Ivy steps closer, slow and careful, making something in my chest pull tight. “Hi,” she says in a low voice, like she doesn’t want to scare him.
The puppy’s ears twitch. His tail gives a hesitant wag, then another.
“That’s a good sign,” I murmur.
Ivy glances at me, hopeful. “Can I…?”
“Go ahead.”
She kneels, reaching her hand out just enough to let him come to her instead of the other way around. It takes a second, then two, and then he steps forward, his nose brushing her fingers.
Her face lights up.
“Oh,” she breathes. “He’s so little.”
“Yeah,” I say. “He is.”
She looks up at me, eyes wide. “Can we keep him here? Just for a little bit?”
My mouth opens, then closes again, because I know exactly what she’s asking… don’t let him go yet.
I glance over her head, catching Jules watching me with a look that saysyou’re about to do something you can’t take back.
He’s not wrong.
I look back at Ivy and the way she’s already inching closer, giving that puppy a place to feel safe.
“Alright,” I say quietly. “We’ll hold off on listing him for a few days.”
Her whole face brightens. “Really?”
“Really.”
She beams, turning back to the puppy like the world just gave her exactly what she wanted.
Jules leans in close to me, his voice low. “You’re gonna get attached.”
“I already am,” I murmur back.
He glances at me, then past me toward Ivy, one brow lifting slightly. “Yeah. Not to the dog.”
I don’t answer, just glance back at Ivy, because he’s right, and I did it anyway.
4
ALEXEI
The meeting runs seven minutes long. Not because anyone has anything new to say, but because no one wants to be the one who ends it while I sit there, hands loosely folded on the conference table, watching each of them as they circle the same numbers from three angles.
The room smells faintly of stale coffee and polished wood reflecting the afternoon light through the glass wall. Outside, cars feed into traffic patterns I could map without looking. Inside, the air feels tighter, every man at the table waiting for a signal that never comes.
I tap once against the folder in front of me enough to cut through the last sentence one of them is finishing.
“That will be enough,” I say, closing the folder in front of me.
Silence follows as the room goes still. They nod, one after the other, gathering their papers, chairs sliding back as they quietly file out of the room. No one rushes or lingers. They understand how this works.
I remain seated until the door closes behind the last of them, then lean back, my attention turning to the skyline beyond the glass. The numbers are solid. The expansion will hold. The route in Charleston will give us the coverage we need without drawing attention where it doesn’t belong.
