Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Alex
Snow covers everything like a shroud, softening the world and concealing the decay beneath.
It makes everything appear pure and untouched, blanketed in a peaceful stillness.
It feels as though the earth is purging itself beneath a blanket of bleached white, waiting for spring's rains to wash it clean again before summer's heat dries what remains.
I used to think of it that way when I first arrived here—a simple cycle of death and rebirth etched into the turning seasons.
I’d spent my whole life in Texas, where the seasons don’t change in quite the same way.
But living in New England teaches you to appreciate them in fleeting, vivid bursts.
Just when you’ve had enough of one, it changes, bringing with it something new.
Another abrupt version of the world becomes painted in different colors.
Nature seems to be constantly reinventing itself, or maybe just burying what came before.
Maybe that's why this morning feels like a reset. The world outside is bleached and still, the road laced with a dusting of fresh-fallen snow. Rose sits beside me, scrolling through her phone, her voice filling the car as she talks about meeting Chelsea for lunch after our shift at the shelter. I nod at the right moments, keeping my eyes on the road. We’ll work the morning together, and afterward, I’ll drop her off.
She says she’ll find a ride back so we can meet up later and head home together.
Everyone’s back in town now. Another week, and everything starts again.
Rose has classes and clinicals. I have classes too.
Our happy bubble is coming to an end, and I can’t shake the feeling that something precious is already being taken from me before I’ve had the chance to fully grasp it.
The tires crunch over gravel as I pull into the lot, the shelter coming into view through the thin layer of snow still clinging to the ground. I barely get the car in park before Rose is already moving. She couldn’t wait to get here this morning to see her favorite furry friend.
“You’re not even going to wait for me?” I call after her, stepping out and shutting the door, teasing her.
She turns halfway to the entrance, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and her eyes bright in a way that I’ve come to love. A sly smile spreads across her face. “I’m just excited to see my favorite good boy,” she winks.
I stop, stiffening. “You take that back right now.” I point at her as she laughs and darts toward the door. “That’s not even a joking matter.”
I catch up to her easily, my hand finding hers without thinking as we step inside.
The warmth hits first, then the familiar chorus of barking.
Except something’s off. We’re usually greeted by a constant bark that almost sounds like a howl.
Today, it’s missing. Rose notices it, too. She glances at me before calling out.
“Callie?” She’s already scanning the room, expecting him to come running in any second. Callie appears from the back, her face lighting up when she sees us.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite people.”
I take Rose’s jacket and mine, heading toward the back to drop them off, but I don’t get far before I hear it.
“Where’s Watson?”
I pause. Something in the way Callie hesitates makes my nerves fray. I turn back immediately.
Callie’s smile falters just slightly, but it’s enough. I’m beside Rose in an instant, my hand tightening around hers.
“What?” I ask, already bracing for her answer.
Callie exhales. “He was adopted.”
She says the words, and they land exactly as intended. Rose folds inward beside me. “Right,” she says softly. “That’s good.”
It is. That’s the point. But I feel it, too, the sharp and hollow pang of disappointment.
He should have been ours. I thought about adopting him more times than I can count.
I figured we’d do it together when we got back, or at least start the conversation about it.
Maybe even today. Now that chance is gone.
I move closer, still holding her hand. I’m not sure if I’m supporting her or myself at this point.
Callie watches us for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then she speaks again. “Don’t look so disappointed just yet.”
Rose looks up. “What do you mean?"
Callie smiles, more certain this time. “He’s coming back.”
I blink. “What?”
“Didn’t work out,” she shrugs. “They weren’t ready for him. Said he was too temperamental. Too growly.” She snorts. “Called him a ‘nipper.’ He’ll be back this afternoon.”
Rose turns to me so fast, and suddenly we have our second chance. Hope radiates from her.
“He’s coming back,” she says, almost as if she’s afraid saying it too loud might ruin it.
I nod once. That’s all it takes.
“We’re not missing it this time,” I say. “This is our second chance.”
Because I remember the way he looked at her. The way he followed her, yet barely tolerated everyone else. Me, too. The way he chose us. You don’t walk away from something like that twice.
Callie crosses her arms, watching us. “Figured you’d say that,” she says. “He never stopped looking for you after you left for Texas. Both of you."
I catch Rose's eye, a subtle glance between us, maybe this isn’t a coincidence at all. Maybe it was meant to be.
