Page 6

This is the last thing I need right now—a runaway dogon my watch. My mind races with worst-case scenarios as I chase after him, praying that I can catch him before something terrible happens.
But then, he disappears around the corner of some bushes, and I can’t even hear him anymore. Oh crap. Now, I’m in real trouble.
3
ETHAN
I pushopen the front door and squint against the harsh sunlight that invades my vision. The remnants of last night’s bourbon still linger in my system. My head is pounding.
I don’t have to leave my house to have a good time, but this morning, my body is reminding me of my age. I can’t just knock back drinks like I used to. I have to slow down and pace myself, something I couldn’t remember last night as I was trying to forget my stupid error with Madison.
There’s a layer of frost on everything, and I can already feel my feet protesting even though they’re in pretty lush slippers. It doesn’t get too cold here on Oak Island. It never even snows, but there is definitely a difference between stepping outside on a fifty-degree morning and an eighty-degree morning.
I wince as my headache comes back with a vengeance. I need a cup of coffee. I don’t really need to get my mail, but there’s something about a walk in the cold morning air that wakes me up. My driveway is a quarter of an acre away, and it’s good to stretch my legs.
As I head down the driveway toward the mailbox, something small and fast catches my eye. At first, I think I’m imagining it, that the alcohol is still playing tricks on me, but then I see it again. It’s a little furball darting across the lawn.
I stop, blinking hard to clear my vision.
“What the hell?” I mutter, bending down slightly to get a better look. I should have put in my contacts before coming outside.
The creature comes into focus, and it’s a tiny, energetic puppy. The little pug is running full speed like I’m its best friend and it’s been missing me for a long time. Its nose is mashed up against its face, and I shake my head, looking at it. It’s kind of ugly, but also kind of cute. The puppy’s tail, which looks more like a pig’s tail with the way it’s curled, is wagging furiously.
I stand there, curious to see what the little fellow is going to do. I’ve seen stray cats, pelicans, and even turtles on my property before, but never a runaway puppy. Clearly, this is not a wild dog.
The puppy skids to a stop in front of me, looking up with bright, expectant eyes. It’s panting, its little tongue hanging out, and for a moment, all I can do is stare down at it, wondering where the hell it came from.
But then, there’s something innate in me that suggests I bend down and pick it up. It’s cute, in its own ugly way, and he looks like he’s probably lost.
“Well, hey there, little guy.” I crouch down to get a closer look. The puppy immediately jumps up, placing its tiny paws on my robed knee, as if it’s been waiting for this exact moment all its short life. “Where’d you come from?”
The puppy tilts its head, as if trying to understand me, then lets out a playful bark, as though it’s answering me.
I reach out to check the collar, hoping for some kind of identification. Maybe a phone number or an address that can tell me where this little runaway belongs. Maybe it belongs to a new neighbor. I’ve seen people walking dogs up and down the street, and I’ve never seen this one.
But when I turn the tag over, there’s no identifying information for the owner, just the name “Scout” engraved on the metal.
“Scout, huh?” I say, looking down at the pup. “That’s all you’ve got? No address, no phone number?”
Scout just barks again, wagging his tail so hard his whole body wiggles. I can’t help but chuckle. This little thing is full of energy, and despite my slow, painful morning, I feel my mood start to lift.
“All right, Scout. Let’s get you inside. Someone’s probably out looking for you right now, and they don’t want you to get run over by some car.” I scoop him into my arms. He can’t weigh more than ten pounds max.
As I walk back toward the house, Scout squirms in my arms, clearly excited by all the new sights and sounds. I can feel the warmth of the puppy’s small body against my chest, and I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve had something this innocent in my life.
Aurora grew up and left me years ago, and her mother had issues before that. I don’t want to say I’m damaged goods, but I’ve dealt with a lot. The idea of having a little puppy to play with, just for a short while, is annoyingly exciting.
I push the front door open with my shoulder, carrying Scout inside, realizing once I’m in that I completely forgot to get the mail after all.
The puppy immediately starts wiggling again, desperate to explore his new surroundings. I set him down on thefloor, watching as he sniffs around, investigating every corner of the foyer.
“If you pee on the carpet, I’m charging the cleaning fee to your owner.” I watch as Scout curiously investigates everything, biting the sofa experimentally before deciding that it’s not a threat.
The puppy seems fascinated by everything, and I follow him around curiously as he explores my house.
I can’t help but smile as I watch the puppy explore. There’s something refreshing about the way he’s so completely absorbed in the moment, oblivious to anything else. I could use a little of that right now—getting lost in the present, not thinking about everything I have to deal with later.
Scout barks again, this time at a mug that is right next to the bar cart. The puppy pounces on it, knocking it over. The little clattering noise it makes is enough to make Scout start barking at it again. I laugh, shaking my head at the sight.