“I’d like a beer.” Finn blew out a breath.
“You can have one with your lunch. Go get cleaned up,” she instructed. “And Finn?”
He hauled himself out from under the sink and sat facing her. “Yeah?”
Maybelle patted the pipe. “Nice work today.”
Finn walked into the woods feeling drained. The trees cocooned him as he wandered into their depths. It was warmer today, and broad branches stretched toward the sunlight. A shrub in a nearby thicket shook, and a moment later, Elvis poked his head out.
Finn didn’t reach for his gun. Instead, he slid down a broad trunk and sat on the cool earth. The animal took a tentative step toward him, then stopped and checked his surroundings. Finn almost laughed; the dog operated like a SEAL, ever mindful of his environment.
When Elvis was within a few inches, he gave Finn’s booted foot a nudge and sat. He just sat there and watched. Finn had the craziest notion that the animal was waiting for an apology. It reminded him of his mom standing over some mess in the kitchen and staring him down. After a full minute of the animal’s unwavering scrutiny, Finn acquiesced.
“Sorry I tried to shoot you.”
Elvis came down on his front paws, and Finn held out his hand.
“We good?”
His gray fur glistening in the sunlight, Elvis gave Finn’s hand a sniff and army-crawled forward, resting his head tentatively on his front paws.
Finn retracted his hand and breathed in the sweet earthy air. Palms flat on the ground, he gripped the leaves and soil. Tipping his head back, he looked up at the clear sky. The forest enveloped him, embraced him. Inside, he felt a vicious fist unclench.
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when Finn opened his eyes, the sun had moved across the sky. He was lying on his side, head on his arm, and in the circle of his body, Elvis was curled up in a ball. When Finn awoke, so did the dog.
Pushing himself to standing and brushing the leaves and dirt from his jeans, Finn patted his thigh. “Well, come on if you’re coming.”
And with that, man and beast made their way back up the mountain.