With an obnoxious yawn so loud it made Boomer bark in suspicion, Conner made the decision.
Conner:Anything ice cream can fix?
Sadie:You shouldn’t want to be around me. I’ll just mess up your life.
Conner:I don’t believe that.
Sadie:You should. I’m bad for you.
Conner bristled, certain she was only feeling this way because her brother had gotten in her head. If it killed him, he was going to get to the bottom of this. Marc had always had a broodiness about him, even back in vet school. But he was different now. Irritable. Quicker to snap. No way this was all on Sadie, but he was certainly taking it out on her.
Conner:Ice cream helps you live longer. I saw it on the Internet so it has to be true.
He waited for two minutes with no response. Two agonizingly long minutes.
Conner:Please? Boomer needs a walk, and I might fall asleep standing up.
Sadie:Only if it’s strawberry cheesecake ice cream.
Conner:Done. If we hurry, we can catch Glacier Ice Creamery before it closes.
Sadie:Ok. Meet you there.
After changing out his work shoes for tennis shoes, Conner clipped Boomer’s leash onto his collar. They only had three and a half blocks to go, but he picked the pace up to a jog to ensure he’d make it on time. If Sadie was late, he wanted to ensure she had her ice cream. She obviously needed it.
Conner could see the line was winding down through the glass-front windows as he and Boomer turned the last corner. Sadie sat on a bench, looking more fragile than he’d ever seen her. His heart ached for her. “All right, Boomer. You know what to do.”
The pup wagged his tail in earnest, clearly understanding his mission.
“You got here fast,” Conner said as they met Sadie at the bench. She started to stand, but Boomer climbed onto the bench and weighed her down with his upper body.Best. Dog. Ever.
“I was just down the block.”
The urge to draw her into his arms overwhelmed him. Her pain radiated from her in droves. He suspected she’d had another anxiety attack—a bad one, if he was reading the signs right. The redness in her eyes. Puffy cheeks. The way she suffocated Boomer in a hug the second he was in her lap.
“I’ll get the ice cream if you don’t mind watching Boomer?”
She extended her hand for the leash, and he handed it over. He risked a simple embrace of their hands. Quick but enough to reassure her she wasn’t in this alone. Not now. Not ever again. He was falling harder every day, whether he wanted to or not. He might as well embrace his feelings.
Conner returned with two heaping bowls of ice cream—strawberry cheesecake for Sadie as requested, moose tracks for him—and a pup cup filled with vanilla soft serve and crushed up Milk-Bones for Boomer. “We might need an extra-long walk if I give this to him,” he said to Sadie.
“He’s not fat. Just fluffy!”
“It’s not the calories I’m worried about. It’s the ice cream farts. They’re lethal.”
At long last, Sadie cracked a smile and started to laugh. “Boomer, they’re notthatbad, are they?”
“He can clear a room in under two seconds.” Conner wriggled into the space left on the bench, which was tight with Boomer spread out. But the pup wasn’t leaving Sadie, even for ice cream. Not that Conner minded the excuse to sit so close to Sadie, even with Boomer using his puppy-dog eyes to guilt Conner into bringing the cup to him.
Boomer’s eyes bulged to twice their size when he got his first lick.
At Sadie’s first bite, she closed her eyes and moaned in delight. Pure, unscathed happiness replaced her forlorn expression. “This hits the spot.”
“I’m glad.”
“Thank you,” Sadie said. “For the ice cream. For . . . coming to my rescue.”
“I highly doubt you need rescuing, Sadie Evans. But you’re welcome anyway.”
