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"Nah," I shake my head. "I've got family up there."
Her eyebrows go up. "Oh, really? Where at?"
"Fern Hollow?" I say, wondering if she'll even know about it. "It's just a little place out in the mountains, they--"
But Sam just laughs. "No way."
"Yes...way," I chuckle. "What?"
"I live in Fern Hollow," she says. "And yeah, it's atinyplace. I probably know them. What's your last name?"
I smile at her, confused about how this twist of fate could've happened without my knowing. "Hart...?"
She lets out a surprised laugh, loud enough to even drown out the dogs. "Yeah, I know the Harts," she says. "Hold on--you're the big, fancy, lost brother, then?"
I snort at that description. "Guess so."
"Yeah, Tasha and Chance are good friends," she says. "They're actually watching my kid."
"Shit, I didn't even know Chance was back," I murmur. "How'd you meet 'em?"
Sam's face suddenly falls, her brow furrowed. "Uh...Chance served with my husband, actually."
I gaze at her for a moment, but it reminds me how gorgeous she is--and I feel like I have to look away. Right, she's married. I can't just start prying into her personal life.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we pass through the city and onto the highway. The dogs have settled down in their kennels, and the only sound in the van is the hum of the tires on the pavement. The sun starts to set behind us, casting a warm glow across the landscape. Sam turns on the radio, and a soft tune fills the air.
Some country song, I think. She sings along, and her voice is rough, but beautiful.
And I enjoy just listening to her sing as my day catches up with me...and I drift to sleep.
Chapter three
Sam
Iforgothowcrazydoing this kind of thing feels.
We drive for a good four hours before it's time for our first pull-off at a rest stop, the dogs whining and barking as they start to get restless. The rest stop is on a grassy stretch between the highway and the ocean, and I smile at the sound of waves as I get out and stretch my legs, then open up the back of the van. The dogs all react immediately, wagging their tails and scratching at the bars of their kennels.
"So...four at a time?" Evan says.
I nod. "That's how I've always done it."
We get started letting dogs out and leashing them up, and I try to memorize their names. Sure, I won't be with these dogs for all that long, but they deserve to be known--and it's a nice tradition I remember from my days doing this back before Alex was born, before...
...before David.
I drove this route dozens of times, little roadtrips down south to rescue what had to have been hundreds of pups from various pounds and overcrowded shelters. I went even farther, too--to Texas, Louisiana, Florida...
"Where's your head at?" Evan asks as I stand in the grass and watch the dogs sniff around.
I look over at him, his hands just as full of leashes. "All over the place," I reply.
He doesn't pry--which I'm grateful for. As we stand there, watching the dogs play, I feel a sense of guilt wash over me. Maybe it was selfish of me leave Alex behind, when he already lost his dad. I know I'll be just fine, that I'll go home to him, but this might have to be my last rescue roadtrip.
"You good?" Evan asks.
I give him a small smile and nod my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get the next set of dogs out."
