Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Gayle had uploaded the photos to the shelter's Instagram account on Friday night, and by Saturday morning, she'd received two adoption inquiries for Presti.
Two families who'd seen the pictures of him mid-leap, mid-bark, mid-chaos, and wanted to meet him. Two families who thought he might be the perfect addition to their homes.
She should have been thrilled. This was the goal—finding permanent homes for the animals. This was what she worked toward every single day.
Instead, she felt something that tasted uncomfortably like dread.
She told herself it was professional anxiety. Presti needed to go to the right family. Just because two inquiries came in didn't mean either of them would be appropriate. She needed to do home visits, ask questions, make sure they could provide what he needed.
It had nothing to do with not wanting to take him back from Corey.
Gayle was still debating whether to call Corey or email him about the inquiries when her phone rang. His name on the screen made her heart do that annoying flutter.
"Hi," she answered, keeping her voice steady.
"Hey," Corey said. "I was hoping you'd have time to do something today. Nothing shelter-related. I just thought... Presti's been cooped up, and the Christmas market is setting up, and I wondered if you'd want to grab a hot chocolate downtown with us."
Gayle's stomach did a complicated flip. He was asking her out. Or at least, he was asking her to spend time with him outside of work. Which was the same thing, really.
"Corey, I—" She stopped, trying to find words that wouldn't hurt him. "I don't think that's a good idea."
There was a pause. "Why not?".
"I’m pretty busy at the shelter," she said instead. "And I need to keep things professional."
"It's hot chocolate, Gayle. It won’t take all day."
Despite herself, she almost smiled. "I know, but?—"
"But what?" His voice was gentle. "We're not allowed to be friendly outside of shelter business?"
"It's not about being friendly," Gayle said, and heard the frustration in her own voice. "It's about maintaining boundaries. I need to be able to make decisions about Presti without personal feelings getting in the way."
"Is that what this is about? You're worried personal feelings will cloud your judgment?" Corey sounded almost amused. "Gayle, I'm not trying to keep the puppy or rush you into finding him a home. I just want to spend time with you."
The words hung in the air between them, so honest and simple that Gayle didn't know how to respond.
"I can't," she said finally. "I'm sorry. But I can't."
"Okay," Corey said, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. "I understand."
He hung up after a few more awkward pleasantries, and Gayle immediately regretted the call. She immediately regretted refusing. She immediately wanted to call back and say yes.
She didn't.
Instead, she spent the afternoon doing home visits for the two families interested in Presti.
The first one had a toddler who seemed more interested in climbing on the furniture than interacting with a puppy.
The second was a couple with both of them working long hours outside the house.
How had they thought that adopting a puppy was a good idea? Both were unsuitable.
At least, that's what Gayle told herself. And Presti would get to stay with Corey a little longer.
The thought made her feel like a coward.
By Monday evening, Gayle was at the Palmar Island Community Center for a volunteer coordinator meeting.
The shelter needed more help, and the community center was sponsoring a volunteer fair in December.
She was sitting in the conference room reviewing logistics when Miss Doris walked in carrying a stack of folding chairs.
"Gayle, dear, would you help me with these?" Miss Doris asked, setting them down beside the table.
Gayle stood immediately, taking several chairs from her. "Of course."
They worked in companionable silence for a moment, setting up the chairs around the long table. But as they arranged the last few, Miss Doris paused and looked at Gayle with that knowing gaze that saw far too much.
"I saw Corey at the market on Saturday," Miss Doris said conversationally. "He had the sweetest puppy with him. They both looked a bit sad, though. I would have expected them to be happier."
Gayle busied herself straightening the chair she'd just placed. "They're fine. Just had a quiet day, I think."
"Mmm." Miss Doris sat down in one of the chairs, as though she planned to settle in for a longer conversation. "He seemed like he wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere with someone else, maybe."
"Miss Doris," Gayle said, not unkindly. "I appreciate your concern, but?—"
"But you’re shutting people out," Miss Doris interrupted gently. "Again."
Gayle felt her defenses rise automatically. "I'm not. I'm being practical. Professional."
"Practical." Miss Doris repeated the word like it was a small, sad thing. "Is that what we call it when we convince ourselves that isolation is safety?"
"I’m not isolating. I have the animals. I have the shelter."
"And do they keep you warm at night, dear?" Miss Doris's voice was soft but direct. "Do they hold your hand when you're scared? Do they make you feel less alone?"
"No," Gayle admitted. "But they don't just up and leave either."
Miss Doris was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Your ex-husband left because he was selfish and small-minded. But not every man is like that. And living a life afraid of being hurt is just a slower way of breaking yourself."
"I'm not—" Gayle started, but Miss Doris held up a hand.
"You and that young man have a connection, whether you like it or not. And from where I’m standing, he’s trying to make friends. And that scares you." Miss Doris stood, collecting her purse. “It shouldn’t.”
She left before Gayle could respond, leaving her sitting alone in the community center conference room, feeling like her insides had been turned inside out.
The other volunteers arrived a few minutes later, and Gayle went through the meeting on autopilot, not really hearing what was being said. All she could think about was Corey at the market with a sad puppy. All she could think about was Miss Doris's words.
By the time she drove home, Gayle felt hollowed out. She sat in her apartment with a cup of tea she didn't drink, thinking about boundaries and fear and the difference between protection and isolation.
She thought about calling Corey and apologizing. But what would she say? That she was terrified? That letting him in felt like giving up control in a way that would inevitably end in heartbreak?
That she'd rather be alone than risk loving something she might lose?
Instead, she pulled up the adoption applications one more time and tried to lose herself in work. But every time she looked at a photo of a family, she thought about whether they'd be good enough for Presti. Whether they'd love him the way Corey clearly did.