Three
In the four years since I’d seen him, time had transformed the quiet neighborhood guy into a confident man.
Time broadened his shoulders, filled out his frame, and replaced the quiet uncertainty of adolescence with the confidence of a man who’s comfortable in his own skin.
His jaw is more defined, and there’s an easy confidence about him that hadn’t existed before I left.
Before I can compose myself, and his face breaks into the same easy smile I remember from growing up together. It reaches his eyes, warm and genuine, making the years between us disappear as though I’d only been gone a weekend.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
“Hi.”
For a second, neither of us moves. Then he closes the distance, wraps me in a quick hug, and the familiar scent of cedar and clean laundry instantly carries me back to summers spent riding bikes through the neighborhood and Friday nights watching little league games.
“You look…” He steps back, smiling as he looks at my uniform. “Different.”
I pause, feeling my expression screw my face. “I’ll take that as a compliment?”
“Good, because I definitely meant it as one.”
He reaches for my duffel bag. I protest. “I got it.”
“No doubt,” he says, lifting it into the bed of his truck with effortless ease. “But humor me.”
I watch him for a second, smiling to myself.
From the tales my mother tells, I’m not surprised he’s one of the most successful wealth managers in the area.
Dave had always seen opportunities where everyone else saw ordinary days.
When we were twelve, he’d spent weeks saving his allowance before asking his mom to buy a bulk bag of candy and a case of bottled water.
The following Saturday, while the rest of us watched our friends play baseball, Dave set up a folding table and triangulated himself between three little league games with a handwritten sign that read: One Water.
One Candy. One Dollar. By the end of the afternoon, he’d more than doubled his money.
He was different.
I admired that.
He notices the bundle tucked inside my top.
“What’ve you got there?”
I smile and gently pull the puppy into view. “I found him hiding in a pile of newspaper and trash near the elevator. I think somebody dumped him.”
Dave’s expression softens instantly. He reaches over and strokes the puppy’s head, his knuckles brushing my fingers in the process. The contact lasts only a second, but warmth spreads through me before I can stop it.
“Poor guy,” he says quietly.
“I think he’s dehydrated, Dave. He was licking the sweat off me.
” I shake my head, unable to hide my disappointment.
“I’ll never understand how we’ve become such a disposable society.
People throw away more, and care about it less.
” I look down at the puppy nestled safely against me.
“No worries, little man.” I whisper. “You’re not disposable. ”
“I’ve got a bottle of water in the truck.
” Dave opens the passenger door for me before walking around to the driver’s side.
I grab the water from the console, and once we’re buckled in, he pulls onto the highway.
Glancing over at the tiny passenger curled in my lap inspecting the capful of water in my hand. “So…what’s the plan?” His brow quirks.
My forehead wrinkles. “I wish I knew. First stop is a veterinarian. After that…” I shrug. “I’ll try to find someone to give him a good home.”
“You won’t keep him?” He pauses. “Not even a thought?”
I give him an incredulous look. “You’ve met my mom, right?”
Dave chuckles. “Fair point.”
“I’d love to have a dog, but I’m only home for two weeks. Then it’s back to the base.” I pause. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I couldn’t leave him there.”
The puppy shifts, wiggling free from the opening of my uniform before settling comfortably across my lap. I smile as my fingers drift behind his ears, scratching a spot that make his little back leg twitch. Stretching his neck, he exposes more of the white patch on his chest.
“Hold him still a second,” Dave says as we come to a red light.
“I am.”
He in leans a little closer and points to something on the puppy, while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “See that? There.”
“Where?” I pull the dog up to examine where Dave indicates.
“That small white patch.”
I look at the mark, examining it more carefully. Against black fur sits an imperfect splash of white. It isn’t symmetrical or neat. One side curves a little farther than the other, but together they form the unmistakable outline of a tiny heart. I can’t help smiling. “Well, look at that.”
Dave grins. “Looks like somebody left a piece of his heart on the outside.”
I gently rub my thumb over the marking. “An imperfect heart.”
Our eyes meet for the briefest moment.
“I like that better,” he says.
“So do I.”
As if he’d decided we were finished talking about him, the puppy leans forward and licks the underside of my chin. I laugh.
“I think he needs something.”
“What?”
“A name.” Dave explains, glancing over again and grinning. “Damn, he’s cute. He needs a name.”
I look into those big, soulful brown eyes. “Trooper.”
The minute he hears the name; the puppy’s tail thumps happily against my leg.
Dave smiles. “I’d say he approves.”
Traffic slows as we exit the highway and turn toward my neighborhood. Trooper curls into a little ball, resting his head against my stomach with a sigh that sounds almost relieved.
“He’s so skinny,” Dave says quietly. “You can see his ribs.”
A frown curves down the corners of my mouth.
“I know.” I stroke the puppy’s side as gently as I can.
“His eyes are a little goopy, but I’m thinking it might be an irritation from whatever was on the garbage he was hiding in.
” I pull him in. “You, poor baby. I can’t imagine how long you were out there by yourself. ”
As if on cue, Trooper shivers. I lift him closer and kissed the top of his head.
Dave chuckles low.
I look over. “What?”
He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “Nothing.”
“Daaaave.”
“It’s …” His eyes find mine for a second before returning to the road. “The way you just took over. Taking care of him, I mean. Most people would’ve ignored him and walked right by.”
“I couldn’t.”
“It’s like you said: society’s become so disposable.” His voice was almost a whisper. “But not you. One day, you’ll make a good mom.”
The compliment settles somewhere deep inside me.
“Who knows, but thanks.” I quietly admit.
“I feel like the Army’s made me tougher, but I don’t have mettle like my mom—and speaking of her, Mom isn’t exactly an animal lover.
” A sigh escapes. “Like I said; in two weeks I’ll be back on base, so the discussion is pretty moot. ”
Dave gives me a sideways look.
“We might be able to figure something out.”
My eyes widen.
We?