Page 122 of Ruined Vows
I can’t help it. I laugh, and I drop into a crouch in front of the gate. Just the thought of committing to a dog cheers me up. He would be someone I could love and who would love me back, unconditionally, despite my imperfections. He would find me worthy, and his eyes would cast no judgment.
The attendant lets him out for us.
I scratch behind Meatball’s ears, feeling the familiar aching pull in my chest.
He’s even scruffier than I remember—a stout little mutt with mismatched ears, a barrel chest, and the ugliest, most adorable face I’ve ever seen.
He’s perfect. He’s Loyal—a beacon of hope that maybe one day, I’ll find someone who gives me unconditional love.
Meatball is hopeful when he has no right to be. He was left by his owner and is quite old. So, that means the chances of him finding a forever home are slim. But he’s happy and full of love, and there’s no one who can give him what he really deserves, which is a forever home.
We are both akin in that. I’m not sure where I belong either. And at that moment, he lets out a goofy bark and throws himself at me, his tongue lolling, his tail wagging so hard that his whole body shakes.
I laugh an honest, real laugh that feels like it's been trapped in my chest for years. Vukan. Meatball. They are both intent on giving me affection and love that I don’t know how to accept.
I crouch down and press my fingers through his fur, petting him. Meatball immediately shoves his wet nose against my hand, whining, licking, wriggling like he’s trying to climb into my skin.
“Hey, Meatball,” I whisper. “You remember me, huh?”
He lets out a huff and sits, wagging so hard his butt thumps against the floor.
I glance over my shoulder.
Vukan watches from a few steps away, his arms crossed, a small smile curving his mouth.
Not a smirk. Not amusement. Something softer and more profound. Something that makes my heart squeeze tight in my chest.
“He loves you,” he says, like it’s a simple fact. Like gravity. Like death. Like forever love, it’s timeless.
I stand slowly, wiping my hands on my jeans. “I can’t... I can’t take him.”
I hate how my voice cracks.
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
I shrug helplessly, feeling the weight of it settle on my shoulders. “Because it’s not fair. What if... what if something happens? What if I lose him? What if I’m not enough? What if he gets sick? I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. It’s not about Meatball. It’s about everything. Where am I heading? Where are we heading?
Where will I be in two years or three?
He crosses the distance between us in two steps. He gently grips my chin, tipping my face up to his.
“You don’t lose what’s meant to be yours,” he says, voice rough, full of something fierce and unbreakable. “You fight for it. He loves you. You love him. You just have to accept it. Let go of the fear of not being enough. Anyone who doesn’t think your love is enough doesn’t deserve you. But he knows you, and he trusts you. Just reach out and take something good for once.”
I blink fast, fighting the sting in my eyes. He’s right. Why can’t I accept a good thing?What’s wrong with me?
“Come on,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Let’s just take a walk with him. No decisions today.”
I nod, unable to speak past the knot in my throat.
The shelter worker brings Meatball out on a battered leash.He barrels straight into me, almost knocking me over with sheer enthusiasm.
I laugh again — the kind of laugh that leaves me breathless and aching all at once.
He watches us, something written on his face that I can’t quite name.
Possessive. Proud. Protective. Hopeful.
