Page 50 of Forever in the Country

Tanner snickers and then uses the room key to open the door. We’ve only been here a couple of nights and I’m already sick of it. I’ve slept in places far worse with far less, but after having Rhea in my arms I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again unless she’s with me.

“You shower. I’m going to talk to Briggs before he goes to school.”

“You mean talk to Otto?” I grin and he sighs.

“Yeah, that too.” Tanner rubs at his sternum and looks away.

“You okay?” I ask giving him my full attention. He’s about a year behind me in the “figuring shit out” portion of post military life.

“Yeah, I just…” He trails off so I wait. I don’t want to pressure him, but considering we spend a lot of time together I know something is off. “I never made her that happy.” His eyes are full of sadness and regret. “I know now that I never would have been able to but—”

“I think y’all ended up exactly where you were meant to be.”

“It’s weird hearing you sayy’all.”

“Do you want me to be nice or not?” I grouse but I’m happy to see a little of the hurt has faded from his expression.

“By all means.” He holds his hand out for me to proceed so I do.

“Does Fallon blame you?”

“What? No. She’s been really supportive and I did love her—do love her—just not the way she deserved.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you got the love you deserved?” He opens his mouth but I just hold up my hand. “Your path led you to Briggs. You couldn’t have him without your time with Fallon, and even though it wasn’t right for either of you, it was the absolute best thing you could have done for your kid. He’s awesome and he knows his parents love him. You’ve been more selfless than you give yourself credit for. Hell, you moved to middle of nowhere Tennessee—consequences be damned.”

His eyes are wet with unshed tears, and I hate that he’s holding so much inside.

“You know,” he says, clearing his throat, “for a guy who hates talking and people,”—he gives a small smile—“you’re pretty good at this.”

“Yeah, well, apparently people get pissed when you don’t tell them how you’re feeling.”

He snorts. “I think I lost the pool on that one.”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t deck Colt Harrington.” I glare and he laughs. “Is she still mad?”

“She’s notnotmad. More like aggravated.” I shrug. “I can work with that.”

“I just bet you can.”

“Okay, I’m done sharing.” I grunt as I get up and walk into the bathroom, closing the door with more force than necessary.

Tanner’s laugh is muffled but it’s there, and my heart feels a little lighter. I didn’t need another friend, but the guy snuck in there anyway and I don’t hate it at all.

* * *

The afternoon is filledwith first-hand accounts of people who have benefited from being matched with a service or shelter dog.

And I love the variety.

Tanner and I talked at length about what we wanted to focus on—who we would want to target—and even though we’d be military driven that wouldn’t exclude matching a dog to someone in need.

My eyes drift to the man in his late fifties at the end. He’s wearing a leather vest and is holding a Pomeranian with a bandanna around its neck. He seems at ease, but every time he shifts his weight, the dog nudges his hand. At first glance, the dog seems to want attention, but the longer I watch his posture, the more intuitive the dog seems to be with the needs of his owner.

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