Fletcher hasn’t complained yet. Hasn’t hesitated. He’s just stepped in—steady and capable, full of quiet competence—and made room for me without being asked. I think that terrifies me more than if he’d needed convincing. He did this without thinking it through, without all the facts. He did it without knowing the outcome. Or how long he was signing up for. And after today, he has a clearer picture of that.
He might not yet, but eventually he’ll start counting the cost. How long before this relationship starts feeling like an obligation?
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at it expecting to see Fletcher, but it’s Ace.
I almost let it go to voicemail, but decide at the last second to accept the call.
My arm feels heavier than it should as I lift it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Hey. You alive?” Ace asks.
“Barely.”
“Mm-hmm. Had a feeling you’d be overwhelmed.” He pauses. “How’d your appointment go?”
I’m surprised he’d even remembered, considering I’d only told him about it once. “Not sure yet.”
Another pause. “That rough, huh?”
“Just… a lot thrown at me, I guess. I haven’t processed it all yet.”
“Want to meet for lunch and talk about it? My treat.”
It isn’t a question. Ace knows I can circle these thoughts like a vulture, and he’s offering me a way out.
Bones whines on the other side of the door, giving me an idea. “How about we go to the beach instead? I’m not really hungry.”
“Sure. Whatever you want. I get off in an hour. Meet me at the pier?”
“I’ll be there.”
I sit up and text Fletcher.Stealing Bones for a walk on the beach. See you tonight.
When I arrive, Ace is hunched over the railing, looking out at the ocean. His shoulders are relaxed, face hidden under the brim of a ball cap like he’s trying to disappear into the gray. The sky and water blur together today—no clean horizon, a faded mess of dull blue and steel.
Kind of like my heart.
Bones thrusts his nose between the seats the second I cut the engine, dripping slobber onto my shoulder.
“I’m regretting my decision to bring you.”
His entire back end wiggles, crashing against the door as if I’ve just announced the best day of his life. When I get out, the scent of salt and exhaust hits me at once. Cold, sharp, and alive. I breathe it in, instantly glad I came. This is better than lying on my bed, wishing for a different reality.
Opening the back door, I clip the leash onto Bones’ harness before he can bolt. He’s already keyed up, eyes locked on a distant flock of seagulls. Maybe I should’ve asked Fletcher if Bones is a beach kind of dog. Judging by the way he’s vibrating, the answer is very much yes. But there is no universe where I’m chasing a Rottweiler down a beach—especially now.
“Stay close, you hear me?”
The dog tilts his head as if I’d just promised him treats.
Ace looks up when he hears us, and the moment he spots Bones, his whole face breaks open into a grin.
“Aww. Who’s this?”
“Bones. Fletcher’s dog.”
Ace crouches down immediately, all five-foot-whatever of him folding like it’s nothing. His hands go straight to Bones’s chest. “Well, hello there,” he says, voice going stupid-soft. “You’re a tank, my dude.”
Bones melts under the attention, one back leg kicking as Ace finds the exact right spot. Of course he does. Ace has always been like this with dogs—uncomplicated affection, no expectations. Bones lets out a happy huff and leans his weight into him. It makes Ace laugh.
