A soft sigh filters through the phone. "No. I told you. I've got it."
"Yeah. I know you do." I pause, hearing the lie in her voice. The stubborn independence that's both infuriating and so quintessentiallyMiathat it makes my chest ache.
And she's probably right.
I should stay here. Fix the leaky roof. Organize the stack of bills on the kitchen counter. Be an adult and focus on my own life for once instead of orbiting hers like some guilty satellite.
The responsible thing would be to hang up and respect her boundaries. Let her handle her own problems like she's telling me she can.
But I'm just frozen here, gazing at the oak past my yard's edge, recalling the afternoon we etched our initials into its trunk and shared our first kiss underneath those swaying, mighty limbs.
Every time I stand here, I can remember the taste of her lips, the look in her eyes when we finally let go.
The letters are still there. Faded, but stubborn. Just like us.
And that's why I'm here.
That's why I bought this house.
And that's why when I turn around and look away from the tree that holds my most treasured memory, I'm already halfway to the door.
I grab my keys from where I just set them down.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," I say, not asking permission.
She starts to protest, but I'm already ending the call, pulling the door shut behind me.
The Jeep roars to life as I back out of the driveway, out of my house—with all its half-finished projects and empty spaces—shrinking in the rearview mirror.
I don't look back.
Some things you don't choose. Some things just choose you.
Chapter Four
Mia
The fluorescent lights above me buzz like angry wasps, casting everything in that sickly hospital glow that makes even healthy things look half-dead.
Which is fitting, because I'm pretty sure I'm dying right now.
Death by animal rescue.
"Okay, Princess," I mutter to the ancient pug trembling in my arms, her thunder vest askew and her bulging eyes wide with terror. "I know the world is ending, but can we please not pee on me again?"
Princess responds by doing exactly that.
Perfect.
The shelter sounds like a rock concert from hell. Every dog in the building is barking, yipping, or howling in perfect discord.
The senior lab who ate an entire box of crayons is producing rainbow poops that would be artistic if they weren't coating half the kennel floor.
The goat dropped off earlier today is systematically destroying my clean towel supply.
Yes, that's right. A fuckinggoat.
And somewhere in this beautiful chaos, my phone is ringing for the hundredth time today with a cracked screen and a battery hanging on at two percent like a stubborn martyr.
