Page 11 of Wag More Bark Less

“What was that? Maggie? Are you okay?”

“I just broke a knob,” I called back, collecting the pieces. “Mom, you really have to calm down. I survived four years in the Army—one of those in a warzone.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can handle a few weeks in a small town. I already made friends with one of my neighbors.”

“How long have you been there?” Mom asked, suspicious.

I stared at the broken glass knob in my palm, making a silent vow to hide the evidence until I could replace it. Hopefully, Officer McGrumpy would be none the wiser. He’d probably blame my dog.

“You were supposed to call me when you got into town,” Mom reminded me. “You said you would.”

Ellie let out a heavy sigh from her perch on the queen-sized bed, as though annoyed she couldn’t offer my mom a sock through the phone. Or maybe she was just bored with my pitiful attempts to strong-arm the gown into the guest room closet that had taken entirely too much time away from more important things. Like naps.

A yawn escaped at the inviting thought. Exhaustion went clear into my bones. Ellie’d already eaten. So, as soon as we picked up some groceries and grabbed a late dinner, I was giving myself permission to go to bed early. Maybe I’d sleep until Monday. How long had it been since I allowed myself to simply relax?

“Maggie?”

“Yes, sorry.” I shook out of my exhausted daze long enough to return to our conversation. “I meant to call sooner.”

But I nearly peed myself right before facing off with Officer McGrumpy.

I almost liked the guy. And for some reason, that irritated me. It wasn’t just his attitude about the dress. It was Ellie too.

How could anyone justify liking a person—unfairly hot male or otherwise—who had it out for my dog? She was literally the sweetest thing in existence. She’d find something like destroying doors with her teeth way too much effort, not to mention completely beneath her. Hopefully, their brief meeting earlier satisfied him enough to let us be for the few weeks we were here.

Somehow, though, I doubted it.

“Did you run into any trouble finding the place?” Mom asked, as though fishing for the reason I didn’t immediately respond to her earlier text.

“It was pretty easy to navigate. The town’s really small and ridiculously charming,” I said, recalling the most adorable Main Street in existence as we drove through to reach the condo. I couldn’t wait to leisurely stroll the streets, discovering all the cute shops and restaurants. “There was a delay with the access code, and then I had to get unpacked. We’re settled now.”

“You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

Concern edged Mom’s tone, not for the first time since I announced a slight detour on my way back to Michigan. She meant well, but I’d endured enough of people hovering over me for a while. It was why I’d deleted all my social media accounts. And also why I wasn’t in a hurry to make the trek back to Lansing.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You could stay here while you’re waiting for your sister to get back. I can move my craft stuff into the guest room if you want to sleep in your old room. If you got on the road in the morning, I’d have plenty of time⁠—”

“No, Mom. I’m staying here for a while.”

At the brief mention of my sister, I made a mental note to check my video messaging app for an update. When I called off the wedding, I dreaded telling Violet the most. She and her hubby had taken time off work to drive since she was too pregnant to fly, and booked their hotel on one of those non-refundable discount sites.

But my baby sister was nothing if not persistent. Not only did she refuse my offer to repay her, she managed to get a full refund for her hotel in Lakewood. Then, she and her hubby decided since they’d already scheduled the time off, they’d use it to take a family road trip before baby number three arrived.

I’d lost track of where they were today. The Black Hills? Jackson Hole? I was about to ask Mom, but she spoke first.

“Maggie, you know you can come home, right?”

“I am coming home,” I countered, despite how home never really felt like home. I’d yet to find anywhere that truly did. It’s why I kept roaming, I suspected. Why nothing ever stuck for long—college, the Army, the military-adjacent jobs. In the past fifteen years, I’d moved no less than eight times. Nine if I counted the TDY in Hawaii.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I wasn’t, really. But considering I called off my wedding two weeks out from walking down the aisle, I was allowed to feel some type of way.

“You’re sure?”