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Her recent walk through the woods with Rebel had been a huge step in the right direction, but it hadn’t been planned. She’d only done it out of fear for the dogs’ safety, and she wasn’t sure she could convince herself to consciously step off the porch and walk down the road to visit someone’s house.
Veronica clutched the doorframe, her knuckles turning white as she debated with herself. The familiar tendrils of anxiety began to weave their way through her thoughts, constricting her chest and making it difficult to breathe.
Rebel and Alfie finished their business and trotted back toward her, tails wagging eagerly. Their playful energy was infectious, reminding her of the things she loved about life beyond these four walls. She couldn’t let fear dictate her actions any longer.
Rebel nudged against her leg as if urging her to make a decision. Fear coiled in her chest, threatening to paralyze her?—
No.
Dammit.
She could do this.
She sucked in a deep breath, forcing her lungs to open and accept the cool, damp air. Then she scooped up Alfie and, hugging him close, took a small step forward. The familiar creak of the porch boards echoed in the silence, breaking through the fog that clouded her mind.
It was just a short walk down the road.
She could do this.
She focused on the rhythmic thump of her own heartbeat, using it as a metronome to keep her pace steady. With each step, she willed her body to defy the flight instinct. Inside was safer. She should run back and?—
NO.
She was so tired of being afraid all the time.
She hugged Alfie tight, and he laid his head on her shoulder as if hugging her back. His fluffy ear tickled her chin, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Alfie, the psychic dog.
That was what the guys had called him in therapy because he always seemed to know who needed him the most each session.
A weird tug in her chest made her stop moving. Was that... longing? Did she actually miss the guys?
Yes.
Holy shit, yes, she missed them.
She missed Zak with his brash confidence and snarky comments. She missed Pierce with his calm demeanor and unwavering support. She missed Donovan’s booming laugh and Sawyer’s infectious enthusiasm for life. All of them had become like a second family to her, and in their absence, she felt a void that not even her four-legged friends could fill.
And she especially missed Connelly. Her best friend, who had always been there for her, even in her darkest moments. Connelly, who had dropped his life in Seattle to come help her. Connelly, who had slept on her porch every night until she forced him to leave.
She never should have sent him away.
Veronica took a moment to steady herself, leaning against a nearby tree as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. The weight of her past traumas pressed down on her, threatening to crush any progress she had made. But then she felt something warm and wet against her hand. Rebel nudged her palm with her snout, her rust-colored eyes full of concern. She knelt down and pressed her forehead to Rebel’s.
“You’re a good girl, Reby. The best girl.” She smiled through her tears and kissed the top of Rebel’s head.
Rebel wagged her tail, then bounded down the trail toward Connelly’s house.
“Okay. Let’s go.” Gathering her strength, Veronica stood up straight and wiped away her tears. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh scent of blossoming flowers fill her lungs. The sun bathed the world in warm, golden light, casting a gentle glow on everything it touched. It was the type of day that whispered of new beginnings and endless possibilities.
She followed Rebel’s lead to Connelly’s house. Each step was a monumental victory she couldn’t wait to share with him. He was going to be so shocked. And, she hoped, pleased. She laughed, imagining his expression. Her heart raced with anticipation. She couldn’t deny the growing ache deep inside her, the need to reconnect with the person who had always understood her, even when she couldn’t understand herself.
Rebel bounded ahead, tail wagging furiously as if sensing the energy buzzing around Veronica. The old wooden porch creaked beneath Veronica’s weight as she stepped onto it, and memories flooded her mind. She could picture Connelly sitting here, his strong frame sprawled in the Adirondack chair as he typed on his laptop, frantically trying to get the story out of his head as fast as possible.
Veronica reached out and turned the doorknob, praying that it wasn’t locked. The door swung open effortlessly as if welcoming her back into Connelly’s world. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of him. It was a mixture of books, coffee, and something uniquely him— a scent that felt like comfort and homecoming all at once.
She stepped inside, her footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors. “Conn?”
