Page 27 of Fragile Sanctuary

“That’s a good boy,” I encouraged and pulled out another treat.

This time, he edged a bit closer to me to get the treat easier. After treat four, I slowly lifted my hand to scratch under his chin. He melted into me, his back leg thumping.

“That’s your spot, huh?”

The dog’s booty started wagging back and forth.

“You’ve got a way with them,” Nancy said with a smile. “You always have.”

A phantom pain drifted through me. It wasn’t acute in any way; it was an echo of agony. A month after I’d come to live with the Colsons, Lolli dragged me with her to pick up a cat someone had found scrounging in a dumpster in the back of The Pop.

The cat had patchy, coarse fur and fleas. We’d had to bathe her twice, which she really hadn’t loved, and she’d given us the scratches to prove it. I hadn’t wanted any part of the project. I’d still felt like I was drowning in grief, but taking care of the fiery, mangy cat andhelping her find her way toward healing and trusting again had healed something in me, too.

I’d been fostering animals ever since. There was no greater sense of pride than when I gave one of them over to their forever families, knowing they’d finally get the life they deserved.

“Well, this one is just a love,” I cooed as the dog pressed his whole body against my side. “You wanna come home with me?”

The pup looked up at me with those huge eyes. So much uncertainty swirled in their depths, but he easily followed me to the SUV when I pushed to my feet. I opened the back door, and he hopped right in. I gave him an ear scratch as a reward.

When I closed the door, Nancy pulled me into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I said, squeezing her back. “I’ll keep you updated on his progress and take plenty of pics for the website.”

We liked to post the animals as soon as we got them so we could begin getting the word out. When we were getting closer to a critter being ready for their forever home, we’d start accepting applications. But I had a feeling this guy would need a few weeks with me, at least.

I released Nancy and climbed behind the wheel. The dog’s head popped up over the edge of the sort of hammock I had to keep dogs in the back seat. I chuckled and offered him one more treat. “How do you feel about car rides?”

His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he panted happily.

“I’m taking that as a good sign.” I put the car in drive and headed away from Nancy’s home on the edge of town. As we drove, I cracked the back window just enough for my new pup to poke his head out if he wanted.

It took two point five seconds. Those oversized ears that had been standing at attention now blew in the breeze. I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of me. Ah, the simple joy of the wind in your ears.

“Car rides, check.” One less thing I’d have to master with him.

It only took a few minutes to reach the turnoff to home.Home.It felt like such a foreign word. Even though I’d felt nothing but welcomewith the Colsons, it was never completely home. And since then, I’d been afraid to reach for it.

The dog pulled his head back in, shifting positions so he could see out the front window.

“We’re both going to do some hard things, but we’ll face them together.”

I kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to scratch under my foster pup’s chin. The thumping of his foot against the seat was the only answering sound.

As I headed down the drive, I caught sight of several vehicles by the main house. The majority were trucks of various makes and models, and I recognized almost all of them. But my stomach still flipped a little. Work was officially starting.

It was a good thing. A necessary thing. And most of all, it was time.

I parked outside my guest cottage and hopped out. Opening the back door, I grabbed for the leash. The dog jumped out, his nose in the air, sniffing like crazy. And then, out of nowhere, he let out a series of barks and growls that sounded more like the hounds of hell than a canine.

I turned to see the source of his rage and caught sight of familiar dark blond scruff peeking out from under the shadows of a ballcap. Anson’s footsteps halted as he took in the dog next to me. “Didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I don’t,” I clipped, not forgetting our earlier interaction.

Anson simply arched a brow. Of course, he could ask a question without uttering a word.

“I foster for a local organization. He’s not a fan of men.”

To my surprise, Anson lowered himself to the gravel, hunching his shoulders to make himself as small as possible. “Got any treats?”

---