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When my fingers grazed the mold of Ash's paw, pain and anger stabbed at my chest. Trauma had a way of bringing people—and animals—together. We’d gone through the same fire. That gave us a connection very few could understand.
But I’d never expected she wouldn’t eat because of me.
When had anyone ever cared enough to stop eating because I wasn’t around?
The only person who might’ve come close was my mother. I hadn’t been able to keep anything down after she’d died. Grief and horror had nearly overtaken me . . . and I’d only been five.
Beau and Lincoln hadn’t taken it well either. Maybe that was why the three of us were so close. The shared loss.
I had no doubt they’d be upset if something ever happened to me, but seeing Ash strain to get to me and the way she’d jumped all over me once she did . . . I’d never known a feeling like that.
It was one I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around.
That sense of being needed . . . I realized I’d been missing that.
Which was crazy. I had the guys at the firehouse. I had my family. It wasn’t like I was lonely and isolated.
Nevertheless, I’d never forget that bittersweet moment.
And Pepper.
Her reception had been more reserved. Truthfully, I’d been stunned to see her. Miss Adeline had called the station, and I hadn’t been able to say no when she told me Ash wasn’t eating, consequences be damned.
There’d been so many things I’d wanted to say to Pepper. But I hadn’t been able to think of a damn one of them. Even underneath the veil of worry, she’d been as beautiful as ever.
I was sure contacting me had been a last resort. Yet I admired how in tune she was with the dogs. How she’d put together Ash wasn’t eating because of me was incredible. Only someone who loved those animals would be able to do that.
The entire scene hadn’t lasted long, but I’d been drained when I left. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically.
Seeing those two had been a jolt of energy and the ultimate crash when I’d left them. I wanted to call Pepper to see how Ash was doing—howshewas doing. But I wouldn’t push my luck.
Knock. Knock.
My sister stood in the partially opened doorway to my room, looking as drained as I felt.
“What happened to you?” She made herself at home and sat on the bed.
“I could ask you the same.” I reached behind me and pulled off my sweater and undershirt.
I rifled through my bag until I found a fresh T-shirt.
“Please don’t change your pants in front of me,” she groaned.
“You’re the one who barged in my room.”
“Remind me not to do that again.” She collapsed sideways onto the mattress.
“Lincoln home?”
“I don’t think so. But I haven’t seen him all day. Dad’s had me shadowing him like I’m his personal assistant.” Her head lolled to the side.
I sat in the corner chair. “You never did take orders well.”
“Like you did either,” she shot back and then sighed. “I’ve been with that man for twelve hours and the only thing I learned is I put too much sugar in his coffee.”
I could barely spend twelve minutes with him. How she’d withstood that long was a testament to her strength.
“What were you expecting to find out?” I yanked off my boots and tossed them to the side.
