Page 137 of Headstrong Like Us
Winona nods. “You have to go get them from the shelter.”
“One for each Hale,” Eliot says.
“Again, back up,” Farrow chimes in. But their enthusiasm drowns out everyone, and I can barely pick apart their words anymore.
I cut in, “Quiet, quiet,” and they all settle down and wait for me to talk. I look to Farrow and explain, “Nana, the dog inPeter Panthat’s hired to take care of the Darlings, is said to be a Newfoundland.”
Realization washes over him. “And your family has a thing forPeter Pan.”
He knows, and he’s just referring to my immediate family. The Hales. Which is why the Meadows and Cobalts, and even Vada Abbey are freaking outforme and my siblings.
“And it’s just likeGame of Thrones,” Xander proclaims, a million times brighter than before. My brother is practically glowing. “The Starks found six direwolves for the six Stark children.”
They all start shouting in glee again.
“We just buried Gotham,” I say over all of them, and the mood dies.Great.
Thankfully Jane resurrects it. “That’s what makes this so apropos, I think.”
“For fucking sure,” Sulli nods.
“Mmmhmm,” Winona and the Cobalts chime in. Super supportive of this path. Maybe they can tell how much it’s cheering up my brother and sisters.
I hate that I’m derailing the Hale camaraderie. But I’m older, more practical. We’re about to move. Jane has a fuck ton of cats, and we’re already having to introduce a baby to her seven felines. Now two puppies?
Not to mention, this isn’t just my choice.
I turn to Farrow. If we agree to this, then that means we become pet owners. We just became fathers.
He’s grinning at me and he lifts his shoulders. “Why not?”
“Newfoundlands can weigh up to two-hundred pounds, man.”
“That’s not a problem,” he says easily. “Are they good with kids?”
“Yes!” everyone shouts.
Jesus.
I’m smiling. “Yeah.”
“Sounds perfect.” He raises his brows up and down in a wave. “Let’s get a dog, wolf scout.”
* * *
Today is too surreal.
I think I slipped in the shed. Hit my head. Fell down into Alice’s Wonderland or something. Because it’s midnight and two brown and two black Newfoundland puppies hop playfully around my parent’s living room.
Ripley is somehow awake. And he’s in heaven, giggling and catching onto brown fur as the puppy licks his cheek.
That’s when I know we made the right choice. And I feel a lot like my dad. So I find myself next to him near the kitchen doorway.
He’s been eating a soft shell chicken taco and watching Luna, Xander, and Kinney play with their new puppies.
The two black-furred dogs belong to Luna and Kinney. And then Xander chose a brown-furred puppy, and I took the one that was left, which Ripley keeps holding on to.
“I’m surprised you didn’t even hesitate to sayyesthis time,” I say to my dad. “Especially since you now havetwodogs.”
