Chapter 1
Lucas
Lucas stared at the email and willed the words to change.We’ve decided to go in another direction.It wasn’t personal. He knew that. It was just business, but it felt personal more and more as the rejections trickled in. He should be used to it by now, right? His stomach twisted, and he yanked out his hair tie, raked his fingers through his thick brown hair, and then tied it back up in a messy tail.
He read the email again. Maybe the magic worked this time? Nope. He marked it ‘Read’ like all the others and moved it into the ‘Rejections’ folder that he tried to ignore. That folder was getting too full. He told himself to stop checking it, stop torturing himself by scrolling through all the times people hadturned him down, but that was easier said than done. His phone buzzed on the table beside him, and he grabbed it, desperate for a distraction. Instead, the knot in his gut twisted even tighter. Overdue bill reminder: $145 that he did not have.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. Just past 11:30, still early by his standards. He never quite managed to sync up with the rest of the world, something that drove his family mad back when he lived at home and worked with his brother. Nighttime was quieter, softer, and easier to exist in. Without all the bright light and focus inherent in daytime hours, he always felt like he could breathe easier.
Lucas groaned and dropped his head back against the chair. His rent already loomed in the near future, and now more bill problems. His commissions were slow that month, slower than usual. Living off sporadic freelance gigs, a handful of portraits, and the tiny residuals from the stock photo sites online wasn’t enough.
Even supplementing with gig work delivering takeout to people who could afford thirty-dollar pizzas didn’t fill the gaps. His last delivery had been a sushi platter that cost more than his entire grocery budget for the week. He’d handed it over to some guy in sweatpants who barely grunted a thank-you before closing the door. Lucas went home and ate peanut butter toast. Again. Not many people needed delivery in a town that small anyway.
Maybe it was time to admit he’d made a mistake.
The studio apartment held a full-size mattress on the floor, a pressboard table he found at the curb, a folding chair, a tiny kitchenette with one of those fridges that didn’t even have a real freezer, and a door to an equally small and ill-equipped bathroom. And his camera gear locked away in a case hidden behind the faded loveseat. He’d bought that at a thrift shop, praying that it didn’t have bedbugs or fleas or something equallyhorrific. He’d spent an entire weekend scrubbing down the wooden frame with vinegar and vacuuming the cushions.Even now, he eyed it suspiciously sometimes.
The only hint of personality in the place came from a print tacked to the wall over the table. His parents, older brother, and he sat at a patio table smiling at the camera. Sometimes, Lucas yearned to go back home and sink back into that comfortable life. Just sometimes.
Home. His chest tightened at the thought. Home was safe, predictable. He could’ve stayed there working at the steady job his brother had lined up for him: data entry at the logistics company where Paul managed trucking schedules for grocery stores. The income was enough for a sensible apartment and some real furniture. He’d only lasted four months before the slow suffocation of boredom and hopelessness became unbearable. The days all blurred together, an endless cycle of spreadsheets and automated emails. By the end of the third month, he started keeping count of how many ceiling tiles were above his desk.
Photography wasn’t a safe choice. He knew that, but it was his choice. His passion.
Lucas exhaled sharply and resisted messing with his hair again. Pulling it out by the roots wouldn’t change anything. Instead, he stood up, poured his last bit of milk into the battered, second-hand pot, and mixed in a spoonful of cocoa mix. He stirred it slowly, watching the powder dissolve in the warm liquid, pretending for a second that it wasn’t the last of it. He poured his favorite hot treat into his green travel mug, grabbed his camera bag, slung it crossbody, and headed for the door.
He slid his earbuds in and tuned into the latest episode of Midnight Mysteries. This guy with a sexy low voice told ghost stories, talked about cryptids, and weird encounters in remote locations. Lucas didn’t really believe any of it, but it kept himcompany on long walks and during late editing sessions. He liked that little ‘What if?’ feeling. Who didn’t want to believe in something more than the mundane rhythm of life?
The cold hit him as soon as he stepped outside, the kind that cut through fabric and settled into his bones. He hunched his shoulders and stuffed his free hand into his coat pocket, eyes constantly on the lookout for anything interesting to photograph.
