Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Belle
The house was too quiet.
I lay on top of the covers, still dressed, and stared at the ceiling like it might give me answers if I looked long enough.
It was Christmas Eve.
I hated that fact more than I wanted to admit.
Pepper had claimed my pillow like he always did, with his chin resting near my temple, eyes open and watchful. Salt was stretched along my legs, his solid weight anchoring me to the bed like he knew if he moved, I might drift apart completely.
He let out a low whimper.
I blinked and glanced down at him. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
Salt didn’t answer. He just shifted slightly and pressed closer, like he could physically hold me together.
Pepper lifted his head and gave a soft whine of agreement.
I exhaled slowly.
“Do you miss him too?” I asked quietly, my voice sounding strange in the dim room. “Do you miss Saint?”
Pepper’s head snapped up. His ears perked. His nub wiggled uncontrollably.
I let out a weak laugh. “Easy, boy.”
Salt made a soft sound in his throat, something between a sigh and a huff, and I could swear it was disappointment.
“I know,” I murmured. “I know.”
The truth was, I missed him too. I missed the way he filled a room without trying. The way he noticed things. The way he stood between me and the world like it was instinct, not obligation.
And that was exactly the problem.
I rolled onto my side, facing Pepper, and stroked the soft fur at his neck. “I’m mad at him,” I said out loud, because saying it silently wasn’t enough anymore. “I’m really mad.”
Pepper blinked slowly, unimpressed.
“I get why he did it,” I continued, as my fingers traced absent patterns through his fur. “I do. I understand it. He saw a problem and fixed it. That’s how his brain works.”
Salt shifted again, and his paw pressed lightly into my thigh.
“But it wasn’t his problem to fix,” I whispered. “It was mine.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I needed to do it myself. Not because I wanted to suffer, but because it was the only way I knew how to survive.”
Pepper huffed softly, as his nose nudged my cheek, like he was telling me to keep going.
“I’ve spent my whole life cleaning up after other people,” I said, as my voice broke just a little. “If I didn’t do it, no one else would. And if someone did step in… it always came with strings. Expectations. Guilt.”
I swallowed hard.
Saint hadn’t done that.
And somehow, that made it worse.
“He didn’t ask for anything,” I whispered. “He didn’t want repayment. He didn’t want control. He just… did it.”
Salt’s breathing slowed even more, deep and steady. He trusted Saint. Of course he did. Dogs always knew.
“And that scares me,” I admitted. “Because if I let him do things like that, if I let him take care of me, what happens if he leaves?”
Pepper let out a soft whine and pressed closer.
“I know,” I murmured. “I don’t want him to. I don’t want to push him away,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want him thinking he can make choices about my life without me either. Even if he’s doing the right thing.”
Because that was the part that hurt the most.
Saint wasn’t wrong.
He was just… ahead of me.
I dragged in a shaky breath. “I need to talk to him,” I said, more firmly now. “I need him to hear me. To understand that I want him with me, not in front of me.”
Pepper bumped me with his nose, like he approved of this plan.
Salt lifted his head just enough to look at me, then settled back down with a satisfied huff.
“I don’t want to lose him,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to lose myself either.”
The room stayed quiet, holding my confession without judgment.
Then, uninvited, Mary’s voice slipped into my thoughts.
If you don’t come, it’ll ruin Christmas.
I huffed a breath that was half laugh, half sigh. “She really believes that, you know.”
Pepper tilted his head.
“I think she believes a lot of things,” I said softly. “And maybe… maybe she’s not wrong.”
The idea of walking into Mary’s house tomorrow still made my stomach flutter with nerves. But it didn’t feel like pressure anymore.
It felt like an opening.
Saint had stood on my porch tonight and poured his heart out through a closed door.
I owed him more than silence.
“I’m going,” I said quietly, the decision settling deep and sure. “I’m going to Christmas.”
Pepper barked once, sharp and pleased.
Salt’s nub thumped against the mattress.
I smiled for the first time all night.
“Do you boys want to come with me?” I asked.
Both looked at me expectantly.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.” We were all going to Mary’s tomorrow.
I reached out and turned off the lamp. Pepper resettled on my pillow, and Salt shifted until his weight pressed against me again.
Tomorrow, I would face Saint.
Tomorrow, I would tell him how I felt.
And for the first time in a long while, Christmas didn’t feel like something I had to survive.
It felt like something I might actually get to enjoy.