Page 85 of Forever To Me

And that? That thought is almost as terrifying as losing Rip in the first place.

I stand slowly, my knees shaky, Rip’s leash still in my grip. I look at Walker, and he looks right back. The air between us crackles, charged with something unspoken. Something too big for words, too real for either of us to admit.

His throat works like he wants to say something. But then—he doesn’t.

Instead, he just nods once, tight and controlled, then turns back toward the bar like it’s just another night.

Like he didn’t just change everything.

But I know better. Everyone here knows better. Because whatever this is? Whatever just happened? I'll never forget it.

This means the world to me.

The bar buzzes with energy, a crackling mix of music, laughter, and the kind of night that feels bigger than itself. But no matter how loud it gets, my mind keeps drifting to the back.

I steal moments between pouring drinks, slipping away whenever I can to check on Rip where he lounges on the dog bed in Walker’s office next to Pickles, the two of them quickly bonding now hanging out together.

Maggie brought Mack to the bar, and when I peeked into the office, I found her curled up on the couch with my dog.

She’s put on the show Bluey, grinning as she nudges Rip with her foot. “Come on, boy. You gotta watch your show.”

She is loving this. And I can’t say I blame her because Rip is the shit. I love that dog so much. He’s that once in a lifetime heart dog. The dog that stays with you in your heart forever. And he’s mine again.

Rip, ever the loyal companion, rests his head on his paws,eyes half-lidded, content as can be. His tail flicks at the sound of my voice, and the second he sees me, it thumps harder, his whole body wiggling despite his lazy sprawl.

I lean against the doorframe, my heart tight in my chest. I still can’t believe he’s here. That Walker made this happen. That after everything, I finally got my best friend back.

His eyes drift closed, completely content like he’s always belonged right here.

Something in my chest goes tight. I cup his face, whispering, “You were always mine.” His tail thumps in agreement as I make my way back to the front to work my shift.

Kelsie Turner and her band stick around. She’s down to earth and so cool. So far, I’m too nervous to talk with her other than bring her beers and food.

They drink, play a few songs, and the whole town loses its mind. People are recording them, and I notice Walker disappeared to his office.

I watch from behind the bar, pouring drinks and dodging questions, still trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.

Because Walker isn’t just some grumpy small-town bar owner. I have no idea who Walker is. He knows Kelsie Turner. He somehow got my dog back.

And I have no idea what to do with any of this.

At some point, Kelsie catches me staring while they’re on break from playing. Her band is hanging out, playing darts and pool now.

And then Kelsie Turner slides onto a barstool across from me. She props her elbows on the table, watching me with a lazy kind of amusement. “So,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “Hell of a dog you got there.”

I look up, full of gratitude for this woman. “Thank you so much for bringing him here.”

Kelsie smirks and chuckles. “It really was my pleasure. He’s a great dog.”

I smile at her and nod, still nervous and unsure what to say.

“He is a good boy,” she says, glancing back at me. “Worth the trouble.”

I sit up straighter. “Trouble?”

She grins. A slow, knowing grin. She leans forward, lowering her voice. “Do you really want to know how we got him?”

My pulse picks up. “Yes.”

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