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I kneel down to his level, taking his face in my hands. "Alex, listen to me. I am going to come back to you. I promise," I say.
"That's what dad said," he whispers.
I squeeze his hands, and I see Tasha walking across the yard toward us with Lyra on her hip. She gives me a concerned glance, and I return it in a plea for help.
"I'm doing something really safe, Alex," I tell him. "Please don't worry."
I'm not going to Afghanistan...just Southern California--not that Alex would truly understand the difference.
"But what if something goes wrong?" he presses, his voice trembling.
"I won't let anything happen to me," I say firmly. "I promise that I will come back to you, Alex. No matter what."
Tasha reaches us and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, buddy, why don't you come help me and Lyra pick some apples?" she says, giving him a reassuring smile.
Alex hesitates for a moment before nodding and taking Tasha's hand, and I mouth athank youat her. As they walk away, I feel a weight lift off my chest.
I know that Alex's fears are valid. He lost his dad, and I can't discount that.
But I also have to live my life, and remember that Alex is safe.
Animal rescue used to be my passion...and I want to reclaim the things that made me feel like a human being, rather than just a grieving widow.
I take a deep breath and start the engine.
As I drive away, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Alex already distracted, picking apples with our chosen family. He's going to be just fine...and so am I. He disappears in the rearview as the car rumbles down the road, out of Chance and Tasha's driveway and through Fern Hollow.
Still, I let myself cry just a little, where Alex can't see me anymore.
Because this is hard for me too.
Chapter two
Evan
MycontactwithSafeHarbor Animal Shelter is running late, and she didn't even bother to call. The sun is already high in the sky, the summer SoCal heat beating down on me. All the paperwork is done, and the dogs are all ready to go in their kennels--but we're missing one key piece.
Thetransport.
We can't exactly move the dogs out to Oregon without a van to get them there, and the vanisn't here. She was supposed to arrive hours ago, but I guess she was dragging her feet, because she was supposed to be here this morning.
I've been working with Hopeful Hearts for close to ten years at this point, and these jobs have never gotten easier. We come into overcrowded shelters and identify the dogs we think have the best shot at getting placed, and then we organize rescue groups within driving distance to help us get the dogs to new shelters. I've picked out fifteen pups for Safe Harbor, and I plan on driving up with the contact so I can swing by and see my family before I leave the States again.
I peer into the distance when I hear an engine rumbling, and I see a big green vancrawlingdown the street. She's driving slow as fuck; the van looks old. I cock my head at it, never having quite seen an animal transport vehicle that looks this bad. It chugs along before it creaks to a stop in front of the shelter, and I get only a glimpse of the lady inside before she opens the door and slips out.
Then she comes around the front and she's...
Holy shit.
Fucking gorgeous.
She's got curves for days, and sun-bronzed skin. Black hair tied up in a messy bun, her cheeks flushed, freckles across her nose. My jaw drops a little as she walks toward me and extends her hand.
"You the Hopeful Hearts guy?" she asks.
It brings me back to reality.
I grin. "That's me. And you must be the Safe Harbor girl?"
