Page 67 of Puppy Love

Cam’s gaze shifts around, until she reluctantly meets my eye.

Usually, Cam says exactly what’s on her mind.

And when she doesn’t, I can see it, flickering in her eyes or dancing across her face. But this is different. 15I can’t tell if, when she says she’s busy, she means now or forever.

And I’m not exactly in the position to ask. There’s a term for that. Workplace harassment?

I clear my throat.

“So, see you tomorrow then? Here, I mean?” Cam nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “Here.”

There are other distractions, other vices than sex. None, in my opinion, are quite as fun or quite as effective, but some, at least, are close.

The Morgan Trails is one of my favorite hiking spots in Greenrock, and I think Reese likes it too. Even with the fresh snow on the ground, which he isn’t a fan of, he’s trotting next to me with his tail wagging and head held high. My favorite part about the trail is the overlook. About halfway through the loop, there’s a clearing on the cliff that reveals a view of beautiful snow-capped mountains and people’s million-dollar houses shrinking below. It’s gorgeous, particularly at sunset, because the mountains glow with a pinkish orange hue, making everything around look like something out of a fairytale.

The bronze rocks shimmer in the dusk, turning my intended distraction into a reminder. A reminder that shouldn’t be uncomfortable, but for some reason, still is. A reminder of what was expected, yet still felt abrupt, bringing me here to this stunning view in the hopes of forgetting.

I wonder what did it. If it was the fight we had in the salon or Cody making his appearance at the shelter. Or maybe, it had been coming, the inevitable end of that stupid contract. I thought I’d know when the time was near. But I guess, you can’t really know anything. You can’t always predict when someone will change their mind, and you can’t know their ex will appear right in front of them, luring them back in.

I want to know if she called him. I want to know what they said. But instead of filling my brain with “what if”s, I force myself to remember the good things.

Things that choose to stay.

The trees come and go, the clouds and snow too, but the mountains are always there. I love this view because you don’t quite know what you’re going to get, but you know it will be there waiting. Like its sole intention is to be there for you to admire it.

But staring into the beautiful brown rocks, watching as the sun shines over each ridge and bump, I’m reminded of brown agate. I’m reminded of Cam’s stupid eyes.

Balancing energies, by the way. That’s what brown agate is supposed to do. The website mentioned something about calming too, but I disregarded that because Cam is definitely not calming. Quite the opposite, actually. I didn’t know someone could get on my nerves so badly. She knows what makes me tick, and she takes complete advantage of it.

Took. She took complete advantage of it. So if it’s over the way it feels like it is, I should be relieved, for a multitude of reasons. One being that I’ll no longer have someone to get under my skin, to press me to say things I never would otherwise. And another being that, now, I don’t have to go through the trouble of ending it myself. It was only a matter of time before we got here.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about that look she gave me. Those big, round eyes. The fact that I could tell something was off. That Cam didn’t really seem like she wanted to end things at all.

But the contract has nothing to do with reading her mind. It doesn’t matter if I can pick up on her mannerisms, if I can tell when something is off. It doesn’t matter if I accidentally let details slip about my personal life. Because those things are strings. Strong, tiny threads that weave you together.

And this was supposed to be a no-strings situation.*

I turn forward, facing the remainder of the trail now. It’s getting dark, but that’s never stopped me before.

The snow crunches beneath my spiked boots, Reese’s own boots strolling next to mine.

“Here.”

His head tilts, and I toss him a piece of dehydrated chicken. He catches it, jowls loose and swaying.

“Coco! No!” a high-pitched voice screams, the woman’s tone shrill and panicked. “She’s friendly! She’s—”

I whip around, just as a large brown dog rushes up to us, a pink collar loose around her neck. Before I even have the chance to react, the dog pounces, and Reese lets out a high-pitched yelp.

My stomach drops as he flails underneath her, lips raised and teeth flying. Loud growls rumble from the pair of them, and I instinctually grab the dog’s hind legs just as a pair of large white canines sink into Reese’s leg, another piercing shriek emitting from his throat.

I tug her backward harshly, prying her off. The dog screeches, her head whipping around to snap at me. I don’t care. All I care about is Reese. All I care about is getting this damn dog off of him.

“Shit! I’m sorry! She’s not—” The woman finally runs up to us, her eyes wide but her body motionless. The dog is flailing in my arms, panicking from the restraint. Reese lays almost motionless next to us, blood staining his white coat.

“This is a leash-only area,” I say, snatching the leash from the woman’s hand. My heart pounds so rapidly I can hear it, and I force myself to take a slow deep breath.

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