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“Okay,” I responded, my voice low. I was afraid to speak too loudly, afraid I’d say something I couldn’t take back.
“I want to introduce you to someone special,” Belle said, her face lighting up so much a grin spread on my face.
“Yeah?” I asked, rubbing the pad of my thumb on her cheek one final time and then pulling away. I couldn’t keep touching her like that, not when I was meant to be putting more distance between us.
“Yep.” She opened the door and sprung out of the car like a bouncy ball. I followed after her, glancing around the outside and then moving toward the door she was holding open.
The barks echoed off the concrete walls, but I noticed Belle’s shoulders drooping from the sound. She looked at home—like she belonged here—and as I followed her and she greeted first the cats and then a bird, I realized this was what she loved. Even if her dad told her to stop, she wouldn’t. She’d found her passion, but I wasn’t sure she was aware of it.
“This is her,” Belle announced, stopping in front of one of the crates. This dog was different from the rest, though. She waited patiently, her gaze never leaving Belle’s as she opened up the door and stepped inside. I didn’t follow her because I had a feeling I knew what this dog was, and me being inside this kennel with her right away wouldn’t go down well.
Belle got down onto her knees and opened her arms, and only then did the dog lunge forward and lick her entire face. Belle’s laugh echoed around us, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was something I’d missed so much over the years because it was less and less frequent.
“This is Lottie,” Belle said, turning her and the dog so they were now both facing me. “I shouldn’t have favorites, but she’s my favorite.” She shrugged and then turned to stare at Lottie. “Although, sometimes, she looks at me like she has no idea what I’m saying and—”
“Sitz,” I commanded, my voice deep, and the dog immediately sat. Belle gasped, but I didn’t move my gaze from the dog who was waiting for my next order. “Platz.” Lottie stretched out on her front legs, getting as low down as she could.
“What the—”
“Hier.” I didn’t move from just outside the kennel as Lottie trotted toward me and halted at my feet. “Sitz. Braver hund.”
“Ford!” Belle rushed forward and stared at Lottie, then me in awe. “What the heck was that?”
“I had a feeling when I first saw her.” I knelt down and patted Lottie on the head. “But when you said it was like she didn’t understand you—”
“So I was talking the wrong language? What even was that?”
I chuckled and dipped my head back to look at Belle. “It was German.” I pushed my hand through Lottie’s short fur, then stood. “She’s a trained dog. Maybe army?”
Belle’s head swung from Lottie to me and then to Lottie again. “She’s…oh my god.”
“How did she end up here?” I frowned. I had a feeling Lottie was highly trained if her immediate response to my commands were anything to go by. She wasn’t out of shape, and her eyes looked clear as day. So how had she ended up in the shelter?
“She was wandering the streets about ten months ago. Her chip had been removed, and the blood was matted in her fur. It was like whoever had her didn’t want us to know.”
“Wow.” I grimaced as Belle’s eyes misted over. “I’m sure someone will take her, though. She’ll get a good home, right?”
“Right.” Belle stroked Lottie once more. “She has two months until the year is up and then…well, let’s just keep our fingers crossed.”
“Two months until what?” Belle stepped out of the kennel and closed it behind her but kept silent. She’d gone into her own little world, so as she wandered off between the rows of kennels, I stayed back a few steps behind her.
All of a sudden, she spun around, her lips spread into a wide grin. “You ready for feeding time?”
“Feeding time?” I asked.
“Feeding time,” she repeated, and just like that, the sadness that had been on her face disappeared, and the Belle I knew was present again. Whatever she was feeling had been pushed
down. I’d let it go for now, but not forever because I knew what pushing things down did to a person.
I knew better than most.
* * *
BELLE
Having a six-foot-four, broody man following you around campus wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but the students barely seemed to notice Ford as he walked me to each of my classes and then stood in the back with his hands behind his back. I wasn’t sure if he was aware we could see a glimpse of his gun attached to his belt, but no one said anything to him. The professors and lecturers didn’t bat an eyelash at the sight of him, and part of me wondered if he’d already spoken to them—or maybe my dad had. Either way, Ford knew how intimidating he was being, and I couldn’t help but want to make his straight face crack a little.
If Ford was bored of standing and listening to my classes all day, he didn’t show it. I expected him to show at least a little relief when I told him literature was my last class of the day, but all he did was nod, walk me to my seat, and then head toward the back. One thing that helped having Ford with me was that I had been early to every class. I wasn’t sure if that was his plan, or just because students seemed to part ways so he could maneuver through.
