She nodded. “I wasn’t here when he first started rescuing them. I started only last year. But I think after Daniel left for college, Hudson got really lonely. Rascal was his first rescue.Don’t ask me how he’s still alive, but that dog is almost twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three?” I repeated. He didn’t look it at all.
“Hard to believe, right? Hudson must’ve picked up the other dogs over the years. I think he finds them on social media. Videos of dogs needing homes, especially the ones set to be put down at kill shelters.”
“That’s really kind of him.”
Tara smiled. “The fool’s as kind as he is stubborn.” There was affection in her voice. “A great combo in a man.”
I glanced at the dogs, some curled up, some nudging closer for a scratch. “Is there a reason they’re not allowed in the house?”
Tara shrugged. “I think Hudson doesn’t want hair everywhere since it’s not his house.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to Daniel. I don’t mind them inside. Maybe not the study where Mochi is. They’ll need to get used to each other first. But the rest of the house shouldn’t be an issue.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “That’s very kind of you.”
A sharp bark cut through the room. One of the smaller dogs startled Tara midsip.
“Oh. Right. I forgot to feed them. With everything going on—”
“I’ll do it.” I stood from the stool. “Why don’t you go shower? Or just head home. Whatever’s easier for you. It’ll be dark soon.”
The light outside had softened, touching the kitchen tiles with a faint mix of gold and smoky violet.
“I’ll wait until they get back, but a quick shower would be nice.” She glanced down at the dried blood on her pants. “I’ve got spare clothes upstairs. I sometimes stay overnight if a storm traps me. You really don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. Their bowls are in the kitchen in Hudson’s cottage. The kibble is in the pantry. Small dogs get half a cup, mediums get one, and big ones one and a half.”
“Got it.” I made my way to the back door leading into the garden. “All right, gang. Let’s go!”
The dogs leaped up, their tails thumping wildly as they surrounded me. I opened the door and stepped outside, nearly tripping over the excitement of paws and wriggling bodies pressing by.
I stepped through the back entrance of Hudson’s cottage. The place was charming. The kitchen was small and neat with a cast-iron kettle sitting on the stove and shelves lined with labeled jars. Just beyond it, the living room held a battered armchair with a thick wool blanket slung over its back. The cottage felt lived in. Warm.
Inside, the dogs danced around my legs as I scooped out their food. Feeding them felt like trying to serve dinner to a swirling mass of fur and chaos. The little ones barked orders like they ran the place. The big ones sat politely, heads tilted, eyes locked on every movement of my hands.
“Good boys. Good girls,” I said, rubbing a few backs once the bowls were filled.
I left the cottage through the back door to the sound of happy crunching.
Halfway back to the main house, I paused.
The sun was bleeding out over the ocean. Everything glowed orange and soft red, and the water glittered in that slow, hypnotic way that made you forget all your worries and just breathe for a second. My chest rose and fell with a tired but full breath. Rascal would be fine. The day had knocked me sideways, but in the stillness of that light, I felt a calm I hadn’t expected.
Back inside, I wiped my shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Mochi might want some melon. I sliced a few thinpieces and placed them on a small plate. We still needed to discuss the things he’d said earlier. Ugly things. He was smart enough to know not to do it again, after gentle redirection.
With the plate in hand, I walked through the hall toward the library. My footsteps slowed when I noticed the small wooden door at the far end of the hallway.
It was open.
I didn’t react right away, just kept walking. But then the light from the hallway hit something deeper inside. Another door.
Yellow.
And that one was also wide open.
