Page 35 of Saving Her Heart
“What seems silly?" Kendall asks, sitting beside her.
"Being mad about things that don't matter. Like torn dresses. Or broken promises." She looks at Kendall with another moment of clarity. "He came back to you, dear. That's what matters."
Kendall's eyes find mine across the room. There's something there—a question, maybe, or an answer to a question I haven't asked yet.
"I should take Gertie back," I say eventually, checking my phone. "Before someone notices she's gone."
"Gone from where?" Kendall asks with exaggerated innocence.
"Right. Gone from her vacation." I quickly correct myself.
We go through an elaborate goodbye ritual. Mrs. Parsons kisses Gertie's head, tells her to be good, and gives her Harold's old tie to remember them by. The goat accepts it solemnly, then tries to eat it.
"Be a good goat, Gertie," Mrs. Parsons says. "Harold will visit you soon."
I lead Gertie back through the building, Kendall walking with me. The hallway is empty, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.
"That was really kind," she says softly. "What you risked."
"It was worth it."
"Even if you get fired?"
"Even then."
"You broke at least ten regulations."
"Twelve, if we're being specific."
"You counted?"
"I like to be thorough in my rule-breaking. I am a criminal mastermind, you know?"
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest. "Officer By-the-Book, breaking twelve regulations for a goat."
"Not for the goat. For Mrs. Parsons." I pause. "For you."
We reach the back entrance, and I hand Gertie's leash to Declan, who's waiting with the animal control van.
"You owe me," he says. "So much. Like, your firstborn child much."
"Put it on my tab."
"The tab is full, dude. We need a second tab." He looks at Gertie, who has somehow acquired Mrs. Parsons' scarf in addition to the tie and is wearing both like fashion statements. "Is the goat wearing accessories?"
"She's fashion-forward." I tell him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"I'm not explaining this to animal control." He drives off, muttering about goats and regulations and needing new friends.
"We should get back," Kendall says. "Help finish the packing."
But neither of us moves. We're standing in the narrow hallway by the back entrance, and suddenly I'm very aware of how close we are. The afternoon light catches the gold flecks in her eyes, and there's a smudge of dust on her cheek from moving boxes.
"You have..." I reach up, thumb brushing the dust away.
She doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "One of the rules," she says quietly.
"Which one?"
