“Th… that’s not a very dog-like name,” I manage, my voice tripping over itself.
“Eh. It fits him once you get to know him.”
I can practically hear the shrug in Beau’s voice, easy, casual, like naming a creature the size of a small bear “Jason” is the most normal thing in the world.
Jason makes a low, offended grumble that vibrates through the air.
The air shifts, and it feels like Beau bends down. I hear him scratching Jason’s fur. “What’s the matter, boy? You don’t like your name?”
Another soft growl pierces the air, and we both laugh. God, I already adore him.
“So,” Beau says, and his voice comes at me from above. I assume he stood up. “The sanctuary said you were asking after him yesterday? They figured we could do a trial match. See how y’all gel. If not, no worries, there are other dogs.”
The words hit me like a warm gust of air straight to the chest.
A trial match.
With him.
Warmth floods me so fast it’s dizzying. I grip the doorframe with my free hand, grounding myself before the swell of emotion carries me away. Because this isn’t just a dog. Not to me. Not after yesterday. He’s the presence that made my mind go quiet for the first time in a year. And now I’m being offered a chance to keep that? To keep him? “Oh, I… yes. Yes, absolutely yes. I… hold on. I should pay you. Do you have a number? I think the program said something about a hundred-and-fifty dollar enrollment fee. I’ll just get my phone.”
My words tumble out too fast, like if I don’t pay immediately, someone might snatch him away again.
I dart inside, feet finding the familiar rhythm of my living room layout. It’s a straight path, thank God, so I don’t end up hip-checking furniture or stubbing a toe. Even so, my pulse is racing by the time my fingers close around my phone on the counter. I whirl back toward the door, moving fast enough that the air whips my dress against my legs, and make it back in record time, somewhat breathlessly.
“Okay,” I say, trying, and failing, to sound like a normal, composed adult woman who is not vibrating with excitement over a dog. “Who do I send it to?”
“Send what?” Beau sounds genuinely confused.
“The fee,” I say, heat already creeping up my neck.
He lets out a startled laugh. “Oh! No, that comes after the trial period. You don’t pay a thing until you decide he’s your forever dog.”
“Oh. That’s… thank you, that’s very honest,” I manage, hoping he can’t hear the embarrassment dripping off me.
He clears his throat. “We try.”
But there’s something underneath those two words, some shift in tone, some flicker of emotion that tells me “we try” isn’t a slogan. It’s a quiet truth. A promise.
Whoever this man is, he’s nothing like the pushy salesperson I’d braced myself for.
Nothing like the people who treated me like a resource after my accident. Nothing like the sudden calls, the rehearsed sympathy, the expectation's weight.
Jason nudges my thigh like he belongs here already, like he’s anchoring me with a single touch. The pressure is gentle, a quiet assurance of his presence, which unspools something warm in my stomach.
I guess I should stop being rude and invite them in.
“Come in,” I say, stepping aside, hoping it hides the flutter in my chest. “Let me show him around.”
“You’re not worried I’m a serial killer anymore?”
Heat spreads up my cheeks. “No, I trust Jason.”
The dog pads inside, his footfalls soft and quiet.
“All right, big guy,” I murmur, trailing my fingers along his side. His fur is warm beneath my palm, and it makes my shoulders unclench. “Let’s give you the tour.”
We end up in the kitchen almost without thinking, and somehow, I don’t even remember when it started, but I’m talking to him more than Beau. Narrating cabinets, countertops, corners, explaining layouts like he’s my new roommate instead of a dog I met less than twenty-four hours ago.
