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"Listen, I'm wearing a mask. Nobody will see if my nose is running or my cheeks are red."

"Okay, but they will see you coughing and blacking out when it gets too much." He reaches over the table, grabs my wrist, and pulls my ice cream over to his side of the table to try it.

"Hey," I protest weakly, but his grip on my wrist is too firm for me to pull my hand out of.

"See?" he points out, some of my ice cream gracing his upper lip, and moves my weak arm from left to right. "If you were feeling your best, there's no way you would have let me do that."

"I hate it when you're right." I press my lips together. Once he lets go, I reach for the whipped cream and hold the cup under the table for Dick to feast on.

"You should listen to me for once, Kieran. Go home."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't want to hang out with me." I pout. "But yes, Dad. I will finish my ice cream and will be home by curfew."

"That's my boy," Evan jokes and lets go of my arm. “And for the record, I do enjoy hanging out with you. When you’re not a wandering germ pool.”

Ugh.

I hate it when he's got a point.

Chapter 20

Brooke

Snowflakes hit my windshield faster than my wipers can clear it as I’m on my way to Wayward Hollow. The road is disappearing under a thick blanket of snow, and I’m glad I know most of the way almost better than the back of my hand.

Both Hannah's and Evan's words dug their way deeper and deeper into my mind.

They’re right. As many hours as I’m pouring into the shelter, my focus is very much the animals and not kissing asses or making much of an effort to receive donations from people who Mrs. Bernard or I don’t know personally.

Once the realization settled and stopped stinging, I spent an entire afternoon browsing the internet to compare how other shelters were finding donors.

As it turns out, social media is the way to go.

Even Maya's shelter has a social media page with pretty good views. Whether she makes videos in which she introduces her dogs, shares their shenanigans and quirks, or tells their heartbreaking backstory to the camera, the support is there.

And I know one person who's apparently great at social media.

So now I'm on my way to Kieran’s house with my laptop on the passenger seat and Rose in the back. She was clingy today, so I decided to take her along, while the rest of the gang decided it’s a nice day to sleep.

If I get stranded in this snow, Rose will make a great heat source at least.

We make it without sliding on the ice or the front hood of my car deciding to have an intimate encounter with a tree, and before I know it, the car slithers to a stop in his driveway.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, staring at his garage, only centimeters away from the hood of my car. I almost celebrated too early.

I lean over the dashboard and stare at his house. All the windows are dark.

Fuck.

What if he's not in?

Maybe I should've messaged him I’d be coming over after all instead of turning up here, unasked but with takeout, but -

Well, he could also be watching a movie in the dark. The only way I’ll know is by ringing the damn doorbell.

So I grab the takeout bags from the passenger seat, climb out of my car, and let Rose out. I keep my hand on her back, a little support so I’ll stay upright as we make our slippery way to his door, where I ring the bell.

No answer. Maybe he’s asleep?