Dark clouds crossed Garrick’s eyes, and for a second, Rain thought he’d pushed too far, especially as Garrick studied the gloves he was putting on, not Rain.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll miss her. Maybe a lot. But sometimes doing the right thing sucks.”
“Isn’t that the truth. I hate being an adult sometimes.”
“Well, I have a lot more practice at it than you, and I can tell you that it doesn’t get any easier. However, you do what you gotta do, even when it hurts.” That sounded a lot like a motto for Garrick’s whole life, and Rain wanted to follow up on it, but Garrick rolled toward the door. “Let’s go.”
They loaded up Cookie and her things—which Garrick insisted on bringing, damn adulting again—and Garrick’s wheelchair in near silence. The quiet continued on the drive. They made sparse conversation about Garrick’s job application and Rain’s continued job hunt, but otherwise they each brooded alone in their thoughts. And it was kind of nice, not needing to fill the air with a lot of chatter. Garrick seemed to understand that Rain didn’t want to be alone, and he didn’t need Rain to entertain him the way a lot of Rain’s friends did. There was no extra tax on hanging out with him—he didn’t have to be the funny, flirtatious one all the time to earn Garrick’s company. He’d discovered that this weekend and liked it a lot.
“Should we take her collar off?” Garrick asked as they pulled into the shelter parking lot. “If that was throwing the family...”
“Cookie likes her pink. She doesn’t need to put it away simply so they see past it. Either she’s their dog or not.” Tone strident, he was talking about a hell of a lot more than the dog’s fashion sense.
And somehow Garrick knew because after Rain parked, he patted Rain’s leg, a rare physical contact from him. “I know. I get it, okay? Collar stays.”
They unloaded, and Rain was glad to see the building was one level without steps, something he hadn’t thought about before making the drive and probably should have. The shelter employee working the reception desk greeted them, gave Cookie a biscuit, and led them to a little visitation room with a few chairs and tile floor.
“The family should be here shortly. They were looking at some of our other animals.”
Rain sat and petted Cookie and hoped they found either their missing pet or another animal they couldn’t live without. Finally, the door opened, and in came an average-looking mom, dad, and school-age kid. Country, with plaid shirts and jeans, all three, but not disreputable in the slightest. Not the totally unsuitable owners Rain had built up in his head, and his stomach sank further. This was it, and he was going to have to be nice and gracious and then start from scratch on getting Garrick a forever furry friend.
“Ursula?” The woman tilted her head, studying Cookie, who made no move to leave Rain, her usual reserve in full display as she stayed between him and Garrick.
“It’s not her!” the boy wailed. “My Ursula always knows me.”
“She’s his best friend.” The mom sighed. “No way would she not greet us.”
“Oh.” Garrick exhaled hard, a big whoosh, and Rain tried to memorize the relief in his eyes because it was potent stuff. That was what true love was—he’d been willing to give Cookie up because it was the right thing to do, but he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to, that much was evident.
“I’m so sorry,” Rain said to the family and meant it. “I hope you find Ursula soon.”
“We’re getting her a friend. For in case she comes back, right?” The boy turned to his mother, who reluctantly nodded.
“Someone fell in love with a poodle mix out in the shelter’s kennel.” The woman gave a tight smile. “We’ll be okay. You going to keep this one if you don’t find an owner? She’s so shy. I’d worry about her in a big kennel with lots of dogs.”
“She just takes a while to warm up.” Garrick scratched Cookie’s head. “Don’t you?”
Cookie’s answer was a canine grin as she leaned into Garrick’s head.
“She’s not going to the shelter.” Rain gave Garrick an expectant look.
“No, she’s not. And yeah, she’s got a place with me. As long as she needs it.” It was as decisive as Garrick had been thus far about keeping Cookie, and Rain grinned so wide his face started to hurt.
After goodbyes and good wishes had been exchanged, they headed back out to the car. Rain was carrying some new toys for Cookie in a little bag because they’d passed the shelter’s gift shop, and he hadn’t been able to resist letting her pick out something fun.
“We should celebrate,” he said to Garrick.
“The stuffed llama isn’t celebration enough?” Garrick laughed and stretched. “Seriously though, not cooking sounds awesome, but I don’t want to leave her in the car, and it’s too chilly tonight to sit on a patio someplace that might not care if she’s with us.”