Page 24 of By Any Beans Necessary

"Because it seems like you've been dodging every place Michelle might be," Danny prodded with a knowing look. "And that's not like you."

"Coincidence," Jeff lied, feeling the weight of his words sink like stones in water.

"Uh-huh." Danny's skeptical eyebrow raised higher. "Care to explain why you went from top of the class to...this?" He gestured to the scoreboard where Jeff's name had slipped down several notches.

"Everyone has off days," Jeff countered, his voice tight as he guided Winston through the weave poles with less precision than usual.

"Off for nearly a week, you mean," Danny corrected, not unkindly. "Look, whatever it is, you gotta shake it off. This isn't just about grades; it's your future."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Coach," Jeff remarked dryly, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Jeff," Danny leaned in, lowering his voice again. "I've seen you handle pressure before. You used to thrive on it back when we played football in high school. But this...avoidance thing isn't you."

"Really, I'm fine," Jeff insisted, offering a smile that felt as hollow as he knew it must look.

"All right," Danny conceded, though his gaze lingered with concern. "Just remember, we're here if you need to talk. And by 'we,' I include Hunter, Avery, Jenesa, and yes, even Michelle. Though I get the feeling she's the last person you want to talk to right now."

"Got it," Jeff replied, his throat tightening around the words.

"Good," Danny said, clapping him on the shoulder before moving on to the next student. "Because we're family, and family always has each other's backs."

Left to his own devices, Jeff sent his dog over the hurdles, but his performance was mechanical, perfunctory. He completed the course, ticking off the necessary tasks, yet his heart wasn't in it. Not anymore.

"Decent job," came the half-hearted praise from Charlie. "But I know you can do better than that."

"Thanks." Jeff forced a nod, but the words were empty, just like he felt. Everything seemed meaningless without Michelle to share it with.

"Seriously, what's up with you?" Hunter asked, rejoining him.

"Nothing that'll matter after graduation," Jeff said, brushing off the question. His eyes flickered to the exit, considering escape.

"Sure," Danny said, not buying it for a second. "But it matters now. And it's affecting more than just your scores."

"Let's just drop it, okay?" Jeff's voice was barely audible this time.

"Fine," Danny relented, but his expression remained etched with worry.

As Jeff watched the others laugh and celebrate minor victories with their four-legged partners, he realized just how much he'd isolated himself. Avoiding the Coffee Loft and skipping church on Sunday, all to dodge the possibility of running into her. The irony was, in trying not to think about Michelle, she occupied more of his mind than ever.

By the end of the day, the sun was tipping its hat goodbye, streaking the sky with shades of orange and pink as Jeff trudged out of the K9 handler academy. His boots scuffed against the pavement, each step heavy with the weight of his own disappointment. He could almost hear his chances of graduating slipping away like sand through his fingers.

"Hey, Jeff," Hunter called, jogging up to him, his black hair tousled from the day's work. "You're coming tonight, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Jeff lied, managing a half-smile. He didn't want to go, but he also knew that he needed to keep in Hunter and Danny's good graces if he wanted to make sure he graduated.

"Good." Hunter clapped him on the back, his blue eyes bright with anticipation. "Avery's cooking her famous lasagna."

"Can't wait." The words tasted bland in his mouth, though he knew Avery's food was top-notch.

"Seriously, you okay?" Hunter's usual jovial tone was dipped in concern.

"For the final time, I'm fine," Jeff snapped out, the lie sharper this time. He didn't have the energy to keep defending himself.

"Okay, man. Just don't bail on us," Hunter said before heading back to the academy, leaving Jeff alone with his thoughts again.

Jeff opened the door for Winston to jump into his truck, then slid into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He should be studying, running drills, anything but wallowing in what-ifs about Michelle. Here he was, a puppet yanked by invisible strings of regret. He started the engine, the rumble a temporary reprieve from the silence of his own mind.

He made a quick detour home to change out of his uniform and slip into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. "You ready for this, Winston? I'm sure not," he grumbled. He ran his hand through his hair before slipping his leather coat on and heading out the door.

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