“You wanna go for a walk?” I asked under my breath.
Her whole back end started wagging, paws doing tiny excited tippy-taps on the bed.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Alright, alright. Let’s go then. Quietly, okay?
I clipped on her leash and grabbed my hoodie. A walk sounded good anyway, something to keep my thoughts from spiraling back to everything I didn’t want to admit.
We made our way down to the first-floor event wing. The hallways felt empty and still, the soft hum of the air vents the only thing filling the space.
I remembered passing a small practice hall yesterday, tucked just off the main arena, where handlers could warm up their dogs or run light drills.
I checked my watch as I walked. 4:37 a.m. No way anyone else would be up this early. Except maybe the event staff, and even they wouldn’t be fully conscious yet.
The practice hall door gave a soft click as I pushed it open. It was a long rectangular space with rubber mat flooring and a handful of obstacles: low jumps, a miniature seesaw, a tunnel, a line of weave poles.
Pampi trotted in beside me, sniffing the air, tail wagging at all the new scents.
“Hold on,” I murmured, sweeping the room with my eyes. “Let me check it first.” An old habit, but a necessary one.
I walked the course, testing the footing and spacing, pressing my hands against the jumps, letting my wolf move quietly under my skin, alert to every shift in texture and scent.
When I reached the small seesaw, I crouched and pushed lightly on the pivot. It was smooth. No wobble. Still, I checked the bolts. Twice.
“Was that a basic check, or a full-on tactical inspection?” a voice said behind me, amused. “Didn’t expect this at five in the morning.”
I jerked upright so fast I almost smacked my head.
Chris leaned against the doorframe, hair sticking up like he hadn’t even looked in a mirror. Five minutes ago he had been face-down in his pillow, drooling into the sheets.
I frowned. I couldn’t decide if I was annoyed because he interrupted me or because he was already in such a good mood.
“Why are you here?” I asked flatly.
“Noticed you guys were gone,” he said, right as Pampi barreled toward him with a happy bark. He crouched instantly, rubbing her ears and murmuring something soft that made her whole butt wiggle.
“She’s not supposed to get worked up before a run,” I said, though my voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as it should’ve been.
“I’m calming her down,” he replied.
Pampi wiggled harder.
I stared at them. “That is the opposite of calm, Chris.”
He grinned up at me. “She’s fine,” he said, fingers rubbing slow circles behind Pampi’s ear
I forced back down an unwilling smile before he noticed.
He finally looked up. “So what’re you guys up to?”
“Checking the space,” I said. “I want Pampi to be familiar with it before we come in later. She got stressed yesterday. Don’t want a repeat.”
Chris’s smile softened, and then he said the worst possible thing.
“She’s fine, Jaime. You’re the one who’s stressed.”
I went still. My wolf bristled, uneasy at the clarity in his eyes. Chris must’ve felt the shift, because he didn’t push. He just turned his attention back to Pampi and scratched under her chin.
“You can handle the course, can’t you, girl?” he whispered to her. Pampi yipped, tail a blur.
