Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
“This really was a brilliant idea,” Anchor confessed, squatting beside a cooler as she filled it with bottles of water for the campers.
It was the final day of the final camp session, and everyone—campers and volunteers alike—buzzed with jittery excitement as they unpacked the van and set up their station at the farmer’s market.
Tobin scanned the bustling setup, noting how it had evolved over the summer.
Suggestions from volunteers and campers had shaped meaningful improvements for the humans and dogs alike.
The dog pen now had a variety of activities for the dogs, from pools to tunnels.
The booth itself had a new canopy emblazoned with a custom Fetch a Friend logo and QR codes for easy access to mobile adoption applications.
For the past several weeks, the rescue had adopted out at least three dogs at each Saturday farmers market event.
This new success had allowed them to postpone the fundraiser at Vinny’s.
The money from the camps and adoptions had provided the cushion they needed, giving them time to plan a less rushed event.
And they hoped moving the fundraiser to winter—in the absence of the camps and farmers market—would create an opportunity for funding when they’d need it more.
“You think you’ll do the camps again next summer?” Tobin asked, her eyes fixed over the lake, noting the colors of the changing sky above.
Anchor followed her gaze, hands on her hips as she scrutinized the cloud formations gathering over Lake Aetheridge.
Her brows furrowed. “Definitely. Maybe with the extra notice we’ll be able to add a few sessions, too.
” Her voice drifted, distracted by the sky.
“You think we’ll get anything?” she asked, nodding toward the distant thunderheads, a dubious expression in her eyes.
Tobin shivered as a gust of wind cut through the humid morning. The summer had been unusually dry. They hadn’t seen real rain in weeks—nothing substantial since the storm that rushed her and Grier off the hiking trail—and into each other’s arms.
“I hope so,” she responded solemnly.
They needed it. The mayor had issued fire warnings, and everyone knew the forest was basically a tinder box awaiting ignition. One misplaced flame and the forest—and Aetheridge proper—would be at risk of a Pompeii-like incineration.
Tobin’s eyes shifted to the dog pen, scanning the attachment points with practiced precision.
Satisfied, she and Anchor walked to the van to start unloading the dogs.
The pups were whining for attention, and Tobin was eager to dole out some scritches before everyone arrived, including Delta and Grier.
She settled onto the ground in the middle of the puppy pen, allowing the young pups to clamber over her legs for attention.
Her thoughts drifted to Grier, like they so often had in the last week.
Like they had for the last several months.
It wasn’t a new pattern for her, nor was it unexpected. But it was becoming uncomfortable.
Something had shifted between them. Tobin wasn’t quite certain if it was good or bad—only that it was different.
Her feelings for Grier hadn’t changed. She knew for certain she was in love with her. But she didn’t know for certain if she could survive losing her. And losing Grier would be unequivocally devastating.
The rest of the week had been a blur, and they hadn’t had much time to talk.
Work had been extraordinarily busy with rescues and transports.
But Grier had felt distant to Tobin since the night of the fireflies.
She’d confided in Tobin about Jonah’s readmission to the hospital, and Tobin knew that weighed heavily on her.
But it felt like there was more at play.
There was something not quite tangible that had nestled between them and settled like a snake, its tight coils cold and lithe, preparing to strike.
Grier hadn’t said she loved her again. And Tobin felt the absence of the words like a gaping wound in her chest.
The ache didn’t have time to settle before a brazen ball of tri-colored fur lunged into Tobin’s chest, nearly knocking the wind out of her with the ferocity of its leap. She loosed a surprised “oof!” just before her face and neck were assaulted by an eager tongue and a wave of hot puppy breath.
She couldn’t help but laugh. The mutt—already notorious among the volunteers and campers for his sneak-attack kisses—had been dubbed Smooch.
Tobin dug her fingers into his shaggy fur and puckered up for the onslaught. She giggled at his affection, and—not for the first time—considered how much she really did want to adopt a dog. It just wasn’t the right time.
“I didn’t know I could be jealous of a dog, but here we are.”
Grier’s teasing voice drifted from the volunteer table. Tobin turned to see a mischievous glint in her girlfriend’s eyes.
“What can I say? I’m in high demand!”
