There’s a dog park on Brookline. Around seven? It’s usually quiet then.
A pause. Then:
I’ll be there.
Erin stared at the screen, her pulse steadying for the first time in weeks.
Leo nudged her arm, and she rested her hand on his head, feeling the warmth under her palm.
“Guess we’re going out,” she said quietly.
Outside, the day was already brightening. The world felt different. Still fragile, still heavy, but not hopeless. For the first time in a long while, Erin let herself want something good.
* * *
The sun had started to dip by the time she reached the park. The air held that soft, early-evening chill that meant fall wasn’t far.
Leo trotted a few steps ahead, tail high, his leash weaving between her fingers. Erin’s stomach hadn’t stopped twisting since she left the apartment. Every block she walked made it more real.
The park was quiet, just a few people scattered along the fence line, dogs running through patches of light and shadow. She spotted Jamie almost immediately — standing by the gate, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, head tipped down like she was talking herself into staying.
Erin’s chest tightened.
She slowed her pace, tightening her grip on the leash. “Alright, buddy,” she said under her breath. “You’re gonna be cool, okay? No jumping, no slobbering, no embarrassing me in front of… in front of her.”
Leo looked back at her, tongue lolling, as if to say she was asking too much.
She huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”
Her throat felt tight, but the air was crisp, grounding. She reached downand brushed her fingers along the top of Leo’s head. “Just a walk,” she told him quietly. “That’s all this is.”
Jamie looked different under the streetlights. Softer maybe, or just tired. Erin couldn’t tell. The breeze lifted a few strands of blonde hair that had come loose from her ponytail. She was still in her work jacket, press badge clipped to the pocket. It made something in Erin’s chest ache.
Jamie turned when Leo barked. Her smile flickered to life, quick and unsure.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” Erin’s voice came out smaller than she expected. She cleared her throat. “He’s been dying to get out.”
Jamie nodded. “I can tell. He looks good.”
“Yeah. He’s… he’s good.”
The words felt safe enough. They stood there for a second, both looking down at Leo, who was already pulling toward the gate. Erin bent to unclip the leash and let him go. He bounded into the mix of dogs like he hadn’t forgotten how to be happy.
They watched him chase a brindle mutt across the grass, his bark cutting through the quiet.
Jamie shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “He runs crooked,” she said, smiling faintly.
“Always has,” Erin said. “I think it’s the back paw. He overcompensates.”
Jamie laughed softly. “He’s like his mom, huh?”
The sound hit Erin harder than she meant to let it. “Maybe,” she said. “Stubborn. Refuses to slow down.”
They fell quiet again. The wind shifted, carrying the smell of grass and damp earth. Leo circled the fence and came trotting back with a tennis ball that wasn’t his.
Jamie crouched down to meet him, her voice gentle. “Hey, you remember me?” She scratched behind his ears, and Leo leaned into it without hesitation.
