“That’s my point. I’ve never been a jealous guy.”
He looks up, thoughtful. “In my experience, jealousy is usually about something else. Something you don’t want to say out loud. Do you think you can’t trust her?”
“No. I know I can.”
His blue eyes pierce right through me, right to the truth. “Then what’s that jealousy really about?”
I lift my hands, pressing the heels over my damp eyes. I have to confess the truth. I have to say what’s lurking behind these feelings, what’s driving me here.
“I’m scared, Dad. I love her. I love her in a way I don’t understand, and I’m afraid I’ll lose her.” My chest seizes, and I confess it all. “I don’t know if it’s some kind of… PTSD? I only know I can’t go through that kind of pain again. I barely survived it the first time, but with Gina… I wouldn’t get over it.”
He closes the space between us in two easy strides, pulling me into a hug. My shoulder is in his chest, and he places a hand on my back, giving me a few solid pats and a brief squeeze.
My dad. My rock. The one person I’ve always been safe with, who I can always be vulnerable around. He holds onto me, just like he did the first time I was afraid, when I was just a boy.
“Love is a risk, son.” His tone is gentle. “But when you take that risk, you get the most beautiful thing in return.”
“How will I know?”
“Ask her to marry you.”
My brows shoot up, and I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “It’s too soon.”
“Is it?” He frowns. “Sounds to me like you know what you want now.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she knows.”
“Then she’ll say no, and you can stop worrying about it.”
The pain in my chest breaks, and I rub my hand over my forehead, looking up to exhale a chuckle. “That might be the best small-town advice you’ve ever given me.”
“You’re a small-town guy.”
“I guess I am.”
“Listen to me.” He puts a hand on the top of my shoulder. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life than when I thought I’d lost Britt. That’s how you know it’s a love that will last. When you can’t breathe without the person. When the pain of being apart from them is so great, it drives you to do anything for them.”
I want someone to burn…
“What if these feelings are too big for me?”
“They’re as big as your heart. Trust your old man, and have faith. You’re too young to be alone.” He nudges my arm, giving me a teasing wink. “And get that hair cut.”
That makes me laugh, and it feels good to let it out. I’m glad I came here. I know what I need to do. “Thanks, Dad.”
25
GINA
My gaze is laser focused as I walk slowly down the row of hounds. They all stand at perfect attention, jaws level with the ground, four legs spread in an active stance. In dog-show language, it’s called a stack.
Their handlers, dressed in suits or formal dresses, are equally poised and alert.
Haze is here, the Afghan borzoi I’ve worked with on numerous occasions. Her coat gleams like spun gold in the lights.
Next to her stands a long-haired dachshund with an equally shiny black coat. I recognize him from previous shows, and I can tell they’ve been training, working hard to level up.
Two Irish wolfhounds jog out next, and their wiry gray coats and bearish gaits make me want to sit down and cuddle with them.
