Chapter 33
The shelter smelled like disinfectant and old blankets and the quiet, stubborn persistence of creatures who had every reason to give up on people and somehow hadn't. Sutton had always loved animals for how they just kept loving you back, even when the evidence suggested they probably shouldn't.
Lynlee pressed her face to the glass of the first kennel, breath fogging it instantly.
“They’re all sad,” she whispered, like the dogs might hear her and feel worse about it.
Sutton crouched beside her. “They’re not sad,” she said gently. “They’re just waiting.”
“For what?”
“For someone to notice them.”
Lynlee considered that, then moved down the row with purpose, tiny sneakers squeaking against the concrete. She stopped short at the very end, where the noise dropped off. No frantic barking or jumping, just a large, gray-muzzled mutt curled on a bed, eyes half-lidded but alert.
“Dis one,” Lynlee said immediately.
Sutton blinked. “Honey, we haven’t even looked at—”
“Dis one,” Lynlee repeated, already kneeling. “He’s an old soul. He knows stuff.”
The dog lifted his head, tail giving a single, tentative thump, and Sutton’s throat tightened. Of course she’d pick the oldest one. The one who wasn’t performing. The one who wasn’t trying to be chosen.
Behind them, a voice said, “You’ve got good taste.”
Sutton turned to find Aiden leaning against the counter, clipboard tucked under one arm, smile easy and unapologetic. He had that effortless confidence of someone who liked people and knew they liked him back.
“Hey, Sutton,” he said in greeting, then looked at Lynlee. “You just made Walter’s entire week.”
“Walter?” Lynlee echoed, delighted. “That’s a people name.”
“He’s very dignified,” Aiden said solemnly. “Eats slow. Judges quietly. Has strong opinions about naps.”
Walter’s tail thumped again, as if in agreement.
Sutton smiled despite herself. “We’re doing the adopt-a-dog-for-the-day program. Take him to the park, play fetch, maybe even have a dog-friendly treat.”
A box from Critter Couture had been waiting on her porch when Sutton got home, and she’d felt a ridiculous little thrill crack through her chest when she saw the logo on the side.
Her friend had stuffed it with samples—bandanas, ridiculously soft leashes, sweaters and Hawaiian shirts—and Sutton couldn’t wait to try them on an actual, breathing, tail-wagging animal instead of an AI-generated dog.
Testing designs on a real dog felt like a small but important milestone, proof that this fundraiser she was planning was inching out of the idea phase and into something tangible.
She glanced at Walter, already curled up like he owned the place, and smiled.
Well, she thought, if you’re going to be my test subject, at least you have excellent taste.
“I’d also like to play a little dress up, do a photo shoot for Paws for the Cause and put it on the clinic’s socials. Help him get noticed,” Sutton said. “If he’s up for it.”
Aiden’s gaze softened when he looked back at the dog. “He’s always up for it. Doesn’t get picked much, but he perks right up when he leaves the building.” Then his eyes flicked back to Sutton, assessing in a way that felt curious, not invasive. “You a regular hero, or is this your first time?”
“First,” she said. “We’re easing in.”
“Smart.” He crouched down to Lynlee’s level. “You got experience with dogs, boss?”
Lynlee crossed her arms. “I had a goldfish once, but he was rude.”
“Walter’s very polite. You two will get along.” He held out his fist. “Knuckles?”
Lynlee bumped her fist against his, instantly sold.
Sutton caught the look Aiden sent her—warm, appreciative, a little flirty. Not aggressive, just interested.
“How is Mama Dog?” Sutton asked, because she’d been thinking about that sweet dog ever since they dropped her and her puppies off at the shelter.
“Mama Dog and her pups are being fostered by one of our top foster families.”
“She is?” Sutton asked, surprised at just how thick the emotion in her throat was.
“Yup. They should be old enough for adoption by the time of the fundraiser.”
“That’s wonderful,” Sutton said, placing a hand to her lips.