Tobin gently extricated herself from Smooch’s vigorous affection, ignoring his aggressive and overt whines of displeasure. She climbed over the pen and immediately drew Grier into her arms.
Gods, she felt good to hold again.
Grier was stiff at first, but Tobin felt her defenses wane and her posture soften with every passing second. This feeling—this ability to bring a calm to each other—it had to mean something, right? Because Tobin had never felt that before, either giving or receiving. And she knew it was mutual.
She felt the tension melt away from her own shoulders the longer she remained in Grier’s embrace.
If she thought about—and she really had—everything about Grier felt right.
Grier had confidently opened her arms to Tobin with the kind of quiet confidence that made it seem like she’d always known they’d fit together like this.
And in the warm comfort of those confident shoulders she loved so much, Tobin had subdued her defenses.
She’d let down her walls and invited Grier in.
She knew this was right. She knew that these moments, these thoughts—this overwhelming squeeze in the center of her chest— were good, and right, and perfect. And most importantly, they were theirs.
Tobin knew she could say it. And not only that she could, but she should. She should tell Grier how she felt. They should live in these moments—loud and free and in love. Lub dub, lub dub, in love.
She tipped her head down, bringing her lips to Grier’s ears,
“You’re the only one I want to kiss.”
Her fingertips found Grier’s chin, hooking under it to lift her face and align their eyes. “I’ve missed you this week.”
Grier’s eyes softened at the words, warmth blooming instantly— amber coils churning around darkened pupils. “Then I think you better kiss me to make up for lost time.”
She didn’t wait for Tobin’s reply, closing her eyes just as she closed the distance between their lips.
A chorus of “Ew!” and “Gross!” hit them in a matter of seconds, their PDA on full display for the campers who were blatantly ignoring their assigned duties in order to ogle them.
Tobin felt Grier smile into the kiss at the exact moment that her own lips curled into a giddy smirk. She wasn’t even embarrassed when a loud whistle rang out from several booths down the line.
“You are embarrassing me!” Delta scoffed.
Tobin looked at Grier, a smile still tugging at her lips—and a very important sentence tugging heavily at her heart. Her smile widened as her eyes searched Grier’s, tender and full of hope, searching for the comfort she needed to say it.
“Grier, I —”
Her confession was abruptly cut off by a metal clang cracking through the air, followed by a sudden flurry of fur and frantic movement.
Tobin swiveled her head, still holding onto Grier. The gated pen lay in pieces on the ground, caving after a camper had unknowingly unlatched the keystone piece.
The dogs scattered instantly with the noise of the crash, darting in every direction, tails wagging and paws scrambling with gleeful rebellion as they swarmed through the market.
“Tobin! Help!” Anchor shouted, dropping a tote of paperwork and immediately sprinting after the escaped dogs.
Tobin knew that if she didn’t get this situation controlled, they’d be chasing dogs all morning—risking injuries to dogs and humans. They needed to be calm and organized, and they needed to have a place to secure the dogs once they were collected.
She assessed, and started speaking before the plan was fully formulated. But there wasn’t time to idle with indecision.
“Anchor, no!” Tobin’s voice cut through the chaos. Anchor froze mid-stride, eyes flicking to her for direction.
“You stay with me,” Tobin ordered, already kneeling by the collapsed gate. “We need this pen reset or we’ll have no place to secure the dogs once we retrieve them.”
She snapped her gaze to Grier, who was already in motion, understanding her assignment before Tobin had to state it.
Grier gave her hand a quick squeeze, and gave voice to Tobin’s thoughts. “I’ll organize the campers and start rounding up the dogs. We’ll use kennels to hold them until the pen is ready.”
Tobin squeezed Grier’s hand in acknowledgment, then met Anchor at the pen in a matter of steps.
She dropped to one knee and hoisted a panel upright, securing it to the keystone piece that Anchor was already hefting.
They huffed in synchronized efforts, while they wordlessly moved from piece to piece, latching the locks with practiced efficiency.
In her peripheral vision, Tobin could see Grier delegating assignments to the campers, before briskly walking off with Delta.
They dispersed like trained search teams, fanning out in a coordinated sector pattern that would’ve impressed any SAR professional—leashes and treat bags in hand.
Tobin felt a flicker of pride swell in her chest.