“There were several homes that were damaged, too, right?” Sawyer asked as they walked along the gravel lot behind the school.
“A few, but many of those have been repaired,” Mya said.
“We should still talk to the owners,” Paxton said. “I want to get an idea of how bad the flooding was and how close it has come to anything else they’ve seen in recent years.”
“We should probably tour the animal shelter, too,” Mya said.
Paxton stopped short, her stomach dropping. “The animal shelter?” she asked. “I didn’t realize it had been hit, too. Shayla never told me.”
Mya nodded. “It was. Thankfully, all the animals were saved. Callie Webber, the vet over in Maplesville, volunteered her practice as a makeshift shelter. But it was all still pretty traumatic for the animals.”
Panic filled Paxton’s senses. That animal shelter had been one of the biggest sources of comfort to her as a teenager. Just the thought of the animals being in harm’s way stole the breath from her lungs.
She turned to Sawyer. “We have to go,” she said. “I have to see it for myself.”
Even though Sawyer braced himself for the rush of memories he knew would hit the moment he stepped through the doors of the animal shelter, he was still taken aback. It looked the same, smelled the same—this place where he’d spent so much of his young life lusting over Paxton.
When she wasn’t helping her mother at Harlon’s, Paxton was at this shelter, tending to mange-ridden dogs and flea-infested cats. She spent so many hours there after school and on the weekend, so, of course, Sawyer had used every excuse he could think of to be there, too.
He’d considered signing up as a volunteer but thought it would be too obvious, so he’d gotten creative. He’d lied about collecting pet food donations and instead used money from his allowance to buy it, simply to have an excuse to come to the shelter. He would ride around Gauthier looking for stray animals to rescue. Any excuse he could find.
He still remembered the day he heard Malachi Walker complaining in the weight room about having to deal with the stink of the animal shelter because it was where Shayla Kirkland, his assigned tutor, had to tutor him. It was like finding a golden ticket. Despite being a straight-A student, Sawyer purposely failed two math tests so that Coach would sign him up for tutoring.
Three days a week for two months straight, Sawyer would come over to the animal shelter. While Shayla tutored him in mathematical equations that he could complete in his sleep, he’d watch Paxton out of the corner of his eye as she showered the affection he’d wanted from her onto helpless strays. The girl who was always so tough with people had a soft spot when it came to animals.
Sawyer cringed when he thought back to his awkward attempts to get her to talk to him. He’d tried to ask about the different breeds, or engage her in conversation about types of vaccinations, but other than a quick hello, Paxton barely said a word to him.
After the first couple of weeks he’d told himself to forget about her. He didn’t even have to snap his fingers to get a girl to notice him. He was the star quarterback. He always had enough dollars in his pocket for dinner and a movie on Saturday night. And even Sawyer could admit that when he looked in the mirror, the guy staring back at him was pretty easy on the eyes. He had been a damn good catch back in high school.
But none of those things—the looks, the money, the popularity—had made a difference to Paxton. It wasn’t as if she’d played hard to get, either. It was like he’d been invisible to her, like he wasn’t even on her radar.
She may have felt that way about him in high school, but Sawyer knew for a fact that she damn well saw him now. She could no longer ignore him.
Actually, she could. Because, at the moment, all of her attention was focused on the animals. As soon as they entered the shelter, she went straight for a pen that held a litter of puppies. Everything about her seemed to change in an instant. She went from being the hard-core professional back to the girl who used to spend hours here every week taking care of sick and frightened animals.
Sawyer studied the soft look on her face as she got down on the floor in her skirt and cuddled the puppies, taking turns holding each close to her chest.
He propped his shoulder against the wall and casually slid his hands into his pockets. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Where did the love of dogs come from?”
Paxton didn’t so much as glance up at him. She had eyes only for the puppies.
“I just always loved dogs,” she said with a shrug. “It used to drive Belinda crazy every time I would find a stray and bring it home. She used to say she had a hard enough time keeping me fed—she couldn’t keep every stray in Landreaux’s belly full, too. She’s the one who told me to work at the shelter.”
Paxton shook her head as she lovingly petted the mutt’s thick fur. “There’s something about strays that calls to me,” she said. “They’re tough, resilient. They have to be in order to survive.” She looked up at him. “I guess they remind me of me and my mom.”
Sawyer didn’t know what to say to that. He just continued to stare at her, pondering her statement.
A couple of minutes later, the shelter’s director, Webster Detellier, came over to speak with them. His mother, Gina, ran the shelter back when they were in high school, and Webster would often be there with them after school. Sawyer’s jealousy over how well Paxton and Webster got along used to eat him up inside.
It wasn’t until years later that Sawyer discovered his jealousy was unwarranted. He often ran into Webster and his partner, Glenn, every now and then on his evening jogs. They lived a couple of blocks down the street from him.
Still, Sawyer couldn’t deny that seeing her in this setting again had drummed up a cadre of feelings that he hadn’t felt in a while. Longing. Inadequacy. That ridiculous adolescent hopefulness that he would figure out a way to win the girl. Sucking in a deep breath to steady himself against the onslaught of emotions rioting through him, Sawyer approached them.
He greeted Webster, then asked, “Do you know if the shelter had ever had this type of flooding in the past?”
“Sandalwood Drive slopes down toward the creek, so it may get standing water from time to time, but nothing like we got with Lucy,” Webster said. “Oh, by the way, thanks for the donation.”
“You’re welcome,” Sawyer said.
