Chapter 4
ARLEN
Cat follows the smell of coffee downstairs and into the kitchen. She’s already moving better than yesterday. Though I would have preferred to carry her.
“Good morning,” I say, setting down a mug for her. It’s strange, sharing my home with someone. The last time I spoke to anyone this early in the morning was when I was still in the military, sharing barracks with dozens of men.
Like a black cat, she yawns, stretches her arms overhead, and smiles at me. “Morning, Arlen.”
She’s far better company than any Devil Dog.
The sleepy look on her face is like a dream. It’s more pleasant than any sunrise I’ve ever witnessed on this mountain.
And last night was more peaceful than the first snow of winter, cozier than any other night I’ve spent by the fire through a storm. Having her next to me on the couch, even if I was afraid to look at her, felt like some part of me that’s been missing my whole life finally found me.
“I hope you slept well,” I say.
“Best sleep I’ve had in years.” She sits across from me, cupping the mug for warmth. “It’s so quiet here.”
“Some folks don’t like the quiet. Their thoughts get too loud.”
“Not me,” she says, eyes closed. “No car alarms. No sirens. No homeless man ranting outside my window at two in the morning. Just the sound of rain…”
In my old flannel, she doesn’t look like a city girl. Her curly hair is a mess, all nappy and jutting out at odd angles. I’d love to run my fingers through the knots all morning while we watched the dogs run in the field.
Cat opens her eyes and catches me staring.
I clear my throat, get up, and pour my coffee into a thermos. “Lots of work to do. I’m going to head out to the barn and feed the dogs. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like… I washed your clothes. How’s your ankle?”
“Much better,” she says, raising her mug to me. “Thank you for carrying me around last night.”
I nod. “Don’t mention it.”
She’ll be leaving soon, then. Nothing keeping her here anymore. No storm. No injury. I selfishly hope she’ll trip again so I’ll have a new excuse to insist that she stay another night.
To my surprise, she gets up and walks to the sliding glass door, staring out over the field. “I think I’ll stick around. You look like you could use some help.”
“I do?”
“You’ve got an army of dogs to feed, medicine to administer, coats that I’m sure need brushing.” Cat glances at me and shrugs. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I want to help, Arlen,” she says sternly. “I want to stay.”
“You’ve got a long drive home—“
“Then we better get to work.”
I go rigid as she smacks me on the arm.
“I’m going to change and grab my thermos from my car. You better have some work for me to do when I’m done.”
I smile at her. “You’re stubborn.”
“Only as stubborn as you.”
Cat shuffles off, big butt bouncing in those old sweatpants. I’d hate to see her change out of my clothes.
But I’d hate to see her go even more.
It’s a dripping wet day. Sunbeams catch in all the water left behind by the storm. Fat droplets dive off the trees. The dogs play in puddles of mud.
These are the days I live for. Every moment is full of tranquil beauty. Sometimes, I can’t believe that this is my life.
With Cat here, I’m so sure I’m dreaming.
All the beauty of the mountain, my home, and the dogs grows more vibrant around her smile. I catch her gorgeous green eyes, and the whole world seems like a better place than it is.
The music of the birds sounds sweeter than I’ve ever heard it.
Even the dogs seem happier.
Well, I know they are. They love people, and they only ever have me.
Cat laughs as some of the bigger dogs trail her around the grass. She’s scooping up their droppings, trying to match each one with the dog who left it as she plunges them into a trash bag.
“This one must be yours, Shade. Look how big it is.” She holds the pooper scooper up to the husky’s nose. He sneezes and runs off. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone poops.”
Watching her with the dogs seals my fate.
When I laid eyes on her, I knew that my heart had chosen for me. It didn’t make much sense beyond how stunningly gorgeous she is; I didn’t understand why, in that moment, my whole future had been decided. But I felt it—I trusted it.
Now I see I was right.
She speaks to the dogs as if they can talk back. In all the work we do on the property together, she takes great care to do it right. This isn’t some college student logging volunteer hours with animal shelters. She doesn’t expect anything in return.