My arm slides around her waist, pulling her closer as we settle into work, filling time until he returns.
When the door finally opens, I don’t need to look. The howl says everything.
“Watson,” Rose breathes. He breaks free at her voice. The handler barely has time to react before Watson bolts forward, leash dragging behind him as he closes the distance in seconds, coming straight to her. I don’t blame him. Me, too, buddy.
He jumps, paws landing against her. His tail wags so hard his whole body moves with it. His bark melts into that familiar, continuous howl.
Rose drops to her knees without hesitation, laughing softly as she wraps her arms around him. “Hey, buddy. I missed you, too,” she coos into his fur. He’s unable to contain himself. His nose presses into her neck, her shoulder, her face, trying to make sure it’s her and she’s real.
“I think he’s finally found what he’s been looking for.” I exhale slowly, watching it all. “I understand the feeling.”
Callie steps up beside me. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “About what I expected.”
I let out something close to a laugh, but my eyes stay on them. I watch the way Rose looks at him, and the way he looks at her. They’ve already decided.
Rose glances back at me, still kneeling with her hand buried in his fur. Her eyes are bright. “We can’t let him go again."
I don’t hesitate. “We’re not.” The words come out easily and final as I look at Callie.
She doesn’t look surprised, just pleased. “I’ll start the paperwork.”
“Do it,” I say. Because there’s nothing left to figure out.
Watson relaxes just enough to press himself into Rose, his tail still wagging, and his head resting against her shoulder.
I know he’s already decided, too, that this is it.
This is home. And watching them, standing there in the middle of it, I realize something I didn’t expect.
It’s not just about a dog. It’s about what we’re choosing together. Our family.
Rose stands slowly, with Watson staying glued to her side. Her hand finds mine. I look down at it, then back at her. At Watson, and our moment. “Guess we’re not leaving empty-handed,” I murmur.
Rose smiles. “No. Definitely not his time.”
Callie disappears behind the counter to grab the adoption paperwork for us.
Watson doesn’t leave Rose’s side. Not even a step, as his body stays pressed firmly against her leg.
I lean against the counter, watching them as Callie flips through the forms, glancing up every now and then with a small, knowing smile.
“You two just made his year,” she says, sliding the papers toward me. “Maybe mine, too, with an adoption in the first week of the new year.”
I take the pen and sign where she points without hesitation. Callie doesn’t need to do a home visit because we live in the same complex as they do, and she’s seen firsthand how we are with Watson. She knows we won’t be bringing him back.
“Glad we could help,” I mutter, a small smile tugging at my lips.
She pauses then, tapping the edge of the clipboard, debating asking something. “Actually…” Her eyes move between us. “There’s something else you could help Denver and me with.”
Rose looks up immediately. “What?”
Callie smiles, a little brighter this time.
“We're putting together a fundraiser for the shelter.
A five-mile run to raise money, bring awareness, and get more people involved.
We've been planning it for months, but we could really use help promoting it.” Her eyes flick to Watson before returning to us.
“People connect to stories, and you've got a good one.”
“I’ll do it,” Rose says instantly.
I don't know why I expected any other answer.
“What would we need to do?” she asks.
“You'd run, raise sponsorships, and help spread the word,” Callie says. “That's really all we're asking.”
Rose’s hand tightens in Watson’s fur. I already know that look. She’s made up her mind.
Then Callie looks at me. “And you?”
I don't answer right away because I already know what I'm not doing. “Running isn't really my thing,” I admit.
She smiles. “Then help at the finish line. Cheer Rose on, hand out water, keep things organized. We always need people making sure the runners are taken care of.”
Control. That, I can do. I nod once. “Yeah. I can do that.”
But it’s more than that. I glance at Rose again, already picturing it. She’s running, pushing herself, crossing that finish line. And I, waiting there for her. Making sure everything’s ready when she gets there.
“I’ll make sure no one gets overlooked,” I add. “And no one gets hurt.”
Callie studies me for a second, something approving in her expression. “That’s exactly what we need.”
Rose looks between us, a soft smile forming. Watson lets out a small huff at her side, his tail brushing lightly against her leg, adding his own approval. Callie gathers the signed papers, tapping them into place.
“Alright,” she says, “looks like you just adopted a dog, and signed yourself up for something bigger.” She beams, but her eyes linger on me, and I know she's not just talking about the race. We’re saying yes to more than that.
We’re saying yes to showing up for each other, and for whatever comes next.