26. Isaac
CHAPTER 26
ISAAC
M y lungs burn, feet pounding against the concrete, each step taken in desperation. I have to find Baxter before Emily knows he’s gone. If she finds out, she’ll be so worried, so stressed… and maybe — selfishly, I think — angry with me.
Sweat beads on my forehead, not just from exertion but also from the awful sense of guilt pressing down on me. I know this was all my fault, and because I didn’t pay attention this morning, something horrible might have happened to Baxter. With all the traffic in this city…
The poor dog. He trusts me to care for me, to keep him safe, and in the end I’ve just let him down.
“Here, Baxter,” I call out, voice cracking, hoping for a miracle.
I scour alleyways and parks, anywhere he might have wandered off to. The city feels vast, overwhelming — each person I pass oblivious to the urgency that tightens my chest.
A leaf flutters to the sidewalk, landing in front of my feet. It reminds me of when Emily and I walked through the park, laughing as Baxter chased the dandelion puffs, his tail wagging like a metronome keeping time with our happiness. Now, every second without him stings with the sharpness of lost moments.
I check my phone for the twentieth time. No messages, no missed calls. My thumb hovers over Emily’s contact, but I can’t face her yet — not without Baxter by my side. I can’t let her see this failure; after all, she entrusted me with something precious.
The sun climbs higher, each minute that passes a reminder that time is running out. Panic seethes under my skin, a living thing desperate to escape. I remind myself to breathe, slow and deep, but it does no good.
My phone rings in my pocket, making me jump, and I quickly pull it out. Maybe someone has found Baxter.
It’s Emily, though.
My heart drops into my stomach, and I consider not answering. I don’t have to tell her Baxter is missing, but I don’t trust my acting abilities. She’ll probably be able to tell just from the sound of my voice that something is up.
My need to hear her voice, to lose myself in its soothing qualities, finally wins out, though, and I answer.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “What’s up?”
“Isaac,” Emily’s voice is tense, a thread pulled too taut. Right away I know something is wrong.
“What is it?” I suck in a sharp breath.
“It’s Baxter. Someone brought him into the shelter. He was found running around downtown.”
Relief crashes into me, so powerful it almost brings me to my knees right there on the bustling street corner. But then I catch the strain behind her words, and the relief curdles into shame.
“Thank God,” I breathe, leaning against a lamppost to steady myself. “I’m so sorry, Em. He got out of my office somehow, and?—”
“Out of your office?” Her shock is palpable, even through the phone.
“Yeah,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “He slipped out when Carol and I weren’t there, and then a door was propped open downstairs and… I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”
“Isaac,” she exhales, and I can almost see her shaking her head, her brow furrowed. “How did this…”
“I’ll be at the shelter as fast as I can.” I start moving again, purpose renewing my tired legs. “I’m going to make this right.”
“Okay,” she says, but her voice is distant, like she’s already pulling away.
“Em, please,” I plead, my heart hammering against my rib cage. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
There’s a pause, long enough for me to hear the roar of the city around me, a reminder of how alone I feel in this moment.
“I know,” she finally replies. “Just… get here soon, okay? He’s freaking out. The shelter is a really stressful place.”
“Of course,” I say and end the call, my grip on the phone so tight it could snap.
As I weave through the crowds, the reflections in the shop windows show a man frayed at the edges, holding himself together with sheer will. I think about Emily, her love for Baxter, her belief in me — the belief I’m scared I’m not worthy of anymore.
Baxter was supposed to be my responsibility, a symbol that I could care for something other than work, that I could grow and become the kind of man my father wanted me to be. Yet here I am, scrambling to fix a mistake that should never have happened.
“Almost there, buddy,” I say to the empty air, picturing Baxter’s brown eyes and wagging tail. The image fuels me, pushes me past the fatigue and the ache of my conscience. I have to be the man Emily believes I can be, the man I promised her I’d try to be.
Back at work, I go straight to my car, calling Carol as I get into it and giving her an update.
“Thank goodness he’s safe,” she breathes.
“Yeah,” I murmur through tight teeth. I’m also relieved that Baxter is okay, but I’m not looking forward to standing as a true loser in front of the woman I’m crazy about.
Every red light is a test of patience, every crosswalk crowded with people a barrier to overcome. But I can’t stop now, won’t stop until I’ve made things right.
“Sorry” has become a useless word. It won’t change what happened, won’t undo the knot in my stomach or the worry I heard in Emily’s voice. Only action can do so, only getting to Baxter and proving that this isn’t who I am.
Finally, the shelter comes into view, and I grab the first parking spot I see then jog into the building.
“Emily,” I call out, stepping into the world where her passion lives, where she heals and loves unconditionally. “I’m here.”
I look around, expecting to see her holding Baxter, expecting to see the life we’ve been building together still standing despite my missteps. But the lobby is empty, not even a person behind the front desk.
“Isaac,” her voice comes from behind, and I turn to see her walking toward me, Baxter on a leash next to her. It’s a scene that holds both relief and confrontation — a moment suspended between what was and what could be.
“Hi,” I manage to say, my heart lodged in my throat.
Baxter runs over to me, his body vibrating with tension and relief. His paws are wet and muddy, and as I pet him he presses his side against me, silently begging me to stay with him. It breaks my heart, seeing him like this.
I look up and there’s Emily, her arms crossed, her gaze like the edge of winter — sharp and unforgiving.
“Emily, I—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“How could you be so careless?” Her voice is a whip, each word striking deep. “He could have gotten hit by a car. Thank God someone was kind enough to grab him and bring him in. Also, if I weren’t here today, no one would have recognized him. It would have been hours before someone scanned him for a chip.”
