Page 170 of When the Storm Breaks
Her eyes held something different. Complacency, maybe.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t trying to win me over. And somehow,that felt like the most honest thing in the room.
She was curled in the center of the kennel, with fur sticking out in every direction—scrappy and unkempt. Her tan coat was mottled with darker patches, but it was the markings around her eyes that caught my attention.
Dark, arched eyebrows that made her look permanently skeptical.
Like she was trying to decide whether the world was worth trusting again.
I can relate.
My throat tightened. “What’s wrong with that one?”
The woman in the shelter-branded polo glanced at the dog, then at her clipboard, then back at me.
“Margot? She was abandoned.”
I swallowed hard.
We have that in common.
“She was a gift. A family thought their grandmother needed some company, but the woman passed…” She paused. “Margot was alone. She laid by her side for days. Wouldn’t leave her. I think the neighbors called for a wellness check when they hadn’t seen her outside for a few days. They all loved Margot.”
She cleared her throat before adding, “The family didn’t want to take her. Said it was too painful. So… they brought her here.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“Can I sit with her?” I asked, my voice rough— like the question had been dragged out of me before I even knew I was going to speak.
The woman hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, but don’t expect much.”
The latch clicked. I stepped inside, carefully lowering myself onto the cold concrete. Margot lifted her head, expression unreadable. Alittle disinterested, maybe, but not entirely.
There was something underneath it, though—something guarded and familiar.
The same distrust I saw in the mirror every morning.
She didn’t move at first. Just watched me. Studied me.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine as she finally stood, every movement slow and deliberate—like she’d learned that hesitation was safer than blind trust.
I knew that lesson by heart.
She stopped just short of me, pausing like she was waiting for proof I was safe.
I held still. Barely breathed. Let her decide.
And then she moved. Just a little. Just enough.
Her small frame pressed against my legs—tentative, but real.
She sniffed once, curious but cautious.
Then, inch by inch, she crept into my lap. One hesitant step at a time. Like she was bracing for the moment I would push her away.
When she finally settled fully against me, something inside me cracked.
It’s like she knows I’m broken, too.
