Page 28 of Home Hearts Hooves

He cackles with laughter. “That could be the warning sign we put on the fences. Beware, big hairy full moons past this point, only enter if you’re over twenty-one.”

“You’ve got no chance of getting a naked retreat, no matter how happy you think Dean is.”

“It’s not that I think he’s happy. I know. He’s been humming, singing, and smiling. I reckon he’s finally seeing someone, about bloody time, too.”

“Really, you think?”

What if he has? What if in these two weeks that I’ve been trying to figure my shit out, he found someone? A pit forms in my stomach at the thought of someone else maybe being the reason for his happiness. I shouldn’t be mad about it. I’m the one who ran away, after all.

“It’s the only reason I can think of,” he shrugs like he’s not totally sure, and that brings way more hope into my heart than it should. I stopped things from going further. I ran away. Dean deserves a man who’ll put their relationship first. Can I really do that now that I have Poppy in my life?

***

Everything with Poppy is going so well. She’s been coming to the clinic after school almost every day this week, and we’re becoming…friends. I guess that’s the best way to put it. I don’t know how to be a dad, so I am starting with a friend. I’m not sure if that’s a bad or good idea, because as a friend, when she asked if she could let out the puppies to play in the back room, I was all, “Sure, they love to play, go ahead.”

Isabel isn’t too happy to see her uniform filthy from the floor and the puppy’s fur as she holds out two damp socks, one with a gaping hole from when Poppy pulled them off to play tug-of-war with one of the feistier pups. I don’t really care what makes Isabel happy. I’d know how to keep Poppy from using her socks as a rope with the pups if I’d been given the chance to learn this parenting thing from the start. No. I can’t think like that. What’s done is done. I want to be there for Poppy the rest of my life, and I won’t have any hope of doing that if I keep letting my anger over what I lost overshadow what I have now.

“Sorry,” I say as she sweeps a hand over the back of Poppy’s shirt, brushing off the fur. It flicks into the light streaming in from outside, and they float like slivers of glitter behind her.

“Maybe we should just have her visit on weekends,” Isabel says.

“No,” Poppy and I reply, her deep frown and pleading gaze mirroring my own. For the first time, I can really see myself in her, other than her hair. And I can tell Isabel sees it, too, her stare moving back and forth between us for a moment before she sighs.

“Okay, then I guess I should drop some clothes for her. She can change after school.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Poppy squeals and hugs her side tightly.

“I can clear out a drawer for her upstairs,” I say, and Isabel nods.

“Mom, can I help Preston with the pet adoption booth at the fair?” Poppy asks, still squeezing her mother around the hips and peering up at her with those big eyes. I have no idea how parents ever say no to their kids when they look at them like that. I press my lips together to stop myself from blurting, “Yes, you can have whatever you want.”

“Preston will be very busy that day. I’m not sure he’ll—”

“I could use the help, actually, if you were okay with it. I’ll have to complete the paperwork for anyone adopting. She can keep an eye on the other pets while I do.”

“Okay then. If you’re sure. I will be at the family stand most of the day, so if you need me for anything, I’ll have my phone.”

“Yay. I’m going to go tell the puppies,” Poppy cheers and dashes back into the back room.

“Thanks for this,” I say, and Isabel smiles, grabbing Poppy’s bag from one of the chairs in front of the window.

“She’s your daughter, Pres; you don’t have to thank me for spending time with her. I should be thanking you for making this so easy. God knows I don’t deserve how great you’ve been, not after what I did.”

“I’m doing my best to work through the hurt, Izz, but I have to be honest. It’s not easy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, and one day, I won’t need to hear you say it anymore.”

“But not yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“I’ll keep saying it, Pres, as many times as you need, because I really am sorry.”

That teenage voice is there again, telling me to go easy on her, to make her feel okay, but adult Preston isn’t going to let that voice erase what she took from me. Only time will help me get past it. I just have no idea how long I will need.

“Have you told your mother yet?” Isabel asks.

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