Cassidy raised her hands to her face, covering her mouth as she watched them approach. Her eyes filled with tears as she strove to maintain her composure. Her eyes flicked from Mac’s tender, warm dark ones to the jerky movements of the three-legged dog behind him.
“Fred.”
Her tears escaped as she stepped down from the porch.
An excited yip rent the air as the dog noticed her; recognized her. Wriggling in delight and excitement, he stumbled on his one front leg in his haste to get to her. He started making the strange talking noises he reserved for Mac.
Mac reached down to steady him, a grin breaking out across his face as he watched her.
She ran to meet her dog. She sat hard on the ground as he whined and barked, flipping and contorting in her arms in unbridled excitement. His tongue bathed her face gleefully. “Fred.” And then she dissolved into tears as she tried to hold on to his thrashing body.
She hadn’t allowed herself to imagine this moment, afraid it might not happen. But here he was, giddy in her arms, Mac again his buddy; transgressions forgiven in a way only a dog’s heart can forgive. The sounds emitted from him were happiness with occasional yips of pain caused by his erratic movements.
Squatting next to them, she felt Mac put his arms around them both. His tone low and authoritative, he commanded, “Fred.” His arm braced her as she rocked back, but she suspected he was trying to calm Fred a little bit, as well.
Snorting and jamming his snout into her abdomen with aggressive sniffs, Fred let out a huge sigh before collapsing into her arms. He panted up at her, eyes glowing, tongue lolling to the side, tail thumping a mile a minute. His heart was beating as fast as her own.
Cassidy leaned forward over him, placing little kisses on his snout, her tears of relief dripping onto his fur. She thought she’d lost everything. She’d grieved her dog. But here he was—broken, maybe—but alive. It was something; it was everything.
“Sweetheart.” Mac reached out and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her up, drawing her to him. She fell against him, her face hidden against his neck as she sobbed. Her body convulsed against his, grabbing on to his shirt.
Cassidy melted into him, seeking comfort from him, his heat enveloping her, his cheek resting against her head as she held on and cried. She knew Mac loved Fred. Freddefinitelyloved Mac.
“Shh, Day, it’s okay now,” he soothed against her ear.
She shook her head against his neck, but it wasn’t to argue.
“Day,” he prompted, trying to lean back to look at her face.
Sucking in a staggered breath, she wiped her face on his shoulder, then brought up a hand, swiping at her nose. “Thank you for…” Meeting his gaze, her vision blurred as tears welled again.
A strange look passed over his face.
Bending over Fred’s ecstatic face and running her hands over his fur, over the healing amputation scars, another soft cry escaped her. “How much does he hurt?”
Mac ran his hands along her arms. “He gets better every day.”
She continued to stroke Fred’s face as she smiled into his happy eyes. He sneezed on her. Both she and Mac laughed. “Thanks, Fred,” she teased, wiping her face. Fred raised his head to lick her.
“You good?” Mac asked, his hand caressing her hair.
Cassidy looked over at him. There was more she needed from him; more questions he had to answer for her. As ridiculous as the notion might be, having Fred with her bolstered her courage. “I have a question.”
He waited.
She could see the hope in his eyes that her query might be a step toward forgiveness; toward resolution. She could also see his mental bracing, trying to guess what she might ask.
Running one hand over Fred’s warm fur, she prompted, “That night… with the paint.” She reached up and touched her face. Looking at him, she tilted her head in warning. “And if you tell me it was just your bullshit…”
His lids didn’t close fully as he reacted; he hadn’t expectedthatquestion. His eyes roamed her face long enough her cheeks warmed, and for a moment she was sure he wasn’t going to answer.
“That was me at the end of a tether,” he admitted. Then he shifted away, sitting back on the grass, looking at her evenly.
Cassidy blinked back at him, shocked he’d answered, that he’d been honest.
“That was me not coping; walking a line between the world as it was and the world in my head. Not a flashback; I don’t get those. But sometimes, the routine of applying it soothes in a fucked-up way. Makes me feel normal.” He looked ashamed; it broke her heart that relivingthatmade him feel more normal than his actual life. “Not the first time, sweetheart, and not gonna lie that it’ll be the last. But Fred showed up and brought me a little bit more back into this world.”
His eyes dropped to the dog.