Page 56 of Lose You to Find Me

She looks down at the dog before passing him to me, watching as I quickly wrap him up in my arms. “To be honest, I was debating on keeping him out of spite. But what happened wasn’t your fault. Not entirely. I’m not going to be petty because of everything that went down, especially when I promised my parents I’d help find good homes for these little guys.”

The softness in her voice makes me realize she’s being genuine. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t look at me but at the puppy when she says, “I figured you could use a good, stable companion now more than ever.” Reaching over to scratch the dog’s back, she lifts her gaze upward and adds, “We both could. Because I don’t think Caleb is capable of being that for anybody right now.”

Is that her way of saying things with Caleb and her are over? Because I may not know the specifics, but it’s obvious that there wassomethingthere. I choose not to ask. It’s safer that way.

Probably for both of us.

“How much do I owe you?”

Emma steps back, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets. “Nothing. It’s taken care of already.”

My brows pinch in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The girl standing in front of me, still in her scrubs, sighs. “I’ll never know what happened between the two of you, but it’s obviously not big enough to make him care any less. I’m looking forward to the day I can experience that kind of loyalty, even after heartbreak.”

Is she saying what I think she is?

I look down at the dog, whose tongue quickly finds my chin in happy kisses.

Emma walks back to her car, stopping before she climbs inside. She watches me for a second before shaking her head. “Good luck with…everything.”

I’m too slow to respond before she gets inside and drives away.

When I walk up to the front door, I see Mr. Applebee outside his house with a rake, working on the fallen orange and yellow leaves coating his otherwise green lawn. “Got a new friend there?” he asks, nodding toward the squirmy puppy who clearly wants to be set down.

I force a smile, but it feels too heavy to be believable. “I’m trying to avoid the loneliness thing. What better way than with a dog?”

He leans against the rake handle. “My Annemarie used to say that the times we’re feeling loneliest are typically when we need to be by ourselves the most.”

My brows pinch. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

One of his shoulders lifts as he fights off what I imagine is almost a smile. “Well, she also told me that bacon was going to kill me someday. She switched us to that nasty low-fat, low-sodium turkey alternative, so maybe she had no idea what she was talking about.”

That gets me to crack a smile of my own.

Scratching the puppy between his ears to get him to calm down, I gesture toward my house. “I should go in and get him settled.”

I guess I also need to buy him some things since I never got around to it. Mom isn’t going to be very happy, but I’m sure he’ll grow on her.

“Are we still meeting tomorrow afternoon?” he asks, taking up his rake again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about those pastries you’ve told me about.”

I want to ask him to reschedule, but I don’t want to risk him backing out of the project. Enough of my life is at risk because of my choices; I don’t need my grade for this class to be at risk too. “Tomorrow. Right, yeah. Pastries are on me. Unless Annemarie said something about them being bad for you too.”

Leon pats his stomach. “Only for the weight, but I clearly don’t care about that. Too damn old to care about the little things.”

Snorting, I murmur, “Yeah, I’ve definitely gained some weight since I started working there.” I brush the thought off and force a bigger smile. “See you tomorrow, Leon,” I call out, carefully opening and pushing the door wide with my injured hand.

After setting a few towels down on the floor for my unnamed new family member, I pull out my phone to see a few unanswered messages.

Mom:I won’t be home until late tonight. There’s money on the counter for you to order pizza

Caleb:I’m sorry about earlier. We need to talk about all of this

Choosing to ignore both like they’ve ignored me in the past, I turn my phone off and sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the empty corkboard. It seems appropriate. It’s a clean slate wiped away by a tsunami of regret. The only way to move on is to rebuild from the ground up.

The whining coming from the floor has me moving my gaze from the trash bin full of old photos and toward the puppy that’s officially a fresh beginning for me. “What am I going to name you?”

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