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“I hope you’re ready to meet her, boy,” Sam says, stopping at a large tree and resting his hand against it. “I know you’re going to love her. I bet you can smell her already, can’t you?”
Jackal knows his human wants him to comprehend something. It’s in the shape of his voice. It’s in the smell, the curve to his mouth, and the subtle shift in his eyes. Jackal is very good at reading his human, but he’s unsure what this means.
He turns and looks across the long lawn that leads to their new human house. It’s large and surrounded by fields, with this sensational woods and lake behind it, so much roaming to do.
Since the female human—more love swelled when Jackal thought of her—started getting bigger, they’ve been spending more time here. Other humans come into the house, hacking at walls, installing new walls, rubbing the walls and the floors, all while Jackal watches, protecting.
He’s keen to get home. The female human’s belly is getting quite round. There’s something in there. Jackal is sure of it. He can smell it, a life of some sort. He can hear a heartbeat. He’s not sure the human female knows, but he doesn’t want her to be surprised.
He whines, pawing at the earth.
“Do you want to check on Mommy?”
Mommy. Katy. He knows who Sam is talking about. He whines again.
“Scent, boy.”
Scent. That means there’s something in the air. He tips his nose.
“The wind should be in just the right direction.”
He filters through the scents, breathing heavily until he finds it. It’s the scent connected to the life—the heartbeat in Mommy Katy’s belly. He whines and springs up, ready to run.
“Wait a second. Be patient. Good boy.”
Good boy is a balm to every ache and pain a doggie could have. Jackal sits, though he’s still keen. His human removes the plastic-smelling rectangle and jabs at it with his fingers. He’s usually a very effective human, but he couldn’t seem to succeed in breaking this object, no matter how hard he tried.
“Okay, boy, go.”
Jackal is off. Go is the best word Sam ever says to him, and Jackal feels pride as he bounds across the green, knowing his human is watching, knowing he’s happy. He jumps through the dog door and then sniffs down the hallway, the smell getting stronger and overpowering.
“Easy, boy.” The female human appears. Something is different. Jackal wags his tail. She’s all teeth. Good teeth. Not predator teeth. That thing humans do when there are treats and laughs and hugs and loves and action on the way. “Be gentle now, okay?”
She murmurs in that low voice, so Jackal slinks to the floor and walks slowly toward her. She shows more loving teeth, and then love flows through him when she strokes him. He gets lost in the ease, time doing funny things until the male human is suddenly there.
“He looks relaxed.”
“I think he’s ready to meet her.”
More stroking. Jackal has never felt so special. “I’d say you’re right. At my side, boy.”
Jackal is very good at this, sticking to his human’s hip. He leads him into the main room, where the big shiny box is, and over to the place Jackal rarely jumps up on. It’s a human place. Sometimes, he’ll cuddle with Mommy, and it’s just perfect.
“Meet Lila,” Sam says, kneeling down with a beautiful-smelling human bundle in his arms.
Jackal wants to bark, but the human looks soft. Delicate. Instead, he leans forward slowly, nuzzles a tiny hand with his nose, and feels love connecting them immediately. He’s right, isn’t he? It’s the same scent as the belly! That’s why Mommy looks different!
Jackal whines with pure love. He gently licks the human’s fingers, tasting their sweat, their skin, bonding to them for life, this little precious thing. He’d keep his humans safe, all three of them, always.
“Good boy,” Sam says, his voice all choked up.
“Oh, good boy, Jackal,” Mommy says, and Jackal closes his eyes, resting his chin against the human’s little body.
EPILOGUE
THREE YEARS LATER
Katy
I sit in the restaurant, sipping my glass of juice. Since it’s my and Sam’s wedding anniversary, I’d normally be having champagne, but we found out two days ago that I’m pregnant again. It was the best anniversary gift either of us could’ve hoped for.
Sitting here alone—Sam hasn’t arrived yet—I think about the woman I was before. She would’ve freaked at the idea of waiting in a busy restaurant alone. It’s bustling tonight. The woman I was before would’ve wondered if people were looking at her, judging. However, knowing that Sam would never stand me up—knowing there has to be a reasonable explanation because Sam isn’t like that—I can sit here without shame.
When my phone vibrates, a smile spreads across my face. Texting always brings me back to our early days before we met in person and before I knew that being together physically was so much sweeter. Hell, this was even before I knew Sam was the man he said he was.