Walter seemed to second her opinion because he gave a happy bark. Aiden opened the cage door and Lynlee was immediately on her knees hugging the dog.
“So,” Aiden said. “Single mom?”
She stiffened a fraction, then relaxed when his tone stayed light, respectful.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said easily. “I’m into single moms.”
“Is that your official shelter line?”
“Nope. Just honesty.” He grinned. “You tend to know who you are. I like that.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Bold strategy. Does it work?”
“You tell me,” he said, unfazed.
Sutton studied him for a beat—easy smile, kind eyes, confident without being loud, the kind of man who remembered names and meant it when he asked how your day was. He was, objectively, the right kind of man. Safe. Charming. Available.
So why didn’t she feel even a flicker of awareness? No zing. No pull. Not even the faint hum of interest.
The realization settled uncomfortably in her chest. It wasn’t him and it was her. It was worse, in the most inconvenient, immovable way, as if her bar for men had already been set somewhere else, and no amount of perfectly acceptable was going to clear it.
“Well,” she said lightly. “Walter’s not dating anyone, so let’s ask him.”
Aiden laughed, easy and genuine, but his eyes stayed on Sutton a beat longer than necessary—like he’d noticed the way her smile had come out a little too smoothly.
He glanced down at Walter. “No offense, buddy, but you’re already emotionally unavailable.”
Walter thumped his tail once.
Aiden looked back at Sutton, tone still light but not careless. “Besides, first dates are overrated,” he added. “Now, walks, snacks, low expectations—that’s usually where the good stuff happens.”
“Low expectations I can do,” she said. “They’re kind of my specialty.” The words slipped out easier than she meant them to, honest in a way she usually avoided. “Walks and snacks sound better than most plans anyway.”
Aiden’s smile tilted, something more thoughtful edging in. “Yeah,” he said. “They leave room for you to just be.”
She nodded, that practiced smile flickering back into place even though nothing underneath it stirred.
“Just being is underrated,” she said lightly, like it was just another observation.
That was when he’d said it—quiet, unassuming, like a truth he’d learned the hard way.
“I’ve learned if you start by pretending to be someone else, you end up dating the lie.”
The words lodged in Sutton’s chest, jagged and unwelcome.
Because hadn’t that been her entire life in Bridlewood?
One careful edit after another. A softer version of the truth.
A story told just convincingly enough that no one asked the questions she didn’t want to answer.
She’d built a life on omissions—about Lynlee, about how she’d ended up here, about the parts of herself she’d sanded down to fit.
If Aiden was right, if pretending always came with a cost, then what did that mean for her and Lynlee? For the town she wanted to call home, the routines they’d stitched together, the future she was trying so hard to make safe?
The thought made her stomach twist. Because if the foundation was a lie, sooner or later it would crack. And she didn’t know whether she was more afraid of it breaking or of what might happen if she finally told the truth.
Before Sutton could respond, Lynlee tugged on Aiden’s sleeve. “Do you have snacks for Walter?”
Aiden’s grin widened. “I absolutely do.” He leaned closer and stage-whispered, “But only for dogs who promise not to steal socks.”
Walter farted.
“Deal,” Lynlee said seriously.
Paperwork took five minutes, and Aiden explained the routine, handed over a leash, a bag of treats, and a worn blue blanket. And his number—just in case.
“He likes car rides,” he added. “Window cracked. Country music preferred.”
Sutton laughed. “Of course.”
As they headed for the door, Aiden called after them. “Bring him back tired and happy.”
Lynlee beamed. “We will!”
Outside, Walter paused, lifted his face to the sun, and breathed like he’d been holding it in for a long time.
Sutton watched him, something familiar and aching settling in her chest. Just for the day, she thought. Just enough time to belong somewhere.
Lynlee slipped her hand into Sutton’s. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, pumpkin?”
“I think he picked us too.”
Sutton squeezed her hand. “I think you’re right.”