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“You should eat.” He takes the sandwich wrapped in wax paper out and hands it to me. I can’t even think about food right now. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, I’m afraid it won’t stay down.
“I can’t, Shane.” He doesn’t press, tossing the sandwich back in the bag.
“I’m sorry about Pepper.”
Tears well in my eyes at his sudden sincere sympathy. This time they spill over. I brush them away with a knuckle and nod.
“Why do you do this? All the time you dedicate to these animals…”
I don’t even have to think about my answer.
“I love them.” I reach out to pet Hazel. She sways and makes a helpless sound. “They need me… I have purpose here.” The silence that follows is rich and dense and meaningful. There’s an unspoken understanding in Shane’s eyes. I don’t know this man. I don’t know what he’s experienced in life, but I know that he understands me.
“It scares me that I won’t be able to fix them. That I don’t have the power to make them whole again… I don’t want to fail them.”
He’s watching me so intensely that if I wasn’t completely wrecked, it would make me nervous. Good thing I’m completely wrecked.
“I have my days, too, when everything seems to be working against us and I feel like I’m drowning and it’s time to walk away. But then I get a comment like this…”
I open the screen of my phone and click on the IG app. The most recent picture of Legend, who’s doing remarkably well with his recovery, pops up. Then I go to the direct messages, and quietly read, “Hi Mother Goose Rescue. I’m eleven and immunocompromised. Which means I’m homeschooled and don’t have any friends my age that aren’t in my exact same situation. It sucks. I just wanna tell you that I check your pictures every day. I love to see the animals you save. Pumpkin Spice and Hazel were my favorites, but I have a new favorite now: Legend. Because…” My voice cracks and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying. Exhaling, I start again, “Because he never gave up. Even when he almost died when his owner stopped feeding him. Whenever I have a bad day and want to give up, I think of Legend. If he can get better, maybe I can, too.” I put the phone down. “That’s why I do it.”
We sit quietly in each other’s company until Hazel gets restless and starts making noises again.
“Wait here,” Shane says and gets up. I watch his perfect round ass with the dents on the side walk out of the stall and disappear into the dimly-lit barn aisle.
A few minutes later, he returns with an acoustic guitar under his arm. Taking his place back on the stall floor, he cradles the guitar under his arm, leans over it, and begins softly picking strings. The tune sounds Spanish, the perfect sound to soothe an aching heart.
The music starts working its magic and Hazel takes a few steps closer to nuzzle Shane’s scruffy cheek. Shane looks up, our eyes meet, and his lips curve up softly.
Right here––see this moment? This is the moment I died. Write my obituary because I just died of lust for a man playing guitar to a heartbroken miniature donkey.
Hazel walks over to me and finally lays down. Cuddled against my leg, she lays her head on my lap and I pet her gently. She closes her eyes and sighs and the ugly tears I was hoping to save for later, to shed in the privacy of my room, fall down my cheeks. In minutes, I’m going to look like a bruised tomato in front of my dirty fantasy man and there’s nothing I can do about it. If you’ve ever seen a bruised tomato, you understand.
Shane puts the guitar down and slides his big hard body against mine. He throws an arm around my shoulders and I stiffen. It’s an automatic reaction. Not because I don’t want to melt into him, shove my nose into his clean pits, and inhale him like he’s coke and it’s the 80s again. Because I do want to do that with every fiber of my body.
It’s because I don’t trust myself to not fall for him hard. And when I say fall, I mean in love for all the wrong reasons. He’s just that tempting. And with my track record, it would turn into a disaster. I need to stay away from any man that elicits this degree of reaction from me and go after the solid citizens… like Tom.
“Don’t worry, I won’t think you’re hitting on me,” he says in that deep raspy voice of his, the sound vibrating in his chest and sending sparks to every part me where we touch.
