Page 83 of Forever To Me

It’s quick, nothing dramatic, but my stomach still twists. I don't like this.

I don’t know why.

Why is she touching him?

They continue to murmur something to each other, voices too low for me to hear, and then she tilts her head toward the door.

Walker nods. And follows her.

Out of the bar.

Onto her damn tour bus.

I stare after them, heart in my throat.

Walker.

The man who doesn’t talk about his life and is insanely private. The man who acts like his magic guitar knowledge doesn’t exist.

Just got on a tour bus with Kelsie Turner.

I turn back to the bar. I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no business being jealous.

But what the hell is going on?

It feels like hours, but it really was just a few agonizing minutes later as Walker steps off the bus.

And he’s not alone.

He’s holding a leash.

And at the end of that leash is a familiar dog with pointed black ears and warm brown eyes.

A dog I thought I’d never see again.

My best friend in the whole world.

Rip Heeler.

My throat closes. My chest tightens. Tears spring to my eyes.

No freaking way.

I must be dreaming right now. This can’t possibly be happening.

I stumble forward, barely registering my movement.

But I don’t care.

Because Rip is here.

Rip Heeler crashes into me like a storm.

His tail wags so hard his entire body moves with it, his paws pressing into my thighs as I sink to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of his fur, burying my face against his neck as he covers me with kisses and whines.

“Rip,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his fur as he cries, having the same visceral reaction as me.

He smells and feels exactly the same. Like grass, sunshine, and all the good and familiar parts I thought I’d lost forever. My boy.

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