“Bear, down!” I call out, more amused than commanding.
Bear ignores me completely, making a beeline for Kendry the moment she steps out of the truck. The dog rears up on his hind legs —which put his front paws approximately at her shoulders— and attempts to lick every inch of her face.
“Bear, oh my God, get down!” I’m laughing now, grabbing the dog’s collar and hauling him back. “I warned you. No personal space whatsoever.”
But Kendry is laughing too, her first genuine laugh of the day. Bear’s tail wags so hard his entire back-end wiggles, and his joy is so pure, so uncomplicated, and something seems to loosen in her posture.
“Hi, Bear,” she murmurs, running her hands through his thick golden coat. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Such a good boy.”
Bear’s response is to flop onto his back in the snow, exposing his belly for rubs.
“Traitor,” I say, with a grin and shake of my head. “He’s known you five seconds and he already loves you more than me.”
“I’m very lovable,” Kendry says, then immediately cringes.
Yes, you are.
I cross my arms. “I’m starting to see that.”
The moment stretches between us, but Bear breaks it by rolling to his feet and shaking snow all over both of us.
I open the back door of the truck and lift Merry out. She’s about half the size of Bear, but she wiggles like she can hold her own.
“Should I put her down?” I ask, spinning while Bear basically chases her tail.
“Yeah, she’s friendly to other dogs and I bet she’ll love to stretch her legs.”
I set her to the ground and instantly she and Bear are running circles around the truck, bowing and prancing like they’ve know each other for their whole lives.
“Okay, you two, let’s go inside.” I wrap an arm around Kendry’s shoulder and guide her along with me.
Inside, the cabin is an open floor plan with a stone fireplace that takes up one entire wall. The leather furniture is well-loved with a variety of dog claw marks, but just part of the deal for having a dog that’s part Tasmanian Devil. The kitchen is butcher block counters and copper pots hanging from hooks. Everything is clean but lived-in, and it’s all mine.
And it smells incredible, if I do say so myself and I watch Kendry lick her lips.
“God, that smells good.”
“That’s the chili,” I say, catching her expression. “Been simmering since this afternoon. Make yourself comfortable— I’ll get it on the table.”
She sheds my borrowed jacket —which I forgot she had kept— and wanders to the fireplace. Framed photographs line the mantel. Most me with my buddies in firefighting gear, standing in front of engines or helicopters, arms slung around each other’s shoulders with the easy camaraderie of people who trust each other with their lives.
But she stops in front of one picture. Me with a woman and two teenage kids, all of us beaming at the camera. We stand in front of this very cabin, but it was newer then, the logs still golden. I know what she’s thinking. Wife and kids?
“That first one is my crew,” I relay from the kitchen, and Kendry looks back, realizing I was watching her. “The people I work with every season.”
“You look happy in these,” she observes.
“I am. They’re family.” I ladle chili into bowls. “The other photo— that’s my sister Rachel, her ex-husband Mike, and their kids Emma and Josh. That was taken the summer after I finished the cabin.They visit every July. Even though they’re divorced, they co-parent where the kids stay in the house and they go back and forth to an apartment.”
“That’s cool.”
“I’d like her to find someone again but I wonder what that would do to the family arrangement and if it would mess the good thing they have going.”
“Can I ask… how are you still single? Calder, I don’t think it’s hard to say that you’re kind of a catch.”
I still, my back to the living room. Honesty. If I expect it from her, she deserves it from me. I turn slowly and carry the bowls to the table. I motion for her to take a seat.
“When I was a senior in high school, my girlfriend lived across the street. One night, I heard something and looked out the window to see her house on fire. I yelled at my parents to call for help, but I knew I had to go in. The animals were waiting by the door and they got out, but…”
