Page 38 of Until Then

“C’mere.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on, sobbing into the crook of my neck. I’m still so cold my extremities are mostly numb, but I’m not about to let her go.

“He’s my best friend.” Another sob escapes her, followed by another so strong it racks her body and mine. “And now he’s out there all alone and scared.”

I cup the back of her head and rock from side to side. “I saw him.”

She pulls away from me so abruptly she nearly bonks me on the nose. “You did?”

A heavy sigh escapes me, and my shoulders droop. “I climbed under a bush. I almost had him there, but he got spooked and ran off again. Once I’m showered and changed, I’ll take the truck out to look.”

It’s only then that she fully takes in my current state.

Soaking wet.

Covered in mud.

I sneeze, turning my head just in time to keep from hitting her with the force of it.

“Fuck.” Her hands flutter around my body like butterflies, but neither lands on me. “You need to get out of these clothes.”

I fucking hate that my brain immediately thinks abouthertaking my clothes off. Fuck. I’m an asshole.

Clearing my throat, I gently slide her off my lap and stand. Then I hold a hand out and help her up.

“Maybe by the time I’m cleaned up, the storm will have let up.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and I can’t resist putting my thumb there.

“Hey,” I soothe. “We’re going to find him.”

I’ll stay out all night long if I have to. There’s no way I’ll stop until the little guy is home.

She nods woodenly, full of uncertainty. I can’t blame her.

I hesitate for a second longer before letting my thumb drop from her mouth. Then I take the stairs two at a time to get away from her before I do something stupid.

I’m still shivering violently as I kick my boots off and head for the sanctuary of my shower. I redid the bathrooms about three years ago, and since then, I’ve kicked myself for not doing it sooner. I live for the rainfall shower and multiple sprayers at the end of a long workday.

Unfortunately, luxuriating in here will have to wait. Eager to get back outside to look for Wonton, I take a shower so quick, it reminds me of the days my kids were babies and time to myself was nonexistent.

Outside the window, the rain is still coming down, but it’s eased up significantly.

Still, I pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then dig out my raincoat.

Downstairs, Izzy is curled up on the couch, her eyes redder than before.

“Come on.” I jerk my head at the door. “Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, she scoops her own rain jacket off the cushion beside her. Then she slips her feet into a pair of boots.

“He has to be so scared,” she says in a soft whimper as we’re creeping down the road.

“Or maybe he’s having the greatest adventure of his life,” I counter, though I’m pretty sure the small dog is terrified out of his mind.

She rolls down the window and calls his name, then turns back to me, her lip caught between her teeth. “How far do you think he could’ve gotten?”

With a deep inhale, I tap my fingers against the steeringwheel. “Even scared, I don’t think he would’ve gone far. He’s probably hunkered down?—”

---