Page 24 of Trusting a Warrior

“Oh, yeah. Some of them are real snappish and aggressive. I remember this one, he had a crazy look in his eye like he wanted to kill me. At that point I was seriously wondering what the fuck I’d gotten myself into, and then I looked over and saw this other dog gazing around at all the chaos with what I swear was a sneer on his face, like, ‘You peasants.’ That was Bosch.”

She stifled a giggle, picturing Geo on that barstool, his own expression exactly what he was describing.

“So you picked him?”

“Yep. I asked to work with him, and after two days, I knew he was the dog for me. One of our final exercises was to clear this house. He found the explosive odor right away, and then we were supposed to run out a side door into the yard where a dude in a bite suit was waiting to fight with him. Instead of going out the door, though, Bosch went out a window that nobody realized was open and fuckin’ pile-drove this guy to the ground. Boom!”

The little-boy enthusiasm in his voice reminded her so much of Rhys that tears sprang to her eyes. It’d been so long since she’d lain in bed and talked to a man like this, and she’d forgotten how nice it was.

She wiped the tears on the neckline of her pajama top. “Wow,” she said hoarsely. “That sounds intense.”

“It was.” He fell silent, and after a moment asked, “You okay?”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” he said, then went on, his tone rueful, “I’m such a tool. You said you’d had a rough day, and here I am, just babbling on about myself.”

“Well, I like hearing you babble.” Her face burned. “I mean, I’m really interested in, you know, dogs. And stuff.”

Lani, you idiot.

“Have you ever had one? A dog, I mean.”

“No.” She sighed. “Rhys and I moved around so much, and we both worked, so it seemed unfair to have a pet.”

“That’s too bad,” Geo said softly. “Dogs are great.”

“Did you have dogs growing up?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, and then he said, “I had a fish once. But no, no dogs. My dad was too sick for us to have pets like that.”

“Oh. Did he—”

“He had MS. Died when I was eleven.”

Lani winced. “I’m so sorry, Geo. That’s rough.”

Her heart aching, she waited, knowing there was nothing she could say, no platitudes he’d want to hear.

He blew out a breath. “Anyway...”

She could tell he’d revealed way more than he’d meant to, and intending to distract him and hopefully put him at ease, she asked, “Do you think I could have a picture of Bosch sometime?”

He cleared his throat, then rasped, “Sure. He’s quite the ham when he wants to be.”

“Awesome. Text it to me?”

“I will.” His voice sounded stronger. “I’ll do it as soon as we hang up. And on that note...”

“Right. Guess we should probably get going.”

“Guess we should.”

Neither one of them said anything, or made any move to hang up, until Lani whispered, “Bye, Geo.”

“Bye.”

For a long time, she lay on the couch, staring unseeingly at the TV, her Chinese food ignored.