Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Alex
Iarrive at the animal shelter just before nine.
The morning air is chilled, thick with swollen clouds, carrying with it the promise of snow or rain at any moment.
It turns everything into a dull shade of grey.
It should feel dreary or oppressive, even.
But my mood is anything but. For some reason, I woke with a restless excitement I couldn't explain.
Placing my car in park, I take in the lot that houses the Upper Valley animal shelter.
The building looks less like a facility and more like a cozy home, with a wide yard stretching toward a low line of mountains in the distance.
I hadn’t realized it was so close to my house.
Close enough that we share the same small corner of town.
The shelter sits tucked at the end of a sleepy residential street, almost hidden away from the traffic of the interstate.
The exterior is weathered, but carefully maintained.
A black chain-link fence encloses the backyard, cleared of leaves despite the steady fall of them drifting down all around as winter approaches.
I rub my hands together and bring them to my mouth.
My warm breath spills into the cold air in puffs of pale white clouds.
Movement catches my attention as a dog trots after a ball as I walk across the lot.
He stops short, one front paw lifting as he sniffs the air before meeting my gaze.
His oversized floppy ears frame his face in a way that makes the beagle look both regal and faintly ridiculous.
He tilts his head, tail wagging with cautious curiosity.
A firm but affectionate female voice calls from behind him, telling him to bring the ball back.
He obeys, bounding forward, dropping it at the handler’s feet, and eagerly accepting a treat.
Laughter follows when he immediately scoops the ball up again, only to drop it once more without fetching it first, clearly expecting another reward in the form of a dog treat.
A chuckle escapes me, and I appreciate his persistence.
The handler opens the bag, her back turned away from me as she shakes it, but nothing comes out.
A painted sign swings in the cold breeze as I bury my head into my hoodie and walk toward the entrance of the building, anxious to get inside and out of the cold.
I’m not used to this cold climate, having lived in Texas my whole life, and I don’t see how anyone can acclimate to it.
My once sun-kissed skin now suffers as my vitamin D levels plummet due to a lack of sun exposure.
I’m eager to get back to warmer temperatures, already looking forward to winter break, when Texas will still feel warmer than here.
As I open the door, I notice shelter workers, walk in and out, carrying food bowls and leashes.
Their voices are soft and patient toward the animals.
The slightly medicinal smell of antiseptic mixes with the undertones of aloe and oatmeal, giving the place a sense of calm as the cared-for animals thrive under their gentle hands.
Kennels line the walls, and mostly, dogs peer at me through the cages with curious and wary eyes.
Who knows what these animals have seen? Have they come from loving homes where their owner was forced to surrender them, or have they only ever known the confines of a small crate meant to restrain rather than house?
Some bark while others curl into blankets or nuzzle stuffed toys placed inside to provide comfort.
The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clatter of carts carrying food and cleaning supplies.
The worn linoleum bears countless scratches from paws that have crossed it over the years.
The staff kneel to scratch ears, offer treats, or speak soothing words to alleviate the anxiety of some of the animals.
Despite the occasional whine, the place radiates with care, and a sanctuary of safety and trust blooms between the staff and the sheltered animals.
As I approach the main desk, I spot Callie heading toward it, her gaze glancing up to the clock on the wall. “Hey,” I say, lifting a hand in greeting as I walk up to her.
She spins toward me, her eyes lighting in delight.
“You made it,” she chimes, practically vibrating, restraining the urge to break out into jazz hands.
She’s just that type of person—bright, effervescent, and radiating happiness.
A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I lift my hand again.
She clasps hers together, barely containing her excitement.
“I’m so glad you came. And punctual, too. I love that,” she says, already beckoning me forward. “Come on. Let me show you around.”
I follow her down a hallway past a small staff break room, the faint smell of coffee and toast lingering in the air, before she leads us out to the backyard.
The same beagle is out there, nose pressed to the ground, sniffing with intense concentration, as if the grass contains the secrets only it’s privy to.
The beagle’s tail wags in quick, determined bursts, ears flopping as he trots in circles around the yard.
Every so often, he pauses, glances up, and then resumes his investigation, wholly absorbed in whatever invisible trail he’s decided holds the utmost importance.
I point. “What a good-looking dog,” I say, taking in the adult animal before me.
One ear twitches while the other stays folded over as he turns toward me and ambles over.
I crouch down to meet it, extending my hand so that the beagle can sniff and scent me.
The dog flops onto its back, paws dangling in the air.
I notice it’s a male. Callie frowns at him while I scratch his chest, then run my hand over his soft ears.
When I glance up and see her expression, I straighten at once. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
Callie doesn’t answer right away. She just watches the dog, lips pressed into a thin line, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “He doesn’t usually do that,” she says finally.
“Roll over for attention?” I glance down at him. His tail thumps lazily across the grass. “Seems friendly enough,” I quip, not understanding the line of questioning.
“That’s just it.” Her voice lowers. “He’s not.”
I look back at the dog. He’s still sprawled at my feet, completely relaxed, blinking up at me like I’ve known him forever.
