has even completely left his lips, the dog’s butt hits the ground. His tail’s wagging so hard it’s thumping against the dirt, drawing dust up into the air, and he watches as Ash pulls out a single large chip and holds it out to him, telling the dog to
wait.
Bruiser looks between Ash’s face and the proffered chip over and over again, and I laugh at the look on his face. Half obedience, half betrayal, and one hundred percent
Seriously? You’re making me do this right now?
But he doesn’t make a move toward it. He barely even breathes.
Finally, after long seconds have passed, Ash says “okay,” and the dog darts forward and snaps the chip up. The animated crunching that follows is honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and something inside of me is torn between laughing and
melting
at the sight.
“Nope,” he says, smiling at me as Bruiser licks his chops and starts rooting around, looking for more treats. Ash just looks down and shakes his head at the dog, grinning, until Bruiser finally gives up and makes his way over to me instead. I’m lost in that moment, that instant of us together in my mother’s backyard, sitting by the fire. Because in those long, drawn-out heartbeats, the sight of Ash’s smile by the light of the fire is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “He’s definitely my dog.” He rubs the back of his neck before sinking back down into his seat. “I mean, fuck. He’s kinda skinny and he’s got more gray fur than I remember, but it’s definitely him. It’s Bruiser.”
I shove down the warmth that’s spreading through my chest, and lean forward. “So,” I say, reaching out to run a tentative hand down the dog’s back. I’m trying to picture a bigger, heartier version of the dog in front of me, and honestly it’s kind of terrifying. I feel like the dog’s going to turn on me at any moment and snap my fingers off. Just because he seems to adore Ash, doesn’t mean he’ll put up with me touching him. But Bruiser dashes my fears in about two seconds, as he leans into my hand, squirming, pressing closer, so I continue. “Not dangerous, then.”
“Not at all,” Ash says, and then reaches out his left hand to me, pinkie out. “I promise.” I bite my lip and reach out to link my finger with his.
And while we’re mid pinkie-swear, Bruiser sees his opportunity and makes off with the rest of my sandwich.
Chapter 8
Star
I ’m settled on the porch steps the next morning, a paper cup of coffee clutched between my hands. It’s absolutely boiling—and for once worthy of the
Caution:
Hot label on the side—but I didn’t sleep well last night. I was too busy trying to figure out a plan and how to set it into motion, and as a result I ended up getting maybe four hours of sleep.
Maybe.
At this point I need the coffee like I need to live. And even though I was barely awake, Ash was already hard at work when I arrived, and I’m glad that he’s finally gotten comfortable enough to just do his own thing.
Progress.
He’s puttering around, hauling stuff out to the Dumpster, and at first I think it’s just the heat, but after watching him for a few minutes as I wait for my coffee to cool, I realize that what I’m seeing isn’t just my imagination. Ash is sunburned.
“You know,” I say, trying to force down my smile before it gives me away. “You’re looking a little red about the edges, there.” My smile breaks free and Ash turns even redder at my words. I can’t help it if the guy looks cute with a little pink in his cheeks. He’s more approachable that way, somehow.
“Ugh, I know,” Ash mutters, scrubbing at his ever-so-slightly sunburned neck. “Curse of the blonds. I was always getting burnt when I was a kid. I was kind of hoping I’d grow out of it.”
“I don’t think it’s something you really grow out of,” I tell him, and dig into my purse and pull out a tube of sunblock. “Here.” I toss it to him when he turns around. He looks down
wait.
Bruiser looks between Ash’s face and the proffered chip over and over again, and I laugh at the look on his face. Half obedience, half betrayal, and one hundred percent
Seriously? You’re making me do this right now?
But he doesn’t make a move toward it. He barely even breathes.
Finally, after long seconds have passed, Ash says “okay,” and the dog darts forward and snaps the chip up. The animated crunching that follows is honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and something inside of me is torn between laughing and
melting
at the sight.
“Nope,” he says, smiling at me as Bruiser licks his chops and starts rooting around, looking for more treats. Ash just looks down and shakes his head at the dog, grinning, until Bruiser finally gives up and makes his way over to me instead. I’m lost in that moment, that instant of us together in my mother’s backyard, sitting by the fire. Because in those long, drawn-out heartbeats, the sight of Ash’s smile by the light of the fire is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “He’s definitely my dog.” He rubs the back of his neck before sinking back down into his seat. “I mean, fuck. He’s kinda skinny and he’s got more gray fur than I remember, but it’s definitely him. It’s Bruiser.”
I shove down the warmth that’s spreading through my chest, and lean forward. “So,” I say, reaching out to run a tentative hand down the dog’s back. I’m trying to picture a bigger, heartier version of the dog in front of me, and honestly it’s kind of terrifying. I feel like the dog’s going to turn on me at any moment and snap my fingers off. Just because he seems to adore Ash, doesn’t mean he’ll put up with me touching him. But Bruiser dashes my fears in about two seconds, as he leans into my hand, squirming, pressing closer, so I continue. “Not dangerous, then.”
“Not at all,” Ash says, and then reaches out his left hand to me, pinkie out. “I promise.” I bite my lip and reach out to link my finger with his.
And while we’re mid pinkie-swear, Bruiser sees his opportunity and makes off with the rest of my sandwich.
Chapter 8
Star
I ’m settled on the porch steps the next morning, a paper cup of coffee clutched between my hands. It’s absolutely boiling—and for once worthy of the
Caution:
Hot label on the side—but I didn’t sleep well last night. I was too busy trying to figure out a plan and how to set it into motion, and as a result I ended up getting maybe four hours of sleep.
Maybe.
At this point I need the coffee like I need to live. And even though I was barely awake, Ash was already hard at work when I arrived, and I’m glad that he’s finally gotten comfortable enough to just do his own thing.
Progress.
He’s puttering around, hauling stuff out to the Dumpster, and at first I think it’s just the heat, but after watching him for a few minutes as I wait for my coffee to cool, I realize that what I’m seeing isn’t just my imagination. Ash is sunburned.
“You know,” I say, trying to force down my smile before it gives me away. “You’re looking a little red about the edges, there.” My smile breaks free and Ash turns even redder at my words. I can’t help it if the guy looks cute with a little pink in his cheeks. He’s more approachable that way, somehow.
“Ugh, I know,” Ash mutters, scrubbing at his ever-so-slightly sunburned neck. “Curse of the blonds. I was always getting burnt when I was a kid. I was kind of hoping I’d grow out of it.”
“I don’t think it’s something you really grow out of,” I tell him, and dig into my purse and pull out a tube of sunblock. “Here.” I toss it to him when he turns around. He looks down
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