They hadn’t sorted themselves for Reid.
I was pushing the thought away just as I got a text message from Isaac Baxter.Shit. I should’ve told him I’d decided not to stay at Warrior Security.
Hey, Fuckface. Heard you ditched WS.
Guess the news had already traveled.
I stared down at my phone. Isaac, out of anyone, would understand the delicacy of the situation. He, Reid, and I had all served together in the Army. Isaac knew the whole story, and I knew he would be willing to talk it out with me at any time.
But what good would braiding each other’s hair and spilling our guts do? Reid would still be dead.
Yeah, asshole. Decided it wasn’t a good fit. Sorry. Should’ve told you.
Well, you’re obviously a dumbass. Interested in coming to work for Zodiac? That offer is still open too.
I hadn’t been lying to Hunter when I’d said big cities weren’t for me. Way too many triggers.
No fucking way. I’ve seen the people Zodiac hires.
The best of the best. And Isaac was one of them.
You okay?
Yeah. Working as a glorified ranch hand/pet sitter at someplace called Pawsitive Connections. They do rescues and service animals and shit. Keeps me busy.
There was a long pause before Isaac responded. I thought maybe I’d lost him, which happened. Neither of us was ever offended to lose the other in the middle of a conversation. We just picked it back up a couple weeks later.
Service animals, huh? Cool. Some things have changed for me, man. I’ve got to get you caught up.
Bad? Good?
Good. Fucking great, actually. I’m at the fishing cabin and am going to be here a while recuperating. Got into a little…scuffle.
Oh shit.
Type of scuffle that requires hospitalization?
You know me too well.
Let me know if you need anything.
Although I doubted he would need anything. Thefishing cabinhe was talking aboutwas a million-dollar second home. Isaac and his family had more money than God, although he’d walked away from it to join the Army and then Zodiac.
Will do, brother. Go pet some animals for me.
I gave him the middle-finger emoji then put my phone away and turned back to the kennels.
Dobby shoved his nose through the kennel bars while his food soaked. He leaned into the door with his full weight, trying to push closer, and I let him. I didn’t pet him, but I didn’t pull away.
The physical work here definitely suited me. Hauling feed, resetting fence posts, patching boards, cleaning stalls. Structure had always been the thing that held me upright, and Pawsitive gave me enough of it to fill a day. The cabin was clean. My clothes were folded in the dresser, boots by the door. I ate at regular times. Worked on a list that had an order to it.
The part I couldn’t square was how Lark had been managing any of this alone.
I’d been here a full week doing the physical labor, and my task list hadn’t gotten shorter. Every repair uncovered two more behind it. The north fence posts were set. I’d rehung the east pasture gate. But the barn siding needed replacing in three sections, the equipment shed had a roof leak, and I’d found rot in the base of two paddock rails that meant pulling entire posts.
That was just the manual work, the stuff she’d hired me for. On top of it, she had the animal training, the placement coordination, the vet schedules, the paperwork. She’d mentioned having short-term help over the years, friends who’dcome through and moved on, but mostly, it had been her. One person on forty acres with this many animals and this much need.
No wonder the fence posts had been leaning and the barn siding was going soft. How could there be time for her to fix these things when she didn’t have any leftover seconds doing the day-to-day stuff?
