Page 55 of Searching for Valor

With a curse, he pushed himself up from the kitchen floor and stalked to the door. His head throbbed with every step, the hangover from last night colliding with this evening’s bad decisions. He should’ve paced himself better, but pacing required giving a damn, and giving a damn was exhausting.

He yanked the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. “What?”

Zak stood on the porch, his dark eyes narrowed as he took in Rylan's disheveled appearance and white-knuckled grip on the bottle. "I'm here to stop you from doing something stupid."

Rylan rasped out a bitter laugh. “Too late for that.”

“Yeah, I see that. When did it start?”

Rylan didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to relive the night they rescued Pierce and Rhiannon, when his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and all he’d wanted was to shut everything inside him off for a few hours. He’d taken a drink that night, his first in six years, and he hadn’t stopped. But he sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell Zak he’d spent the better part of the last three months drunk.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Zak stepped inside like he owned the place. At his side was a medium-sized male dog with a sleek, strong body. His coat was striking, a rich mix of black and warm rust with clean white markings that painted his chest, muzzle, and the tips of his paws like deliberate brushstrokes. His eyes, a deep amber that seemed to hold an almost human understanding, watched Rylan steadily, unblinking. His ears were floppy triangles on either side of his head, and his long tail curled up over his back. He trotted in like he belonged, his head turning to take in the room with quiet curiosity.

“What’s with the dog?”

“This is Valor,” Zak said. “He’s your dog.”

Rylan blinked. No way he’d heard that right. His brain was just sluggish from the booze and he was missing something. “My dog?”

“Yeah. Yours.”

He let out a harsh laugh that scraped his throat raw. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind if you think I want a dog.”

“You don’t want a dog, but you need one.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” he bit out, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “And I sure as hell don’t need a dog.”

Zak turned to face him, arms crossed, his expression as immovable as a mountain. “You’re drowning, Ry. Everyone can see it, and we’re all throwing you lifelines, but you’re too damn stubborn to grab one.”

“I’m fine.” The words were automatic, a reflex, and they tasted like ash on his tongue. He wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine in months. But admitting that felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff, and he wasn’t ready for the fall.

Zak’s eyes narrowed. “All of those empty bottles say otherwise.”

Heat rose up the back of his neck, shame and anger twisting in his gut. “You have no right?—”

“I found you laying on that couch half dead three days ago,” Zak interrupted, his voice sharp as he pointed toward the living room. “So don’t you tell me I have no right to worry about you. And now your sister’s scared out of her mind, too. She came to me in tears because she doesn’t know how to help you. None of us do. You’re shutting us out, drinking yourself into a stupor every night, taking too many sleeping pills… and you have the balls to stand there and tell me you’re fucking fine?”

“Rhiannon needs to mind her own damn business,” Rylan snapped. “And so do you.”

Zak didn’t back down. He never did. “You’re my business, Rylan. You made yourself my business when you joined my team. Whether you like it or not.”

“So, what, you’re gonna save me now? The great Zak Hendricks, swooping in to rescue another broken mess? Newsflash, I’m not one of your strays.”

“No, you’re not. You’re my friend, and I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself.” Zak paused and drew a deep breath, obviously reining in his temper before he continued. “I’ve been where you are. Exactly where you’re standing with a head full of noise and more booze than blood in my veins. Anna showed up on my doorstep with Ranger and gave me a choice. Now I’m showing up for you with Valor and giving you the same choice.”

Rylan’s throat tightened, his chest ached, and the anger surged, desperate for release. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have to.” Zak’s calm tone was like fuel on the fire.

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Zak didn’t move. “No.”

The single word hung heavy in the air, a challenge Rylan wasn’t sure he had the strength to meet. His vision blurred, rage and shame warring for control. He wanted to throw Zak out, to yell until his throat was raw, to do anything to push him away.

But his gaze fell to the dog.

Valor was sitting at his feet now, staring up at him with those sharp, unwavering eyes. The dog didn’t flinch, didn’t back away, didn’t do anything but look at him with a quiet patience that cracked something deep inside.

---