Page 171 of When the Storm Breaks
The warmth of her small body seeped into mine like the first rays of sun after a long storm.
I exhaled—slow and shaky, like I’d been holding my breath for months.
She curled in tighter. Settled like she’d made her decision. Like she’d chosen me. And for the first time in months, something cut through the numbness.
Tentatively, I reached out and brushed my fingers over the top ofher head.
I hadn’t realized it until now—but this dog, this broken thing, was the first creature to trust me in what felt like forever.
From the doorway, the worker grinned. “Guess you’re taking her.”
I didn’t answer. Just wrapped my arms around Margot’s small body a little bit tighter. She sighed, leaned further into me like she belonged there.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something stir.
Small. Fragile.
A whisper of hope, maybe.
But it was there.
I sat with her for a while, letting myself feel it.
When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse. “What’s the paperwork look like?”
She waved me off. “Your friend took care of most of it. Just need your license.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean, he took care of it?”
“I mean you’re good to go. She’s yours.”
Fucking Chase.
My jaw clenched, but I didn’t argue.
She clipped a leash onto Margot’s collar and opened the kennel door—offering a freedom she clearly wasn’t sure what to do with.
When I met Chase at the front, Margot in my arms, he was standing there with both arms full—plush toys, ropes, rubber balls in all sizes and colors. Some almost as big as her.
He held them like it was nothing. Like this whole thing wasn’t ridiculous.
Like he wasn’t waiting for a thank you.
But I couldn’t look at him.
“Let’s go.”
Outside, I knelt and set Margot down. Her small frame stiffened as she sniffed the fresh air, testing the space.
Slowly, she padded forward. Her paws pressed into the grass. She stopped. Stretched. Her tail gave the smallest, barely-there wag.
A new beginning—one I hadn’t asked for, but maybe one we both needed.
It wasn’t fixed. Not even close. But for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel completely broken.
Later that night, I told Chase everything.
We sat on the couch, Margot curled up in my lap, her soft snores filling the space between my words. I spoke quietly—like saying it any louder might make it worse.
