Chapter Twelve
Jock
The shelter they went to smelled of antiseptic and wet fur, a sharp tang that hit Jock’s nose with familiarity as he stepped inside.
It wasn’t where he volunteered, that was in a different parish from where they lived.
The low brick building, tucked behind a row of warehouses, bore a faded sign: “Second Chance Paws.”
Silly walked beside him, her boots scuffing the linoleum with a quick rat-a-tat-tat, her usual fire running even brighter after the morning’s doctor’s visit.
The doc’s words still hung between them.
The pregnancy was going well. Everything was on target.
It still felt like a dream sometimes. She was pregnant, they were pregnant, and the excitement of it was a quiet storm in their lives.
Jock’s heart swelled at the memory.
He shook himself and captured her hand as they walked up the corridor.
He was excited about being here because while this might have been his idea, Silly had latched on and owned it, pushing for it to happen as a way to “do something good,” she’d said.
Jock was entirely on board with anything Silly wanted.
Inside, the shelter hummed with low chaos—dogs barking, a cat hissing somewhere, a volunteer sweeping fur off the grooming room floor.
The air felt softer than at home or the clubhouse, messier, and Jock shifted, out of place.
Something I can see: Silly, beautiful Silly.
Something I can touch: also Silly, her fingers trustingly twined with mine.
Something I can hear: Dogs barking in excitement.
The script grounded him as surely as the sound of his boots striking the floor echoed off the tile.
Silly’s hand tightened on his, her green eyes catching the fluorescent light, shadowed but determined.
A shelter worker, a wiry woman with a messy bun and a name tag reading “Clara,” greeted them. “You the fosters?” she asked, sizing them up.
Jock nodded, and Silly gave a small smile, her excitement showing in the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah,” Silly said. “Something small, maybe. A dog that needs a chance. Like I said on the phone, we have two big dogs at home, and I’d like a lap-sized doggo.”
“Refresh my memory. You’ve got a mastiff and a...”
“A ten-year-old Mastiff and a pit bull we rescued several months ago. Maynard’s about two years old. Both dogs are well trained and have no aggression issues. They play nicely at the dog park over on Central.”
“Oh, that’s a nice park. I was glad when they put it in. Our sister clinic over there keeps the records for all dogs registered for the park.”
“Oh yeah, Jock said he provided vaccine proof before they went to the park for the first time. I’d forgotten about that. Are all the dogs here up-to-date on their vaccines?”
“They are by the time they’re adopted or fostered out.
” She opened a door and motioned Silly and Jock through.
“This way.” Clara led them to a row of kennels, stopping at one where a terrier mix sat, pressed against the back wall.
The dog was a patchwork of brown and white, one ear bent, the other ear standing up like a satellite dish, but their eyes were wide and wary.
“This is Daisy,” Clara said, crouching. “Found near the warehouses, half starved. Shy, but sweet. No dog aggression. Needs a quiet home to open up.”
Jock knelt, peering through the bars. Daisy’s tail gave a faint wag, but she didn’t move.
Something in her, maybe the way that she might be small and scared, but she was tough, hit him like a memory of strays from his childhood, dodging boots and hunger.
“Hey, girl,” he said, voice low, like he was coaxing his bike after a breakdown.
Daisy’s ears twitched, but she stayed put.
Silly crouched beside him, her shoulder brushing his. “She’s perfect,” she whispered, then glanced at him, a half-smile breaking through. “Like you. All gruff, but soft where it counts.”
Jock snorted, but his chest warmed. “Don’t push it.” He nodded at Clara. “Can we do a meet and greet before we make a decision?”
“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Clara said.
Jock and Silly sat on the floor of the glass-walled room, the short carpet no cushioning against the chill of the cement.
Clara brought Daisy into the room and dropped the leash, stepping to one side.
Daisy looked up at her, then over to where they sat.
She delicately picked her way across the room, body angled to avoid stepping on the leash.
When she was even with Jock’s boots, she stopped and gave them a good sniff.
“Hey, girl,” Silly said brightly. “Who’s a good girl?”
That pulled a half dozen tail wags out of Daisy, and Silly laughed.
Jock said, “She knows she’s a good girl.”
Now the tail kept wagging, and she sidled over to where she could smell Silly’s shoes.
“Smell that? That’s Tank and Maynard. They’ll be excited to meet you.
Tank’s the old man, so don’t feel bad if he won’t play every time you want.
