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“Of course they can’t follow simple instructions,” Holden mutters. “I’ll text you, Cas.”
He takes a step in my direction, then glances at Eileen and heads toward the hallway instead.
I sort of want to punch myself in the face. Talk about not appreciating a gesture.
“Holden!”
He turns as I half-jog toward him.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “This means a lot.”
He smiles, a full, beautiful one that sets off a flock of butterflies in my stomach.
“You’re welcome, flower.”
I glance at Eileen. She’s migrated to the far corner of the room, sorting through the pile of leashes that get tangled no matter how many hooks we hang up. Purposefully giving us some privacy.
I rise up on my tiptoes to kiss him. It’s soft and sweet, reminding me of our first one back in middle school. Right now, he’s the boy who begged his dad to adopt a puppy because he knew my parents wouldn’t let me have a pet of my own. Who named her after a flower.
The guy I thought I wanted. When he changed in high school—hardened, darkened—I thought we would never share a sweet moment again.
But I wouldn’t change a thing about him.
Holden smiles as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear; another perfect one. He kisses my temple, then steps away. “I’ll see you later.”
I nod and smile, watching until he disappears into the lobby. Distantly, I hear him call, “Does this look like the back of the building to you guys?”
I laugh under my breath, then turn back to the first cage that needs to be cleaned.
“You picked a good one,” Eileen repeats, passing by with a handful of leashes. She’s smiling, which is a relief to see. Lately, she’s seemed extra weighted.
This shelter is a lot to manage, and she doesn’t have any help aside from me and occasionally Jackie.
I know Holden arranged this for me, but it will have a big impact elsewhere too.
“Yeah. I did,” I agree.
I survey the huge pile of clothes on my bed, wondering how I managed to fit all this into two suitcases last year. My room looks like a tornado blew through recently.
“Cassia!” My mom’s voice calls from downstairs.
I got home from work a half hour ago. Showered and put on a clean version of what I wore all day—athletic shorts and a t-shirt—then started on what I should have done a while ago: packing.
I’ve put it off longer than I should have, apprehensive about returning to campus because of where things stood with Holden. Just not in the mood to deal with any of it.
Sunday was supposed to be my packing day, but Holden was here for dinner, and I was too tired from the camping trip to do much of anything after he left. Yesterday was spent at the animal shelter, just like today. Last night I made the piles I’m currently staring at. Now I’m rapidly running out of time to actually pack.
I leave for Richmond on Thursday.
“Be right there,” I shout back.
I grab an empty water glass off my dresser and then head down the hallway, dodging the piles of Legos scattered across the runner.
I pause at the top of the stairs, stunned.
“Sydney?”
My best friend turns from her conversation with my mom in the entryway, a wide smile breaking across her face.