Her face turns red as she goes on, and I stay quiet, allowing her the time to dish out what she needs to. “I mean, how does he get from that floor, so high up, to the bottom — then out? There had to be more than one act of negligence there!”
My throat tightens. “It was an accident. He slipped out when?—”
“Accidents happen when you’re not paying attention.” She steps closer, her eyes searching mine, demanding accountability. “What if he got hurt? What if someone took him and kept him? Did you even think about that?”
The questions hang heavy around us, and I feel the weight of each one. “Of course I did. That’s why I was out there, looking for him.”
“Looking for him after the fact doesn’t change that you weren’t careful enough to prevent this.” Her tone softens, but only to drive her point home. “You promised you’d take care of him.”
“My job is demanding. You know that. It’s not just something I can put aside.” I try to explain, but my words sound hollow.
“Your job,” she repeats, her voice trembling. “It’s always your job, isn’t it, Isaac? Just like your dad.”
Those words, they feel like a blow to the chest. I recoil as if she’s struck me physically. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She steps back, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a chill only she can feel. “Your job is important, yes, but what about Baxter? What about us? You made more time for him, but I should have known that it wouldn’t stick. Tigers don’t change their stripes.”
I search for the right words, but they seem to dissolve before they can reach my lips. “I’m trying, Em. I really am.”
“Trying isn’t good enough when it comes to the ones you love.” She looks away, and in that gesture, I see the distance between us stretch further than the miles I ran tonight.
“Emily, please. Don’t do this. Don’t make it about?—”
“About what? About reality? You’re turning into him — into the person that you complain about. Prioritizing work over everything else, over everyone who cares about you.” Her accusation hangs in the air, a verdict delivered without hope of appeal.
“Emily…” My voice breaks, my defenses crumbling. “I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to lose you, not over this.”
“Then show me,” she says softly. “Show me that he means more to you than a deal, a meeting, a never-ending climb to the top. I get that you were distracted, but normal distraction is forgetting to turn a light off. You have an animal depending on you.”
She looks down at Baxter, who is sitting as small as he can, his tail tucked. My chest feels like a dish towel being wrung dry. I already know how much I messed up, and I don’t need Emily rubbing salt into the wound. Venting for a minute was fine, but this? It’s unnecessary.
“I’m not perfect,” I say, “but neither are you, so you have no right to point fingers.”
Her eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, it’s just—” I clutch at the roots of my hair in frustration. “I wasn’t talking about anything in particular, just that you’re being kind of harsh right now.”
Her eyes stay narrowed. “I don’t think it’s harsh to want the best for Baxter. And if you can’t take care of him, maybe it’s best that you leave him here so we can find him a home with someone who has the time for him.”
Bile rises in my throat. Did she seriously just say that?
“I can take care of my own dog,” I spit at her.
We stare at each other for a long moment, our chests heaving. Finally, she shakes her head. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“With what? Which part? Me losing Baxter? Or the way this situation is triggering you? I’m not your parents, Emily. You can count on me. Just because?—”
“I need some space.” She’s still as a statue, unblinking.
I suck in a breath. I was just getting started.
“Bye,” she says without looking at me.
She pivots and walks away, down a hallway that leads to the back of the shelter. I watch her go, every step she takes a punctuation mark to our conversation — a period, an ellipsis, a question mark. What happens next? Can we bridge this gap, or are we destined to walk separate paths, haunted by what-ifs and might-have-beens?
“Come on, boy.” I give Baxter’s leash a gentle tug, and he hustles to fall into step next to me.
Anger, disappointment, and frustration turn my vision blurry as I walk to the car. I know I messed up, but Emily’s reaction was way out of proportion. And the fact that she lashed out at me after I mentioned that I’m not her parents tells me everything I need to know.
It’s not that I wanted to push the parents button. I simply refused to keep standing there while she endlessly attacked me. And now she needs space. And now… now I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again.
I sit behind the steering wheel, staring at nothing, feeling everything. The past, the present, the uncertain future — they meld together in a tapestry of moments and memories. The first time I saw Emily, her smile brightening the park. The day I brought Baxter home, so angry with my dad, feeling so betrayed. The nights spent working late, the phone calls I didn’t answer, the dinners I missed.
All those moments, all those decisions, have led me here. Alone. Grieving. Grappling with the stark reality of Emily’s absence.
Baxter pushes his wet nose into my thigh, whimpering a little. I barely register the sensation. With a heavy sigh, I turn the ignition and steer the car out of the shelter’s lonely parking lot.
Maybe this is for the best. I know that I need to do better, but at least I’m taking responsibility for that. Emily thought her reaction was completely justified. So maybe I’ve dodged a bullet. Emily and me, we’re oil and water, fire and ice. Like two parallel lines destined never to meet — chasing each other in perpetual pursuit but fated to never intersect.
It’s not even because we’re from different worlds. That’s never mattered to me. It’s the way she attacked me for a mistake that anyone could make.
No answer. No apology. Just bitterness and accusations. It stings, even more so because I hadn’t seen it coming. I guess love really does blind you.
Well, not anymore. I’ll be here if she wants to apologize, but until then I won’t be budging.
“Looks like it’s me and you, buddy,” I tell Baxter.
For how long, I don’t know. Maybe Emily and I will patch things up. Maybe we’ll never speak again.
That last possibility feels like a knife to my heart, but I refuse to let it bring me to my knees. I’m a Lennox. I run one of the biggest realty companies in the world. A little blip like this won’t take me down.
Even if it feels like I might die from the pain of it all.