Page 92 of Faking it with the Green Beret

Stripping off the sheets, she found the plush bear Boss liked to sleep with next to the mattress. Should she let John know? Use it as an excuse to reach out? No. She shouldn’t send mixed signals after asking him to accept her decision. Let him move on.

Still, she inhaled his scent that lingered on the sheets. A masculine, woodsy aroma. Maybe sandalwood. She didn’t know fragrances to identify them, though she remembered the designer cologne Adam had worn too well. That smell was burned into her subconscious. Anything close to it triggered her to the point of nausea. Even now, a chill gripped her at the memory of his scent. Kneeling on the mattress, she let the memory pass. She lifted the sheets balled in her lap to her nose and breathed in John’s scent again, letting it calm her body’s fight-or-flight reaction.

She carried the sheets down and dumped them in the washer, despite the urge to keep back a pillowcase. The fridge was empty, and the dishes were clean. It only took a few minutes to sweep the floor. Boss never shed a lot. She’d look for the same laid-back temperament and loyalty in her next dog. Maybe that would help keep her busy so she wouldn’t have time to think about Boss. And John.

Scrubbing the walls in the tiny shower made her wonder how John even fit in there. Somehow, their presence still loomed in the tiny house. Maybe that would dissipate once she moved in another tenant.

Step one of moving forward completed, she texted Jillian to put the word out that Hope Harbor was available.

* * *

While eating dinner,Elizabeth scrolled through the pictures of available dogs on the animal shelter’s website. Almost all the dogs were pit bull terriers or mixes and half the size of Boss. She skipped over puppies and clicked on the picture of a tan and white female. That she didn’t play well with other dogs ruled her out. Next, she clicked on a recently arrived fawn-colored male, except his bio mentioned separation anxiety and needing to be with his human in the home, which didn’t mesh with her work schedule. On the fourth page, Beldar, another male, white with large brown patches on his body and face, smiled at her.

There were no red flags in the details, though she noticed the dog’s front leg wrapped in a bandage in one picture and a scar on that leg in another. Watching the posted video, Beldar had a slight limp as he ran to get a toy, but his tail wagged as he brought it back and placed it at the handler’s feet. He also took treats gently from the handler.

Elizabeth wrote down Beldar’s identification number with a lightheartedness that she’d lacked all week. She continued her search and clicked on two other dogs but came back to Beldar.

* * *

When Elizabeth openedher car door in the lot at the Animal Control Center, high-pitched yelping, plaintive whines, and barking filled the air.

She got in the adoptions line behind a family with a young child and a man holding the leash of a brindled pit bull terrier with a raw wound near its eye. The dog wouldn’t look up, and its owner stared straight ahead. Had Boss had a clue what was going on when John’s ex brought him here? She stepped up when it was her turn. “I’d like to see Beldar.” She handed over the paper with his id number on it.

The woman tapped on the keyboard. “I have good news for Beldar, but bad news for you.”

Elizabeth’s tentative joy leaked out of her like a sieve.

“A family is in the process of being approved to adopt him. You can still meet him and be put on the list as a backup in case it falls through.”

“That’s okay.” She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to be disappointed.

“Are there any other animals that you wanted to see?” the volunteer asked hopefully.

“None in particular. I’ll go take a look, though.” Maybe she would feel an unexpected connection with one like she had with Boss.

Elizabeth walked past the enclosures. Each animal tugged at her heartstrings, but she couldn’t take them all home. At the far end, she paused to observe a volunteer, sitting in front of a kennel talking to a black and white Pitbull in low, soothing tones.

There was no name on the plaque. “What’s his or her name?”

“Missy, but she’s not available for adoption yet,” the older man said. “She’s a sweet girl, but apparently someone had been abusing her and made her afraid of men.”

Elizabeth could relate.

“She got adopted once, but the woman brought her back because Missy tried to attack a man who came to her house to do some work. We’re trying some desensitization exercises so that hopefully she can find a home.”

Elizabeth mulled it over for a minute. With John gone, there were no males at The Oasis, but she would still get the occasional workman or delivery man. “I hope she is able to be adopted.”

“It may take time, and it’s up to Missy.”

Elizabeth made her way past the enclosures, looking at the animals through the eyes of a counselor, noting the animals’ different responses. The majority still had hope and sat or stood by their gate, their eyes pleading for a second chance at love. Others slept, as if resigned to their fate. Worst-case dogs, like Missy, cowered in corners, trembling at the sight of humans. The volunteer hadn’t given up on her, but had she given up on herself?

As painful as what John had said at the hotel, was he right? Was she stuck? She was free from Adam, but he still had power over her because she let him. She hadn’t fully healed. She played it safe to avoid flashbacks and potential panic attacks. Had she given up on what she wanted in life?

What did she really, really want?

The ache in her chest grew and robbed her of breath. She wanted real freedom. Freedom to laugh and love and let a man touch her without fear. And not just any man. As much as she missed Boss, she missed John even more. Tears moistened her eyes as it became harder to breathe.

“Let me know if there’s any animal you want to take out to the yard,” one of the volunteers offered as Elizabeth hurried past.

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