Page 11 of It’s Only Love

Within minutes, we’re back on the trail, hiking the rest of the way back to where we parked my truck, as fast as we can.

The dog whimpers now and then but continues to sleep in my arms. Dennis stays close to me, his left arm brushing against my side from time to time.

When we reach the truck, I gesture for Dennis to get in, and once he’s seated and buckled in, I carefully place the dog in his arms.

“Thank you, Mike,” he whispers, his sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead. I offer him a tired smile, ruffling my fingers through his hair.

“Sure thing, squirt.” I wink, and he groans.

We make the drive to the animal shelter in Cannon Beach in silence, except for Dennis’ soft cooing sounds against the dog’s neck. I should tell him not to touch the dog too much, but I don’t.

Once we arrive, the receptionist assesses the dog’s condition and immediately shows us into the back.

We’re the only ones there. The air is stuffy, and the smell of animals surrounds us.

The veterinarian on-call takes down the little details about the dog that we have, then assures us they’ll take good care of her and that we can check in on the dog in a few days or so if we want to.

If we want to. Dennis’s spring break is only a week long.

Dennis is quiet all the way back. He doesn’t even put music on.

Soon we’re back in front of the Holbrook home, but he makes no move to get out.

He just stares out the windshield, his expression unreadable.

I feel strangely empty, too. Even though the dog is better off at the shelter, it still feels wrong leaving her there.

As if reading my mind, Dennis clears his throat. “Why does it feel like we just abandoned her, too?” His voice comes out raspy.

“Den… She’ll be okay. They’ll fix her up and find her a good home, I’m sure.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I guess. I just wish… I could keep her.” He pauses. “I always wanted a dog growing up, you know. But Mom and Dad were always too busy to take care of one.”

Fuck, he looks so sad, and my heart feels like it’s ready to burst out of my chest. I reach for him, squeezing his shoulder. “Maybe we can go visit her before you leave to make sure she’s okay?”

He shrugs. “Nah, we’d better not. I’ll just want her more if we do. Besides, you’re right. They’ll find her a nice family.” He offers me a half-hearted smile, then he opens the door and gets out, brushing his hand through his sweaty bangs. “See you later, Mike.”

“Sure. See you later, Den.”

I’m wiped out after today. It was D-Day, so I headed straight to the shelter after work. They close early on Fridays, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late.

When I get back home, I scarf down the meal that Mom left for me and then head upstairs for a long-overdue shower. Now, splayed on my bed, wearing only a pair of gray basketball shorts, the house is quiet. It’s Friday night, and Mom went out to the local bar with some of her friends from work.

When I’m comfortable, my back resting against my pillow, I grab my phone and pull up my text thread with Dennis.

I can’t help laughing as I take in the picture he sent me from class earlier today.

He is zooming in on one of his teachers standing in front of a whiteboard, a piece of toilet paper stuck under his shoe.

Den: You think I should tell him?

I didn’t have time earlier to reply, with work being so busy and needing to get to the shelter in time. It seems everyone in Cannon Beach wanted their yards to be ready for summer.

Me: Did you ?

He might be out. It is Friday after all. Not everyone is as boring as I am. Before I can put my phone down, it pings, and I can’t stop the enormous smile from spreading across my face.

Den: Nah… Whatcha doing?

Me: Just got home. Chilling.

Den: Sweet.

Me: You out with the wild college crowd?

Den: Nah, I have work tomorrow. Lying low.

Me: Cool.

My chest flutters, and I can’t hold off anymore.

I didn’t want to tell him in advance because I’d hate to disappoint him if something went wrong.

But now that we’re home and everything’s settled, I’m dying to tell him.

I’m bursting. Holding up my phone, I snap a picture of the foot of my bed.

Biting my bottom lip, trying not to laugh out loud, I quickly tap out a message, then press send.

Me: Your dog needs a name, Den.

As if on cue, the pup stirs at my feet. I went back to see her a few times after she had surgery.

At first, I told myself it was just to make sure that she was okay, but who was I kidding?

As of today, she’s mine. Well, I might be her owner on paper, but she was always Dennis’ dog.

Now he’ll always come back to you, some small voice whispers in the back of my head, but before I can tell it to shut up, my phone rings.

I pick up, and all I can hear is just my favorite voice in the entire world, screaming at me .

“Mike!!!!! What the hell?! Really?! Mike, really?! Oh my god! Thank you!”

I just laugh because if Dennis is happy, I’m happy. It’s as simple as that.