She helps because she loves these animals… because it’s the right thing to do.
“You’re good with them,” I say, walking beside her with my own trash bag and scooper. “You have any of your own?”
Cat shakes her head. “Stupid apartment complex won’t let me have dogs. Otherwise, I’d be fostering as many as I could. As soon as I can afford a house, my life will be full of dogs. Forget kids. I want a pack of big dogs.”
I’ve never wanted kids, so I hope she’s not joking.
“You sure?” I hold up the scooper. “It’s a whole lot of scooping up wet piles of shit.”
Cat smiles at me. “I’m quite enjoying scooping up shit with you, Arlen.”
“I feel like I’ve been scooping up metaphorical shit my entire life,” I laugh. “Scooping actual shit ain’t half bad.”
“You were in the Marines, right? Was it that bad?”
“Only six years.” I shrug. “And, yeah, sometimes. Everything before that was much, much worse… I think my childhood prepared me to be a Marine better than anything ever could.”
It’s strange, saying so much to a person I only met yesterday.
Being labeled an asshole by the shelter staff isn’t unearned. I’m closed off… I can admit that. Hell, I pride myself on it. Why should I let anyone in? People don’t love unconditionally the way dogs do.
Well, I used to believe that. Now that I’ve met Cat, I’m not so sure.
She’s giving me a look that tells me that she wants to hear more, but doesn’t want to pry. I swallow the lump in my throat, feel it hot and heavy in my chest. My instincts scream at me to shut my mouth, but my heart beats a different tune.
“Never met my father,” I say, shoving shit into the bag. “He bailed before I was born. Mom took off when I was three, left me with her sister. Maybe she thought she was doing the right thing… I don’t know.”
Hard memories calcify in my mind, things I’ve ignored for years.
“It all feels like a different life.” I stop and stare up at the puffy clouds drifting overhead.
“I remember the trailer park… my aunt’s husband hitting me…
weeks on my own when they would take off for Vegas or Reno.
Those times were the best, so long as I could find food.
I started working when I was eleven just to make sure I could feed myself.
The owner of a burger joint paid me under the table to do all the shit jobs.
Three bucks an hour and a free burger and fries after every shift. ”
I smile, remembering those burgers.
“That’s the first time I can remember having agency. It felt good to take care of myself,” I say, avoiding her gaze. “I enlisted in the Marines when I was seventeen. My aunt happily signed the waiver as my guardian. I’m sure they were glad to see me go.”
Cat follows behind me. “Did you ever see her again?”
“No.” I sigh and shake my head. “Fun story, right? I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” Frustration burns in me. It weighs me down. “Fucking sob story. I’m a grown man. I should get over it—“
If the feeling in my chest is a burn , Cat’s hand on my forearm is a gentle, nurturing warmth, soothing as ointment.
I turn slowly, finding those doe eyes shining.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly. “If I haven’t made it clear… and I hope I’m not misreading this weird situation we’ve found ourselves in… I’m not just staying to help with the dogs, Arlen.”
“I know. Your ankle—“
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not my ankle, either. When I saw you yesterday, running out of that barn with all the dogs around you… I wanted to get to know you. The rumors about you being an asshole weren’t true.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“ They weren’t ,” she says. “At least, you’re not an asshole to me.”
That’s the truth.
This girl is revealing a side of me I didn’t even know existed.
A side that wants to open up, that wants to remember all that hurt so I can share it with someone who gives a shit.
Someone who will tell me that I didn’t deserve such a dreadful childhood.
Say sorry when no one else will. Don’t I deserve that, at least?
The Marine in me laughs. Don’t act like a bitch…
Cat squeezes my arm, never looking away. “I want to see what else there is to the dog man on the mountain. That’s why I stayed.”
I narrow my eyes.
“That,” Cat laughs softly, “and the dogs.”
I nod, returning her smile. “Yeah. They have that effect on people.”
I wouldn’t have it any other way.