Chapter 19 #2
The space smells faintly of cedar shavings and animal stench.
Sunlight spills through the front windows, reflecting on glass tanks lined with bright gravel and plastic castles.
There are rows of cages filled with colorful birds chirping softly at us and shelves stacked with pet toys shaped like bones, mice, and ropes.
A golden retriever mural stretches across one wall, its painted eyes reminding me of Sven, and I make a mental note to purchase a few toys and bones for him before we leave.
Annabelle’s head swivels in every direction as she takes it all in. I know she’s been in here several times before, but that’s the thing about childhood. The world is always exciting and full of fun new things to discover, no matter how many times you’ve entered the same space.
Maxinne leans down toward the counter. “Do you happen to have any cats or dogs?”
The woman behind the register brightens instantly.
“We do,” she says, already stepping around the counter. “We’ve got a few rescues in the back.”
Maxinne explains quickly, nodding toward Annabelle. “She had a rough fall a few minutes ago, and we thought some animal snuggles might make her feel better.”
“Well, animal therapy is the best kind,” the woman says with a grin. “Come on back.”
We follow her through a short hallway lined with framed photos of past adoptions.
Families are smiling together, kids holding onto leashes, and animals mid-lick.
A low gate separates us from a small play area layered with blankets and pillows.
Several barks echo from somewhere, followed by a soft meow.
Annabelle gasps when she sees the dogs and cats.
“Oh my goodness, they’re so cute,” Maxinne whispers.
The worker leads us through the gate, and we all take a seat.
She sets a small brown-and-white dog into Annabelle’s lap first, who immediately licks her.
Then, she places a gray cat with oversized ears into Maxinne’s arms. I’m handed a black puppy with paws too big for its body, its tail wagging happily.
I give it a pat and remind myself that one dog is enough for now, no matter how cute this little guy is.
“They just ate, so they’re in a cuddly mood. They might have an accident if they get too excited, so be careful.”
“Does that mean Annabelle gets to help clean it up?” I joke, trying not to laugh as Annabelle makes a disgusted face.
“Do I really have to?” she asks, her nose scrunched.
I shake my head, a laugh bursting out of me. “No, princess, I was only kidding.”
The worker chuckles before walking out of the room. We sit together on the floor, our laughter filling the space as the animals crawl, purr, and lick aimlessly. Annabelle’s earlier tears are now forgotten and replaced with delighted giggles.
“Uncle Z,” she says seriously, hugging the dog close, “I want to take him home.”
I glance at Maxinne, who’s watching Annabelle with a soft smile, the kitten in her lap kneading contentedly against her arm. “That’s something you’d have to talk to your daddy about,” I say.
Annabelle groans but quickly gets distracted when the little dog wiggles in her arms, licking her chin again.
Maxinne laughs softly, adjusting the kitten in her lap as it climbs higher, its tiny claws catching gently in the fabric of her shirt. “I think she likes me.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching as the kitten settles against her. “Sven will be jealous.”
She glances up at me then, her smile softening a little. “He has nothing to worry about. My heart is all his.”
“Oh yeah?” I lean in closer. Our knees brush, and it’s a fleeting contact that somehow lingers longer than it should.
“Yeah.” She nods as the kitten stretches, one tiny paw pressing against my leg as it shifts closer to her, bridging the space between us.
I reach out and give it a scratch behind the ears. “That’s good to know.”
Her eyes linger on mine for a moment before she dips her chin, returning her attention to the kitten.
Across the room, Annabelle lets out another burst of laughter, shattering the moment.
Maxinne exhales and glances over her shoulder.
“We should probably make sure she doesn’t walk out of here with the dog. ”
“Probably,” I agree, but I don’t move away.
The worker checks in after a bit, giving Annabelle a gentle reminder that the animals have to stay for now, which Annabelle accepts with surprising maturity. She presses one last kiss to the dog’s head before we give them back to the worker.
Eventually, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Raine
We’re home.
“Hey,” I say gently. “Your mommy and daddy are home.”
Annabelle nods then looks up at Maxinne. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Maxinne leans down and hugs her. “Anytime.”
I grab my items for Sven before we leave, the bell chiming again once we step back out into the evening sun. Annabelle skips ahead a few steps, humming to herself, no longer aware of the cuts on her knees.
Gratitude overwhelms me as I look at Maxinne and reach for her hand. I give it a squeeze, and she peers up at me, a small grin taking over her face.
“Thank you.”
Her expression softens. “It was nothing.”
“It was so much more than you know. You didn’t only help with her cuts. You helped her heart too.”
She shrugs, but there’s something thoughtful in her eyes. “Sometimes we need to make sure we heal both.”
“Daddy, can I show Maxinne the chickens?” Annabelle asks as soon as we arrive at the farm, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Yeah, of course,” Ryland tells her, grinning as they walk off, hand in hand, toward the chicken coop.
We stand on the porch, the old wood creaking beneath our boots as we move. Annabelle cradles a chicken against her chest while she shows Maxinne the garden. Maxinne crouches down, listening to Annabelle intently, her fingers brushing the leaves of plants as she moves.
She’s lost in her own little world, and I can’t help but stare, completely transfixed.
I don’t think there’s anything in my life that has consumed me as wholly as it seems that plants do for Maxinne.
I’ve noticed it every time we’ve gone hiking, when we’re by the lake, even during moments by the bonfire.
It’s mesmerizing, watching her so clearly in her element, as if I’m witnessing her step fully into who she was always meant to be. Being around Maxinne, without any effort on her part, has breathed life and hope back into my world.
When I look over at my brother, he’s studying me with a knowing expression on his face.
“She’s been good for you.” He clamps a hand down on my shoulder, giving me a little shake.
I don’t deny it, because he’s right. She has been.
It’s rare for me to feel this connected to another person. Since the very first moment she ran into me, I’ve been drawn to her. And as we’ve settled into friendship, I’ve been intrigued by her in a way that defies explanation.
I understand we’ve only known each other for a little over a month now.
It’s easier to think that whatever this is between us is only infatuation and not something stronger.
But infatuation is about only seeing an idealized version of someone.
It’s built on illusion. And nothing about my experience with Maxinne has been idealized.
She’s, admittedly, drop-dead gorgeous, but I don’t want some polished, glamorized version of her.
I like the real one. The one who tosses her hair into a messy braid, who isn’t afraid to walk around barefaced, comfortable in her own skin.
Someone who puts others before herself and whose heart seems to instinctively look for ways to love people well.
That’s the version of her I’m drawn to, and that’s what scares me the most, because wanting that means I’m no longer admiring her from a safe distance.
Instead, I want to reach out, anchor myself to her, and never let go.
It means I want her woven into my life, not only passing through it, and I’m not sure what that means for us.
I turn toward my brother, my chest tightening as the truth settles deep inside my gut, and my brows draw together as I admit the truth out loud.
“I think I’m falling for her.”