“He doesn’t care for strangers much,” she continues. “Definitely won’t go near new people. Sometimes he growls if they get too close.”
As if on cue, the dog rolls onto its side and nudges my hand with its nose, asking for more. I hesitate before scratching behind his ear again. “Maybe I just have one of those faces," I shrug.
But Callie doesn’t smile. “He wouldn’t even let the vet touch him last week,” she says. “Even with the promise of treats.”
“Smart dog,” I quip. The dog sighs—an oddly content, almost human sound, pressing closer against my leg. A faint chill runs through me. “Well, maybe he’s changed his mind today about the human species.”
Callie kneels, watching him as though she expects him to snap at me any moment. Instead, his gaze stays fixed on me. There is no eagerness or playfulness now. Just a look of intent. Her hand hovers over his collar, but doesn’t touch it. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing,” I reply. “Just called him a good-looking dog.”
The beagle’s ears twitch. Callie studies my face, searching for some answer before she looks back at him. “He only acts this way with one other person. I think she says that, too. And when—” She stops herself.
“When what?” I ask. The dog suddenly rolls upright in one swift motion. There’s no tail wagging now or soft playfulness from before. He stands very still between us with his head slightly lowered and eyes locked on mine as if awaiting my command.
Callie’s voice drops to a whisper, “When he recognizes someone.”
A breeze moves through the yard, rustling the leaves that have fallen around the fence. I feel the coldness on the back of my neck as I shudder at the sensation.
“Well, I’ve never been here before,” I say adamantly.
She doesn’t answer. The dog steps forward and lightly places its nose against my palm.
“He remembers scents,” she murmurs. “People he’s met, or places he’s been.” Her eyes lift to mine.
Something tightens in my chest. “That’s not possible. I swear, I’ve never met this dog before.” What the fuck? “O-kay…” I say slowly.
She stares at me for a moment. Then Callie snorts.
I blink. “What?”
She breaks into a grin, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”
The tension drains out of the moment almost instantly.
“He just wants a treat,” she adds, “but he also isn’t very friendly, especially with new people. That was the truth.”
The dog starts wagging again as if nothing just happened. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “What’s his name?”
She smiles at me, her mind miles away, before answering. “Watson,” she says as he angles his head to look at her.
“Watson,” I repeat, as his big ears perk up. “Good boy, Watson,” I coo as I scratch his underbelly, his back foot lifts and shakes in the air reflexively, but the rest of him stays still. A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
Callie watches me closely now. Studying me, witnessing the dog react to me this way.
“You know…” she says slowly, her voice thoughtful. “I think he likes you,” she comments, causing my chest to tighten.
She straightens, but her attention moves past me. Someone is approaching across the yard with a bag in hand. Her expression changes. “But…” she adds, lowering her voice like she’s telling me a secret. “You might have a hard time adopting him.”
Watson presses closer against my leg. “One of the handlers here is very attached to Watson,” she finishes, her eyes moving between him and me.
His weight against my leg had been a warm presence, but I immediately feel the loss of him as he moves away from me, trotting toward the woman approaching across the yard. I follow his movements, and then I look up.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, the words escaping my lips, leaving me breathless.
Rose stands in front of me, a full bag of treats in her hand.
My pulse quickens as every detail of her sharpens into impossible clarity.
She watches me with curiosity, trying to figure out why I’m here.
But there’s something else there, too. Suspicion.
Her eyes move from me to Callie, then back again.
Her expression gives almost nothing away, but I can see the calculation forming in her mind.
She thinks I followed her. Or maybe she thinks I stalked her.
The answer would be irrevocably yes. But this time, I had no idea.
After a month of searching the campus for her, she appears without me having to lift a finger.
I didn’t know she worked here. Living this close to me isn't coincidence.
And for once, fate is on my side. Awareness prickles beneath my skin.
The same pull that makes my pulse fall in sync with her breathing, even from a distance that feels entirely too far for my liking. The certainty sinks deep into my bones.
Mine. Not because I wish to possess her, but because something deep within me recognizes her. Our souls are colliding in another predestined embrace.
I couldn’t be more pleased. Careful not to reveal too much, I turn and smile at Callie, letting the moment linger just short enough to feel casual.
But from the corner of my eye, I see Rose tense.
It’s so slight that most would miss it. I would’ve if I wasn’t so attuned to her.
The way her shoulders tighten slightly or her jaw tenses.
Her attention narrows in a way that feels territorial.
It’s controlled, but unmistakable. Most likely from years of practice.
The bond is there between us, claiming her even if she refuses to acknowledge it yet.
A slow, dark certainty settles within me.
My breathing grows uneven, but my thoughts remain patient and unyielding.
I lean slightly, my voice barely louder than a breath meant only for her.
There's an unspoken awareness between us that neither of us can explain.
She doesn't have to believe it yet. I know what I felt the moment she walked through my parents' front door.
“Don’t worry, baby,” I murmur. Something darker and more certain solidifies inside me. “I don’t have eyes for anyone but you.”