Page 55 of Grump Hard
“She doesn’t need treats. Our trainer discourages bribing the animal.” His voice drips with condescension. “Colette knows how to behave. She’s just being stubborn because she didn’t want to leave the room and go out in the cold.”
“Well, it is chilly today,” Holly says, wincing slightly as Kyle roughly adjusts the dog, ignoring her whimper of distress. Her professional tone is strained as she adds, “And I understand that some trainers have that philosophy, but in a new environment, away from home, dogs often need?—”
“We’re paying you for photos, not training advice,” the woman cuts her off with a put-upon sigh. “Can we please just get this done? We have dinner reservations at six, and we need time to get back to the lodge and change.”
Holly’s shoulders tense, but she nods. “Of course. Let me see what I can get.”
She moves back, bringing the camera to her face with one hand as she gently wiggles her free fingers at her side. “Hey, sweetheart. Hi, Colette, can you look up here for me, princess? That’s right, just a little?—”
The man jerks the dog’s collar again, attempting to force her chin up toward the camera. The terrier lets out a sharp bark of protest, her claws scrabbling on the pavement as she makes a desperate attempt to run back toward the parking lot behind the store.
“Colette, stop!” the woman snaps. “Sit! Now.”
“Sit!” Kyle roars, making everyone flinch, including me.
The dog cowers, trembling harder as she leaves a small puddle beneath her.
Holly sounds sincerely shaken as she begs, “Please. I think we need to take a break. She’s clearly?—”
“We don’t have time for breaks,” the man says flatly. “Just take the damned picture.”
The dismissiveness, the barely concealed contempt, are all too familiar. God willing, this motherfucker will never have children.
If he does, I’m sure he’ll “parent” exactly like my father.
Holly takes a breath, nods, and raises her camera again.
I should leave. This isn’t my business. Holly is working, dealing with difficult clients the way every professional must sometimes. She doesn’t need me lurking in the shadows, watching her struggle.
But I can’t seem to move.
Watching her try to maintain her composure, watching her swallow her obvious discomfort and sympathy for that terrified dog… Watching her be treated like a servant rather than a skilled professional doing her best in an impossible situation…
It makes me sick. Physically ill.
And suddenly, all my circular reasoning and questions and confusion seem as stupid as these cruel, arrogant people.
It doesn’t matter.
None of it.
Whether Holly’s in love with someone else or just friends with that man or whatever the truth actually is—none of it changes the fundamental reality that’s crystallizing inside me now.
I care about her.
I care about Holly in a way I haven’t cared about a stranger in longer than I can remember. And she’s not a stranger anymore. She’s a kind, genuine, funny, hardworking woman who has never treated me with anything but generosity and warmth, even when we were children.
Even when she was blackmailing me.
And I absolutely, categorically refuse to cause her pain, not ever again.
The realization hits with the force of a Christmas ghost, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I’ve been so focused on protecting myself, on building walls to keep the hurt out, that I became the one doing the hurting. I took my own insecurity and weaponized it against a good person who absolutely didn’t deserve that.
I was, as I suspected, being a fucking dick.
Now, I need to decide how to make up for what I’ve done.
