Walker nodded slowly. “Had a buddy in my old unit. Shell-shocked as hell after Fallujah. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function. Got himself a rescue dog, some mangy mutt nobody wanted. That dog saved his life.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes brightened. “Animals don’t judge. They don’t care about your mistakes or your regrets. They just respond to how you treat them.”
“And Boone needs that.” It wasn’t a question. He could see it now, clear as day. The young man’s isolation, his brittle anger, the way he carried his shame like armor. “Something to ground him. Give him a purpose beyond just surviving day to day.”
“I think so.” She set her mug down, her fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on the countertop. “A dog would be ideal. Something calm, older maybe. Not a puppy that needs constant training, but a companion that still needs care and structure.”
Walker moved to the window and stared out at the bunkhouse where Boone was probably still sleeping off his night in the barn. “Local shelter’s in Hamilton. About a forty-five-minute drive.”
“They might have what we’re looking for.” Johanna joined him at the window. “Something gentle but steady. A dog that needs a second chance as much as the man.”
The knot that had been in his chest since he’d called herstarted to loosen.Thiswas why he’d reached out to Johanna. Not just because she was good at her job—which she was—and not because he’d desperately wanted to see her again—which he had—but because she saw solutions where he saw only problems.
“Could work,” he said, trying to sound noncommittal even as his mind raced ahead, thinking of logistics, schedules, supplies they’d need. “Boone’s good with his hands. Could build a kennel, maybe even help train other rescue dogs down the line.”
“One step at a time, Walker.” But she was smiling now, a real smile that sparkled in her eyes. “Let’s see if he connects with a dog first.”
“We could go today.” The words came out before he could second-guess them. “To the shelter. Check out what they have.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
He glanced at the date on the kitchen calendar, the day marked with a single red X. How had he lost track? Between setting up the tree last night and everything with Johanna, he’d completely forgotten.
Christmas Eve already. The year was slipping away faster than he could hold onto it.
“Is that a problem?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t. The idea had sparked something in him, a sense of purpose and direction he hadn’t felt in weeks.
“The shelter might be closed,” she pointed out. “Or short-staffed for the holiday.”
“Worth a shot.” He drained half his coffee in one long swallow. The bitter heat of it cleared his head. “If nothing else, we could put in an application, get the ball rolling.”
Johanna studied him over the rim of her mug, her dark eyes thoughtful. “You really think this could help him.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “I do. Kidneeds something in his life besides his mom’s illness and his own guilt.”
She nodded, and the softness in her expression made his chest tighten. “I had the exact same thought.”
There it was again—that understanding between them that had always come so easily. Even after all this time, after everything that had happened, they could still read each other like this.
“Let me call ahead, see if they’re open,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket.n”Better to know before we drive all that way.”
While she made the call, Walker filled two thermoses with coffee. He glanced again at the Christmas tree, with its crooked star and mismatched ornaments. Funny how something so imperfect could still look right in the half-light of morning.
Johanna lowered her phone. “Good news. They open at seven, and they’ll be there until noon today.”
“Then let’s go.” He handed her a thermos and grabbed his keys from the old ashtray he kept them in.
But still Johanna didn’t move. “But what about Boone? Shouldn’t we talk to him first?”
He didn’t even consider it. “No. He’d just say no. Better to bring the dog here, let them meet on neutral ground. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll find another solution.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? Choosing a dog for someone else?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But Boone needs a push. He’s stuck in his own head, and nothing I’ve tried has worked. This might.”
Johanna studied him, her gaze thoughtful. “You really care about him.”
“He reminds me of myself. After...” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Johanna knew his history, knewabout the court-martial, the prison time, the long road back to something resembling normal. “He deserves better than what life’s handed him.”