But Maynard, he’ll be the one to get the zoomies with.
You’ll be right at home soon.” Silly bent close, offering a hand, tamping down a squeal when Daisy rested her chin in her palm.
“We’ll take her.” Jock grinned as he looked up at Clara.
Clara smiled, jotting something on a clipboard. “Good choice. She’s a fighter, just needs time.” She glanced around the noisy kennels. “You two seem solid. Not like some who come in here, all talk.”
As Clara stepped away to grab paperwork, Silly leaned against the wall, watching Daisy. “This is a good thing, right? We’re not screwing Maynard up, are we?” she asked, voice barely audible.
Jock looked at her as Daisy inched closer, again sniffing Silly’s outstretched fingers. “You’re here. We’re here,” Jock said. “Taking in a dog that’s got nothing. That’s more than most would do. Maynard’s going to be fine. We will make sure of it.”
Silly’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the shelter’s noise faded. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “We will.” She reached out again, and Daisy nosed her hand, cautious but curious.
Clara returned with a leash and forms. “She’s yours. Bring her back if it doesn’t work, but I think you’ll do fine.” She looped the slip leash over the dog’s head and handed it to Jock, her eyes kind but sharp. “Just go slow with her. She’s been through a lot.”
Jock took the leash, its light weight unfamiliar.
Daisy stepped towards him, trembling but following his gentle tug.
The other dogs barked, a chorus of chaos, but Daisy stayed close, her eyes flicking to Jock like she was sizing him up.
Stay sharp, stay steady, he thought, looping the short mantra as they headed for the door.
This was new and terrifying. All of it. Fostering, fatherhood, the whole damn thing, but they would make it work. One step at a time.
***
The IMC clubhouse was filled with the scents of barbecue and beer, the back patio alive with laughter under string lights.
Jock stood by the grill, flipping burgers, while Silly chatted with Penny near the picnic tables.
Tank lounged at Jock’s feet, while Maynard chased Daisy in lazy circles around the yard.
The brothers milled around in various configurations.
Twisted sat under a tree, nursing a beer, while Wildman was telling some crazy story to Ace and Wrench, who were laughing their asses off.
It was a low-key Sunday cookout, the kind that felt like family, but tonight carried extra weight.
Silly caught Jock’s eye, nodding subtly. It was time. They’d kept the news close for weeks, savoring the secret, but now, with the first three months safely behind them, they were ready to share.
Jock cleared his throat, banging a spoon against his bottle. “Hey, listen up!” The chatter died down, eyes turning his way. Silly slipped beside him, her hand in his, a nervous smile playing on her lips.
“We got some news,” Jock said, his voice steady but his heart pounding. “Silly and me...We’re expanding the family.” He paused, letting it sink in, then grinned. “She’s pregnant. Due in about six months.”
The patio erupted. Penny squealed, rushing to hug Silly tight. “I knew it! Oh my god, congrats!”
“Brother, that’s huge. Little IMC prospect on the way?” Twisted clapped Jock on the back, his grin wide. “Fuckin’ yeah, man.”
Wildman whooped, raising his beer. “To the newest rider! Hope they get Silly’s looks and your bike skills.”
Ace pulled Jock into a bear hug, murmuring, “Proud of you, man. You’ll be a hell of a dad.”
Even the dogs seemed to sense the joy, bounding over with excited barks, Daisy yipping at Silly’s feet.
Silly laughed, tears in her eyes as she fielded hugs and questions. “We found out a bit ago, but wanted to wait. Everything’s good. Everything’s going really well. The baby is healthy and strong.”
Jock watched her glow, his arm around her shoulders, the weight of their future feeling real and right. No drama tonight, just love and brotherhood. As the toasts flowed and the night deepened, he whispered to her, “Best reveal ever.” She kissed him softly. “Our pack just got bigger.”
***
Jock pulled up in front of Kent’s veterinary practice, then got out of the truck as he tucked Daisy underneath one arm. He let the other two dogs out of the truck and stepped to the side when he opened the back door into the building. “Kent? Where are you, man?”
“Here” came from one of the treatment rooms, so Jock took the two large dogs into the waiting room, put them into a down-stay along one wall, and then stepped through the swinging door that led back to the treatment rooms.
“I’ve got Daisy with me. Boys are out front.” Jock was still shouting when he pushed open the only closed door, surprised to find Kent already at the exam table. “Damn man, am I late?”