2
Drew tried to blend into the woodwork in the corner of the Copper Kettle, already regretting his choice to venture out on a Tuesday night.
Tuesdays were karaoke nights at the coffeehouse—always had been, always would be—and he usually avoided the spectacle like the plague, but the Savannah he remembered had been drawn to a microphone like a moth to a flame.
If he was right, and she really was back in town, this was probably where she’d be.
And after four days of wondering, he needed to know for sure.
“Did you get lost on your way home?”
Drew glanced up to find Jonah standing beside the small table, his brow raised as high as it would go. His cousin pulled out the chair next to Drew’s and plopped into it without invitation.
“This is the last place I thought I’d see you tonight,” the younger man went on. “You finally gonna show the world what you can do? Want me to sign you up?”
“Do you want to see tomorrow?” Drew countered, scowling, and Jonah chuckled.
“Okay, okay, so not here to perform. Are you taking my advice, then? You here to meet a girl?”
Drew didn’t gratify this question with an answer beyond the unimpressed stare that was his default expression, but Jonah—a frequent recipient of that stare—wasn’t bothered.
“Well, you’re gonna have to do better than that,” he pointed out. “Girls like it when you smile!” Then he stood up and turned to face the rest of the room as the music died down. “Step right up, ladies! Don’t be scared! Beneath this frightening exterior beats the heart of a hero!” he yelled.
Drew reached across the table and grabbed his cousin by the back of his shirt before yanking him down into his seat.
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he growled.
A few people nearby glanced over and chuckled before going back to their own business.
Most of the locals were used to Jonah Walker’s antics, but Drew could feel the tips of his ears turning red just the same.
He pulled his hat down farther over his eyes, as if he could make himself invisible. “What is wrong with you?!” he demanded.
Jonah shrugged, completely unfazed. “Just trying to be a good wingman.”
“I don’t need a wingman,” Drew hissed. “Just sit down and shut up.”
“Suit yourself,” Jonah conceded. He reclaimed his chair and leaned it back on two legs as he looked toward the stage. Then he let out a low whistle when the next singer in line stepped up to the mic. “Do we know her?” he asked.
Drew’s next breath snagged inside his chest as both his hopes and his fears came true. Yes, he thought. Yes, we do.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized Savannah the second he’d laid eyes on her. Now, even with the stage lights in her face, he knew her as clear as day. She’d grown up in the last seven years—the same way they all had—and time had been good to her.
“Is that the girl from the other day? Who took the dog?” Jonah asked.
Drew grunted in reply. “Yep. Savannah Reynolds,” he added.
“Savannah . . .” Jonah trailed off, like he was putting the pieces together. “You mean from when we were kids?” he asked at last, and the legs of his chair came back to the ground with a thump. “That Savannah?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure?”
Drew reached for his soda and raised it to his lips before taking a long swallow.
He watched Savannah over the rim of his glass.
“Positive,” he grumbled. She was full of energy, moving this way and that across the stage as she belted out a Shania Twain anthem like it was no big deal.
She didn’t even need the screen; she was at home, comfortable in her own skin in a way Drew had never been a day in his life.
She was still undeniably herself, even after all this time—albeit with a few extra curves she hadn’t had before.
Main character energy.
That was what his sister Brooklyn called it.
People like Savannah had main character energy, while people like Drew were the sidekicks—useful in their own way, necessary for the story arc, but never center stage. And main characters didn’t fall for sidekicks. That just wasn’t how the stories went.
At least, not any stories Drew had ever read.
All at once, he was fourteen again, watching Savannah Reynolds walk away with someone better—just like every girl who had come after her. The start of a never-ending pattern.
“So, are you gonna talk to her?” Jonah asked.
Drew tore his gaze from the stage and swirled the contents of his drink. Savannah didn’t seem to have noticed him, and he’d like to keep it that way. “No,” he answered.
“Why not? You could ask about the dog,” Jonah suggested, but Drew shook his head.
“The dog isn’t my problem,” he replied.
And neither is the girl, he told himself. He’d been down that road before, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
Drew parked the tractor along the edge of the lower field and climbed down from the driver’s seat.
His boots hit the ground with an alarming crunch that made him wince.