The town lay quiet in the usual nighttime lull. He smirked and scanned the street. There was really no nightlife in the small town. The café on the corner boasted a pretty good and semi-affordable dinner menu. There was a bar, but Lucas hadn’t checked it out yet. He certainly didn’t need to blow his money on drinks, but it seemed the best bet if the loneliness grew too much to bear.
The bakery still had lights on in the back, even though the front was dark and empty. The faint scent of cinnamon and fresh bread curled through the air as he passed. His stomach growled, but he didn’t have money for that either. He wouldn’t even be able to replace his cocoa stock until he paid his overdue bill. He walked a little faster, as if escaping the scent might somehow make him less aware of how empty his fridge was.
The town was a lot different from his old home, a busy suburb on the edges of a mid-sized city. Even on weeknights, half the residents seemed on their way somewhere at all hours. A few headlights passed by, their glow reflecting on the damp pavement. Patches of snow clung to the shaded edges of the sidewalks and in the empty flower beds in front of businesses he passed. The sky overhead was a thick, unbroken gray hanging heavy and promising more snow.
The sky somehow made everything feel smaller. Lucas wasn’t a pessimist by nature, but on days like that, days when the weight of rejections and responsibilities battered on him, thefeeling that he didn’t really belong anywhere in the world grew. It wasn’t just the town that felt small, it was him. His dreams, his chances, his entire future shrank into something he couldn’t quite hold onto.
Lucas turned his feet toward the one place he could afford to hang out: the local park. There was a playground he stayed far away from. The last thing he needed was a parent thinking the worst because a man with a camera lurked nearby. A small lake sheltered a few ducks. A chain-link fence surrounded a dog park on the other side. That’s where he headed.
Slowing as the fence came into view, Lucas tightened the grip on his mug and veered off toward one of the picnic tables that sat under winter bare trees. The single lamppost cast a dull light over the scene, but the dog run itself, filled with short, muddy grass and patches of snow, and the meadow and woods beyond lay in darkness.
A sudden burst of motion snapped his attention away from his cocoa. A golden retriever charged into view, moving with endless energy, kicking up dead leaves and icy slush without a care in the world. His tail wagged like it was the happiest creature on Earth, and Lucas couldn’t help but smile. That was the kind of joy he wished he could bottle up and carry, something pure, unbothered by bills or failures.
He couldn’t see where the dog had come from at first. Who took their pet out to run at midnight? Was the sweet pup an escapee from one of the warm homes nearby? Lucas scanned the area and caught the faint impression of a person standing near the far edge of the fence. They were nothing but a dark, bulky shape outside the circle of light.
The dog zoomed past, stopped abruptly to stare back at the person, and then bounced away again. He sprinted toward the trees, tail high and tongue lolling, before slowing down to sniff at the ground.
Something wistful pulled in Lucas’s chest. He’d always wanted a dog. As a kid, he’d page through books on different breeds, daydreaming about the one he’d have someday. A Labrador? A shepherd? Maybe two dogs – one big, one small, both ridiculously spoiled. He’d take them on long walks, let them sleep on the couch, and feed them treats, but only healthy, organic ones. He’d take dozens of photos of them every single day. His phone would be nothing but dog smiles. His camera cards would fill with snapshots of wagging tails and floppy ears.
Lucas got lost in the same old daydream. He could picture the cozy house so clearly, just a little one, but with a big backyard, grass worn from endless games of fetch. In these dreams, a man stood beside him, his heavy arm around Lucas’s shoulders. He’d press a kiss to Lucas’s lips before handing him a cup of cocoa after a long day. They’d laugh together as their dogs got the zoomies and ran themselves silly.
That kind of life felt so far out of reach it might as well be a fairy tale. Lucas exhaled sharply, his breath pluming white in the cold air. His fingers tightened around the mug as reality settled into his mind. Cold air. Empty park. A happy dog, their owner nothing more than a bundled-up shadow on the far side of the fence. He could still afford his dreams, at least. No one could repossess a future that hadn’t happened yet. Sometimes dreaming about something good, something his, was enough to keep him going through the cold, lonely nights.
Chapter 2
Ryder
“Ritz, no!” Ryder rubbed the back of his neck as the dog took off just as he opened the gate to reattach the leash. His muscles ached from the twelve-hour shift, and his mood seriously frayed around the edges. One more call and he might’ve snapped at his partner on the rig, Eva, who wouldn’t put up with his grumpiness at all.
