent. He takes after Hailey in that respect. She was always so confident, even at eighteen, when I first met her. At over six feet, he has my height, but the rest of him is all Hailey—a riot of red hair and eyes the colour of whisky.
I grin as he opens the passenger door and gets in. “Hey.” I pull him in for an awkward hug across the handbrake and he laughs but lets me. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too, Dad.”
“How’s your aunt Sam?” My sister is a dog trainer and lives only a few miles from where Joe used to live with his mum. She specialises in dogs with behavioural problems and also helps out at the local animal shelter. Since Joe’s interested in working with animals, it made sense for him to go stay with her when Hailey and Charlotte were offered the pub. Totally his decision, but one that both Hailey and I supported. Neither of us is far away, so it’s not like we don’t still see him loads.
He spends his weekends either working with the dogs, at the shelter, or visiting me and his mum.
I might not see him as much as I used to, but I’m immensely proud of the young man he’s growing into.
“She’s good,” he says, shutting the door, then rifling in his bag for something. “She also said to give you this.” He holds up a piece of card and hands it to me.
I notice the name emblazoned across the top—Holly GateAnimal Shelter—and groan. Underneath are photos depicting some of the current residents, all of them ridiculously cute as they stare out from the photos. “No,” I say, but can’t bring myself to throw it away because it just seems wrong. I reach over and tuck it away in the glove box instead.
Joe laughs. “She thinks you’re lonely and need a companion.”
I huff, but she’s not wrong. I am lonely and that ache has only got worse after spending last weekend with Gareth and Dylan. A four-legged companion isn’t what I was hoping for, though. But I guess it’s probably the more likely outcome. “And I bet she’s got just the animal in mind, right?”
Joe doesn’t answer right away, and I glance over at him after pulling out onto the road. “Joe?”
He fiddles with the strap on his bag, and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sam, I can easily say no to. Joe? Not so much. It probably has a lot to do with only getting a limited amount of time with him since Hailey and I split when he was a baby. Guilt still gnaws at me sometimes, even though I know both Hailey and I have always given one hundred percent where Joe’s concerned. To his credit, he’s never exploited this weakness, but I sense that might be about to change.
He takes a fortifying breath, then opens his bag and pulls out what looks like another flyer for the shelter. As I glance over, I can see a dog’s picture and a name, but I have to look at the road again before I can make out anything else.
“This is Jax. She’s an eight-year-old staffy.”
We stop at some traffic lights and he thrusts the leaflet in front of my face. Jax’s face peers up at me, her eyes tugging at my heartstrings in the way dogs have. She’s a silvery-blue colour, and I can easily imagine how soft her coat feels.
“She’s a beauty,” I say, because she is and there’s no point lying. “I’m sure someone will adopt her soon.” I shift in my seat, reaching deep to find some resolve for what I know is coming next.
“She’s been there for eighteen months already,” Joe says, taking the leaflet back and smoothing it out on his lap. “Her owner died and none of the family wanted her.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel as his words find their mark. “That’s awful.” I glance over at him. It’s a huge mistake because I catch the way he blinks rapidly, eyes suspiciously shiny.
I do not want a dog. I do not want a dog.
I repeat it in my head, over and over, while navigating out to the A617.
Just as I’ve convinced myself that I’ve got enough willpower to let him down gently but firmly, Joe goes in for the kill.
“No one wants her because she’s one of the older ones. When people visit the shelter, they don’t even give her a second look. She’s there wagging her tail and looking all hopeful, and everyone walks straight by without so much as a head pat.”
Fuck me.
I know he’s laying it on thick, probably exaggerating judging from the way he’s eyeing me, but all I can think of now is Jax’s face as people continue to pass her over for otheryoungerdogs.