Every farmer he knew had spent extra time on his knees that summer praying for rain, though very little had come.
Now, harvest was right around the corner, and Drew dreaded what they would all find at the end of it.
He trudged along the tree line to where his truck waited in the shade.
It wasn’t far from this field to his house, but still farther than he wanted to hike in the thick August heat.
He climbed inside and cranked the ignition before pulling slowly onto a rutted trail that led toward the main road.
His cabin came into view a few minutes later.
Built toward the back of the Tanners’ land, it had been his grandparents’ first home.
It was dated, of course, but solid—so solid, in fact, that the only real work he’d done after moving in was put a new railing on the front porch.
He went inside and headed straight for the shower. When he climbed out fifteen minutes later, his phone was vibrating, and he picked it up to glance at the screen.
Unknown number.
He tossed the device back onto his bed while he hunted through his dresser for clean pants and then pulled them on.
He hardly ever answered the phone, especially when he didn’t know who was calling.
The buzzing finally stopped, only to begin again a few seconds later.
Drew frowned and checked the screen a second time.
Unknown number.
He clicked a button to send it to voicemail, then slipped the device into his pocket before padding barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen. But no sooner had he opened the fridge than a third call came in; he yanked his phone back out in irritation.
Unknown number.
He let out a growl and jammed his finger against the “answer” button. “Hello?” he demanded.
There was the briefest of pauses before a woman’s voice filled the line. “Do you remember when you couldn’t say that word without jumping up an octave at the end?” she asked.
Drew straightened and pulled the phone away from his head, looking at the screen as if the device had somehow become a strange animal.
“I’m sorry, this is Savannah,” came the distant voice from his speaker, and he put the phone back to his ear.
“You know, Savannah Reynolds? From the vet clinic?” she went on.
“I know who you are,” he said sharply, then he winced. He hadn’t meant to be a jerk about it. “How’d you get this number?”
A longer pause this time. “You left it on the paperwork,” Savannah replied, and Drew mentally smacked himself. Of course, the form he’d signed at the vet’s office. Savannah cleared her throat and went on. “I’m calling about the dog you brought in,” she explained.
“He’s not my dog,” he said automatically.
“Oh, well, I know, but the form you signed says you agree to serve as a permanent or foster home if he was still unclaimed after the ten-day waiting period and, well, his time is up.”
Savannah’s words bled together in Drew’s ears, sounding more and more like a hive of angry honeybees with each syllable. The form he’d signed said what?!
“Say that again?” he asked.
“I said, the form you signed says you agree to take him home if his previous owner can’t be found within ten days, and tomorrow will make ten days. He isn’t microchipped, and nobody has responded to our claim notices, so he’s yours.”
Drew listened again, dumbfounded. “I don’t want a dog,” he deadpanned.
There was silence again. “He’s a really sweet boy,” Savannah said at last. “He knows basic commands, and he’s a huge teddy bear. He’d probably love riding in your truck and exploring the woods and everything. He wouldn’t—”
“I don’t want a dog!” Drew repeated, his anxiety rising. He could barely take care of himself most days; why would he want to be responsible for something else? “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I signed, but I can’t—”
“This is his last night on Earth, Drew,” Savannah interrupted. “I’ve called every shelter in nine counties, and they’re all full. He can’t stay here, and I can’t have dogs in my apartment, so you are literally his last option. Now, I know you never liked me much when we were kids—”
What? Drew thought.
“—but we’re adults now, and I’m hoping we can be friends—at least long enough to save Ryker,” she went on.
“Ryker?” Drew blurted. “Who’s Ryker?”
“The dog.”
“Oh.” Obviously.
“It would only be for a few weeks, a month, max. He just needs a place to sleep and someone to feed him. I’ll even come by and help. Please, Drew? For old times’ sake? Please don’t make me have to put him down.”
Drew paused. He didn’t want a dog, but he also wasn’t heartless enough to sentence one to death for no good reason. “Fine,” he heard himself say. “You can bring him tomorrow.”
“Deal,” she said quickly. “I’ll bring everything he needs to get started, okay?”
“Perfect,” Drew muttered.
There was another long pause, but Savannah didn’t hang up. “Drew?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“You have to tell me where you live.”