Direct quote.
He snatched that poor yowling thing right out of my hands, threw open the front door, and tossed it outside. Reared his arm back, the kitten clutched like a ball in his hand, and then threw it with all his might. I heard the kitten make this weird screaming noise as it hit the sidewalk and I started to cry. I was eight.
I never tried to bring an animal into our house again.
Taking a deep breath, I glance over my shoulder at the shelter employee. “I’ll take her.”
He nods and smiles. “She’s had most of her shots, so she can go home with you today if you wish. Unless you need a few days to prepare for her arrival—get your place pet ready.”
“I can take her home now,” I say, looking back down at Molly’s face. I swear she’s smiling at me. I can feel Katie watching me, too, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Whether she regrets coming with me today and helping me pick out my dog. “I can’t leave without her,” I say to Molly.
But I’m saying it to Katie, too.
It’s been a long, exhausting, crazy day, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Ethan and I didn’t talk about our past, our troubles, his deceit, my anger—none of it. Instead, we acted like two regular people—two friends—who made Saturday plans together to find him a dog.
And we did. After choosing Molly and going through what felt like endless paperwork, Ethan paid for his new dog and we left the shelter with her walking in between us on the very short leash the shelter provided. She kept jerking hard against it, her feet scrambling so much she nearly tripped. Like she was trying her hardest to break free, and I could relate to her.
I was always yearning to break free from myself throughout the years. I just couldn’t ever figure out how to do it.
After we loaded up Molly in the backseat of Ethan’s car, we went and grabbed a quick lunch, sitting outside a local hamburger spot—both of us feeding Molly fries, though Ethan insisted this was a one-shot deal—before we ended up at a chain pet store. Where Ethan proceeded to load up an entire cart with everything his new pet could ever want or need.
Molly is going to end up one spoiled dog.
On the drive back to my place, with the sun slowly sinking into the ocean and Molly still with us, curled up sleeping in the center of the backseat, I marvel at how easy our day had been. How we got along so well, laughed together, made decisions together. There was never any tension, no arguments, no uncomfortable silences. It was . . . nice.
When we’d first started seeing each other, there was always this whisper of nervousness running through me, and I couldn’t shake it. I’d never been interested in a man before, and spending time with Ethan made me feel unsure. He seemed a little on edge, too. Always on his best behavior, treating me as if I were a delicate little flower he didn’t want to bruise or break.
Today, there was none of that. We finally seemed to find that comfort level we were always searching for but could never quite capture. Is that because Ethan’s not hiding from me anymore? Because I know he’s Will and so I feel more at ease with him?
I don’t know. I’d love to discuss it with him, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. So I keep the thoughts to myself.
“Do you regret not leaving her at your house?” I ask. The radio’s playing softly and I can hear an occasional snort come from Molly in the backseat. Otherwise it’s quiet, the late afternoon darkening at a rapid pace, lulling me, making me sleepy. My eyelids are heavy and I have to fight to keep them open.
“Nah. What was I going to do? Leave her locked up in my house so she could potentially tear everything to shreds? I couldn’t put her in my backyard, because what if she broke free and ran away? I’d never forgive myself. And I wasn’t about to tie her up.” Ethan glances in the rearview mirror and I know he’s looking at his dog. “She’s happy back there. I’m glad she’s with us.”
I like how he said us. “I wish I could be there when you set up all of her new stuff,” I murmur.
He laughs, the sound soft and warm, a little rusty. I like making him laugh. I know he doesn’t do it nearly enough. “It’s going to be an early Christmas for Molly this year.”
We’re quiet for a moment before Ethan speaks again.
“You should come over tomorrow and hang out with us. I’ll be in full-on training mode by then, I’m guessing.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my chest aching at his request. He’s so sweet, but . . . “I don’t want to intrude.”
He makes a noise. “Please. Intrude on what? Me and my dog? I think I’ll need you to help us out. She might be driving me insane by the time you show up.”
“I could bring the doughnuts,” I suggest with a little smile.
“You still have plenty,” he says wryly.
We both lapse into silence once more, and I stare out the window unseeingly before I slowly close my eyes. It’s warm in Ethan’s car. I swear I hear Molly snoring, and Ethan taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music coming from the radio. His scent lingers in the air, spicy and clean, and I take a deep breath, enjoying the moment.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more content.
“I want to thank you for today,” Ethan says a few minutes later, his deep voice startling me awake. Not that I was actually asleep, though I was definitely drifting.
My eyes pop open and I swivel my head to look at him. “Thank you for taking me with you.”