22. Sophie #2
He’d made his choice, whether I liked it or not. He’d walked away without so much as looking back. Funny how boots on a tile floor could sound so final.
Without one word. Without one explanation. Without even answering the only question I’d cared about.
Where are the animals?
The fact that I still didn’t know felt like a pebble in my shoe—small enough to ignore for a minute but impossible to ignore forever.
I wrapped both hands tighter around my mug. The warmth seeped into my fingers, and I wished emotional clarity worked the same way.
Maybe I’d imagined the kiss. Not the physical part. That would’ve been a genuinely fascinating medical condition.
Not literally. That would’ve been concerning. Probably worthy of professional evaluation.
But maybe I’d imagined what it meant. Maybe I’d assigned subtitles to a conversation that had never actually happened.
Maybe I’d mistaken attraction for possibility. They weren’t the same thing. I’d known that for years. Knowledge and application were distant cousins who rarely spoke.
Maybe I’d looked at one good moment and started building an entire future on top of it. Human brains were ridiculous that way. One meaningful glance, and suddenly you were mentally picking out throw pillows.
Again. Classic Sophie. Build the house before checking whether the foundation existed. I didn’t even build houses anymore. I practically skipped straight to choosing paint colors and arguing about where we’d put the Christmas tree.
Well, lesson learned. Painful. Embarrassing. Mildly humiliating. But learned.
Captain Competent had been exactly that.
Competent. Professional. The kiss had been a mistake, a very, very nice mistake. Possibly one of history’s better mistakes. Certainly more enjoyable than accidentally sending an email to the wrong person.
Still, a mistake. Some things could be both wonderful and wrong at exactly the same time. Life seemed annoyingly fond of those combinations.
I wasn’t going to waste another second trying to decode what Sheriff Walker thought. I’d spent enough mental energy translating one man’s facial expressions to qualify for a second language certificate.
I had more important things to do, like finding four animals who’d somehow become my responsibility despite absolutely nobody appointing me to the position. My brain had formed an unauthorized emotional committee devoted entirely to their welfare.
The dining room door swung open.
Helen hurried inside carrying an oversized cloth bag.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.
” Slightly out of breath, her cheeks were pink, and her glasses were slipping down her nose.
She looked exactly like a woman who’d spent the last twenty minutes power-walking around town fueled entirely by determination and caffeine.
I sat up straighter by instinct. The same way children instinctively sat up when teachers entered the classroom.
Uh-oh. The last time Helen had looked this determined, I’d accidentally become festival coordinator.
She marched over to the table. “Don’t you answer your phone?” She set her bag on the chair with a little huff, still catching her breath.
“My battery died,” I told her. Totally true.
Helen pushed her red glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I just heard the strangest rumor.” Her expression hovered somewhere between concern and complete disbelief.
Here we go. There it was. The small-town rumor mill. Faster than broadband. More efficient than emergency services.
“Sophie…” She lowered her voice, though not enough to prevent anyone nearby from hearing if they really wanted to. Fortunately, eavesdropping was practically Maplewood Falls’ unofficial municipal sport. “Did you steal a truck?”
I nearly inhaled my coffee, an impressive feat considering I’d momentarily forgotten how breathing worked. “It was a misunderstanding.”
Helen’s brow furrowed. “A misunderstanding involving a truck?”
“Yes?” It sounded less convincing every time I said it.
“With livestock?”
“Also yes.” I was beginning to appreciate how objectively ridiculous my morning sounded when arranged in chronological order.
Lola suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. The woman who’d happily discussed jail-roleplay ten minutes earlier had decided this was where discretion became appropriate.
Dottie became deeply invested in folding rabbit number four. She concentrated on that napkin with the focus of a heart surgeon performing emergency surgery. Neither of them had any intention of helping me. Traitors. Very lovable traitors. But traitors nonetheless.
I was receiving absolutely no support whatsoever.
Helen stared at me another moment. Then, to my complete surprise, she smiled. “That’s what Sheriff Walker said too.”
I frowned. “What?”
“He told me there’d been a misunderstanding, and everything had been sorted out.” She patted my shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” Then she headed toward the kitchen and disappeared through the doors.
I watched her go. My brain completely stalled.
Sheriff Walker covered for me? Why? If he’d been so determined to act like nothing had happened, why tell Helen it was a misunderstanding? Why not tell her exactly what I’d done?
Nothing about this man made any sense.
I frowned into my coffee. Enough. I wasn’t doing this anymore. No more trying to translate sheriff into something comprehensible. No more wondering what he meant. No more replaying the kiss. If Captain Competent wanted to be confusing, he could do it all by himself.
The only thing that mattered now was Bandit and Theo and Daisy and that little donkey.
I set my coffee down. “I’m going to find them.”
Lola looked up. “How?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
Dottie smiled. “That’s usually when your best ideas happen.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I stood. “I don’t need the sheriff.”
The words came out stronger than I felt.
But I’d keep saying them until I believed them.
Because one thing was absolutely certain. If nobody else was going to save those animals, I would.