Ridiculous.
I’m the one who should be thanking them.
For coming into my life.
For being mine.
I’ll burn the world down before I let anything happen to them.
They’re mine. Always will be.
27
ELOWYN
“Who’s a good boy?” I coo as Varn bolts after the tennis ball, grass flying beneath his paws. He catches it mid-bounce and shakes his head like he’s won something. “That’s right! You’re my good boy!”
We’ve been at it for over an hour on the open stretch of the mansion grounds. Throughout the entire time, my encouragement has been light and carefree. I sound like my old self. Like the girl I was long before the lawsuit, my worry over Barclay and our finances pushed me out of the dog shelter, the place I loved most.
Leaving wasn’t a rational decision. I knew staying home and keeping an eye on Barclay wouldn’t change him. He never listened to anyone other than Duncan, and even he couldn’t save my brother from getting in trouble all the time.
And while losing Duncan left me wounded and aching, being away from the dogs was the final blow.
Now I have both Duncan and a dog.
My heart thumps with joy.
Life is perfect. Has been for the past two weeks since we got Varn. Since Duncan and I became dog parents in every sense of the word.
We’ve been cuddling him on movie nights, feeding him leftovers, and just falling in love with our pup.
Duncan doesn’t even mind that Varn sheds like crazy or that he’s addicted to fetch. In fact, he loves it. That pup will drop one of his many tennis balls at Duncan’s feet at any time of day, and my man is always up to play with him, throwing the ball as often as Varn wants to chase it.
It’s chilly out, but warmth spreads through me as I remember Duncan’s smiles. The ones Varn and I draw out of him. How he beams more and more often.
“Look at you,” I exclaim when Varn reaches me, ears perked, tipping his mouth up.
I scratch behind his ear—his favorite spot—then accept the ball and throw it again.
The sweet doggo he is, he takes off before the ball even lands. He’s a blur of gold sprinting through the grass, ears flapping like adorable little wings.
Duncan would’ve loved to see this.
If only he were home. But he’s not here. He’s on his way to a meeting with a client.
I sigh, remembering I was the one who pushed him to take the job.
When he got a call a week ago about a commission from a new client, his first response was absolutely not.
We’d just found each other again. Plus, thanks to his many investments, money isn’t an issue.
Technically, he didn’tneeda new project.
He wanted one.
He never said so. Never had to.
His eyes told me as much. So I encouraged him to accept the commission.
