“Yup,” Axel said. “He’s a beast. Got tons of work done.”
“Oh, cool. So Redemption Road came through again, huh?”
“Yeah,” Axel said. “That program has sure as fuck made it easier to manage the pet rescue. It’s taking up a lot more of my time these days.”
“Yeah, you got any new pups?” I asked.
Flynn and I were casually waiting for the right pet to come along. Axel was too damn good at placing them, though. We wanted to foster an animal that was struggling to find a second chance, so we let Axel reach out to his usual contacts first.
So far, we’d struck out.
“Actually, I’ve got a high-strung Weimaraner that isn’t placing easily. She chews nonstop, though.”
“We’ll take her,” Flynn said behind me.
I nodded. “What’s her name?”
“Greta.”
“Cute. Love it.”
“Yeah, you’ll love it until she chews up all your shoes,” he said.
“I’m not worried. You’re right next door. If Greta is too tough to handle, we’ll just return her to sender.”
“Very funny. You know it doesn’t work that way.”
“I know! It was a joke. I’ll call you over to give me tips.”
He nodded. “Oh, hey, tell Nova I’ve got a tuxedo kitten if she’s still looking.”
“Oh, awesome.” I pulled out my phone to text my oldest friend. “She’ll be excited.”
Nova had earned her bachelor’s and moved back to Riverton to take a job as a dental hygienist. I kept in touch with Sebastian and Iris, too, via a group chat. A quick glance showed a series of silly workout memes Seb had sent.
Seb:
Loving a fitness freak is hard work
Bailey:
You love every second of it.
Iris:
Yeah, stop bragging ;)
I laughed softly and tucked my phone away and picked up my beer. We made small talk while we waited for the steaks to finish.
Emory was excited about a big back piece he was starting work on at the tattoo parlor. Once he’d gotten to actually ink people, he’d been hooked for life. He said it was more addictive than getting tattooed. Now that he was an artist, he’d picked up a bit of ink—though not even close to as much as Gray or Axel had over the years.
“Of course, Gray might disagree,” Emory said. “That man loves getting tattoos. I’ve done three for him in the past six months. Not that I’m complaining. I’d ink every inch of skin if he let me.”
He bit his bottom lip, looking a little flushed. Time to change the subject.
“Where is Gray, anyway?” I asked, glancing around the yard.
“He went in to make a quick salad,” Emory said, “but that was a while ago. Bathroom break, maybe?”
