“He was so small, like really small, and his ears don’t match yet, like one goes this way and one goes that way,” she says, turning toward me, her words coming out quickly. “And he didn’t come out at first, but then he did, and Maggie said that’s a good sign, and Jules said he’s dramatic, but he’s not, he’s just nervous, and Daisy would like him, I think, because he’s not loud?—”
I glance at her and nod once. “Mm.”
“And they have a room with all the puppies, but he’s not in there yet because he just got there, and Maggie said we have to go slow, and I did, I didn’t even reach in right away?—”
“That’s good,solnyshko.”
She keeps going, her hands moving as she talks.
Maggie’s name comes out of Ivy’s mouth again, and my body reacts instantly, a low, hard pull that I clamp down on immediately, my hand flattening against my thigh, fingers pressing once, hard enough to pin it in place.
I keep my eyes forward.
Ivy keeps talking beside me, her enthusiasm filling the space while I hold the line.
The shelter comes into view a few minutes later, set back from the road with a lot holding more cars than it should. There’s no order to how they’re parked, no clean lines or structure that holds from one day to the next. It functions anyway.
The car stops, and I step out, moving to open the door before the driver reaches it. Ivy is already halfway out, her shoes hitting the pavement with a quick, light sound before she looks back at me.
“I remember,” she says, before I speak. “Ask first. Be gentle.”
I nod once. “Good.”
She turns toward the building, her pace quick but controlled, her hand brushing mine for a second before she pulls away, already focused on what’s waiting inside.
I follow.
The door opens, and I see her immediately. Maggie is crouched near one of the kennels, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, one hand resting against the metal while the other stays loose at her side. Her hair is pulled back again, though it has already started to come loose, strands falling around her face, unnoticed.
“Hey, Maggie!” Ivy calls out.
“Well, hey,” she says, pushing up to stand, but not as casually as she wants to appear. A faint flush rises in her cheeks as her eyes stay on me a second longer before focusing on Ivy. “Don’tyou look pretty as a peach today. And look who you brought with you.”
There’s a brief pause, not quite surprise, more like an awareness that wasn’t there before.
“Yes,” I say, my attention still on her. “She’s been asking about the puppy.”
Ivy moves past me before the last word leaves my mouth, crossing the space and dropping near the kennel like she’s done this a dozen times, her familiarity earned over the last two weeks.
“I missed you,” she says, her voice softening as she leans closer, her hand hovering just outside the kennel.
The puppy inches forward, small and uncertain, his ears twitching before his tail gives a hesitant wag.
Maggie lowers again, her attention turning to Ivy without losing track of me entirely. “I think he missed you, too, sugar,” she says, her voice dipping just enough to let the warmth come through. “You made quite the impression on him.”
Jules appears next to her, his presence easy but deliberate, his eyes landing on me with a look that takes everything in without asking permission.
“Well,” he says, lifting his cup before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “If it isn’t dog treat man, back for round two.”
Maggie exhales under her breath, the sound quiet but pointed as her shoulder bumps lightly against his knee.
“Don’t you start,” she mutters, not looking at him.
“I’m just observin’,” he replies, his tone light, but his attention fixed on me.
I let it sit, giving him nothing.
Maggie reaches into the kennel, carefully lifting the puppy before bringing him close, her hand adjusting beneath him before she passes him to Ivy.
