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The dog dives into my lap, knocking me backward, and covers my face with frantic dog kisses. I laugh, and gently push him to the side so I can sit up, wiping my face with the backs of my hands. “You’re a big love muffin, aren’t you? You’re not scary at all. What’s your name?”
I search his collar for a tag, but there isn’t one. The dog whimpers, and swipes at the collar with his front paw.
“This is hurting you, isn’t it?” I find the clasp, and remove the inhumane collar, massaging his neck. “Who would put something like this on you?”
“Not a good person.” Bryce kneels down beside me, and holds out his palm. The dog leans forward, curious enough to sniff him, but pulls back and nudges me with his nose.
“His nose is dry.” I look over at Beatrice, who has her hand over her mouth. “He needs water.”
“Bring him inside, my dear. We’ll get him taken care of.”
Relief soothes my racing heart. “Come on, bud. I bet you’re hungry too.” I stand, hoping he doesn’t run away again. But he watches me with those keen eyes, and follows as I walk toward the porch.
Inside, Beatrice pours water into a big metal bowl, and the dog laps it up until it’s empty. Bryce brings him sausage and bacon leftover from breakfast, and he inhales that too.
“Where did you come from?” I stroke his head, and he pushes into my touch.
The guests gather around us, but the dog climbs into my lap, shivering like he’s terrified. “He’s shaking. I think he’s scared.”
Beatrice hums. “He looks like he’s been through some trauma.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Who would hurt such a sweet, innocent baby?” I wrap my arms around his thick neck, and he rests his head on my shoulder, his body relaxing into me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay.”
“We should take him to a shelter,” Beatrice says.
My stomach tenses. “A shelter?”
“They’d be able to take care of him there. Maybe find his owner.”
“His owner did this to him.” I run my fingers along the missing patches of fur, and he whimpers when I touch his left side. “He can’t go back with whoever treated him like this.”
Beatrice frowns. “But—”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Bryce says.
My head jerks up.
He holds out his hand again, letting the dog sniff him. “We’ll take him to the vet in town. Check if he’s hurt anywhere, see if he needs any shots.”
“And then?” Beatrice asks.
Bryce places his palm on my knee, and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “And then we’ll give him a proper name.”
Unexpected tears spring from my eyes. “Oh, Bryce. We have to keep him. We have to. We can’t let him go back to whoever hurt him.”
“Don’t worry. He’s with us now.”
Us.
As if we’re a team. As if we’re in this together. As if he somehow knows that I can’t let this dog go, and he has my back.
Beatrice fails to hide her smile. “All right. Get him a leash while you’re out. We can’t have him running amuck.”
I stand, and throw my arms around her. “Thank you.”
The dog follows beside me as Bryce and I make our way out to his truck.
“Have you ever owned a dog before?”
