Chapter 6 #3
“Yeah, he’s one of the best dogs we have.
We use him for therapy and hospital visits, and he’s going to a service member who needs a very gentle companion.
You can't always judge someone by the way they look.” He gives me a reassuring smile.
“Come on, we can take him out to the play yard and you’ll see. ”
I’m sweating as I follow Tucker and Enzo, who is now holding the leash with Tonka walking perfectly next to him.
We exit the barn out the back into a fenced and shaded yard with fake grass, a doggy pool, a ton of toys, and plenty of room to run around.
The wind rustles the leaves in the trees and cools the hot summer air a bit.
I take a deep inhale and feel myself relaxing minutely with every step.
There’s something about this place that feels safe and comforting, like nothing bad happens here.
It’s where dreams are fed, and hope blossoms. My eyes prick with relief, and I blink against the sting of tears that must be from the wind and dust in the air.
“Enzo, can you help me unclip Tonka’s leash?
” Tucker asks, showing my kid what to do and letting him try it out.
Once Tonka is free, Tucker gives him a command to run, and the big bully lumbers away, excitedly sniffing around all the toys on the ground as Enzo chases after him.
They run side-by-side around the play yard, the giant dog observant and aware of my kid, never knocking him over or playing too roughly.
When Enzo picks up a rope toy, Tonka takes the other end and they play tug-of-war for a bit, Tonka never pulling too hard despite his superior size and strength.
“This is incredible. Enzo is having the time of his life, and you’re making his literal dreams come true,” I tell Tucker, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm so he knows how sincere I am. “Thank you again for letting us come out here today.”
Tucker puts his hand over mine and squeezes, the gesture both reassuring and affectionate somehow. “Anytime, man.”
He lets my hand go, and I realize I should probably stop touching him.
For some reason, I don't want to. He’s done me a favor that feels monumental, despite being so simple, and he’s been so good to my kid, incredibly patient and kind.
I let my fingers slide down his arm, and for a brief second, I almost reach for his hand, but catch myself and pull away.
I can’t use him for the physical intimacy I’m suddenly craving.
I’m not that broken and weird.
Instead, I bleed my insecurities out on him verbally.
“I’ve felt like such a shitty dad lately. I can’t take my kid out in public without being mobbed by hockey fans, which ruins our time together. Beyond that, I’m always busy with practice, which means I can’t spend as much time with him as I’d like.” I shake my head, my hair falling in my eyes.
When I look up to brush it away, Tucker’s hand is extended nearly to my face, but he quickly drops it. Was he going to move my hair away for me? No, he was likely thinking he needed to comfort me because I’m being a fucking baby. Yeah, saying all that was probably as bad as trying to hold his hand.
My heart rate kicks up as I look around, my anxiety rising now that I’ve messed up even more.
He’s going to ask me to leave and never come back, and Enzo will hate me for ruining another amazing place for him.
I squeeze my temples, closing my eyes tightly under the shade of my trembling hand.
I can't lose my shit right here, he doesn't deserve to bear more of my failings.
This is too much. Why can't I get anything right?
Tucker’s hands land gently on my shoulders and squeeze, the pressure a simple reassurance until I have my nerves in check and can drop my shaking hand from my face, but I avoid eye contact with him.
This is embarrassing as fuck. I want to shrug off his hands but also fall into his chest and break down, which is the last thing I need to be doing right now.
My kid needs me to be strong and levelheaded, and Tucker doesn't need a stranger falling apart in an anxiety spiral on him.
Tucker’s voice is a calm, reassuring rumble when he speaks.
“You’re always welcome to escape from whatever you need to out here.
It’s quiet, the dogs don't ask for much other than a couple of meals a day, some exercise, and cuddles, and no one will bother you. You can bring Enzo to play with the dogs, or you can come by yourself and walk in the woods to clear your head. I think it does a world of good to go out in the quiet with nature, get some red dirt on your shoes, and let your brain breathe without a million people crowding you. And I can cook if you need to stay for dinner. It’s simple stuff, probably not on any nutritionist’s meal plan, but it’ll feel good and remind you that not everything has to be fancy or perfectly planned out. ”
“Thank you,” I mumble quietly, not sure how else to express the gratitude his offer deserves. “I think I’ll be taking you up on that, if you’re serious. It’s nice out here.”
“It’s my sanctuary. This place saved me when I was lost in the darkness. The dogs too. They don't care what you’re going through. They just need you to show up and meet them as you are each day.”
He smooths his hands down my arms, the pressure so nice it takes some of my guilt and worry with it, and looks over the yard to where we last saw the dog and my kid.
I follow his gaze and see Enzo lying on top of Tonka, who is flopped on his side, tongue lolling out, while my kid pets and talks to him.
The dog is bigger than my boy, but so gentle with him, and the trust that’s between the two already is remarkable.
How can a dog know to be that careful and want to be laid on like that by my son?
“I can see why it’s a sanctuary. You don’t get that kind of trust and comfort just anywhere,” I say, my words coming out quiet and serious.
He turns toward me, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up shyly. “You wanna stay for dinner? I’m grilling chicken.”
I’m about to tell him Enzo ate on the way over, but the kid pops up and hurries over.
“We can stay here and eat with you, Mr. Tucker?”
“Only if your dad says it’s okay.”
“Dad, please let’s stay and eat here. The dogs are so fun. Will they have dinner with us too?”
I look over at Tucker, not sure how to answer. He inclines his head at me, and I nod in agreement.
“Lux can come over for dinner if you want, but she has to be good and stay out of the way while we cook and eat. You can’t feed her anything from the table, or you’ll spoil her dinner. Think you can do that and help with her training?”
Enzo nods eagerly and bounces, raising his hands for us to take.
We each grasp a hand, and he pulls us toward the barn door like he knows where he’s going.
Tucker calls for Tonka, who lumbers after us and into his kennel, which Tucker latches before letting my son drag us back out of the barn and toward the farmhouse.
Lux follows us once we get outside, staying close to Tucker’s side all the way up the steps of the back deck and into the house, while Enzo chatters about all the dogs he’s met and which were his favorites.