Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Tyler chuckles as he helps two of the dogs untangle themselves from their line. “Seriously, though, she wasn’t chipped before, so there’s no proof that way. And you have to admit—she’s a different dog from the one you met last January.”
I stroke her fur. “She is.”
She’s a different dog.
He’s a different man.
What am I, besides the same old Marie?
I stand and move back toward the sled. “It’s hard to see her gait from the basket when she’s up front.” Harry always took me out in a tour sled that could accommodate two people standing. “But she obviously has the enthusiasm and the drive, and the temperament. If you can get her physically ready, then … I don’t see why she can’t do it, if she wants to.” I steal another glance to see Nymeria and Tank brush up against each other. She seems happy.
Tyler lets out a deep exhale, as if he’s been waiting for my verdict. “Well, wait, if you can’t see her like that, then you should stand.” He hooks his hand on my elbow and gently tugs me toward him. “Come on, we can both fit.”
“I don’t know—”
“Trust me. I used to do this with Mila all the time.”
It has nothing to do with trusting Tyler and everything to do with being this close to him again. Unable to find an excuse I’m comfortable using, I step onto the footboards and take hold of the handlebar with gloved hands. Tyler settles in behind me, his toes at my heels, his body snug behind mine.
He cages me in with his arms as he seizes the handlebar. “You ready?”
He’s asking me, but the dogs hear the command and begin to bark and tug against their lines, earning his chuckle. He releases the hook, and we take off in a jolt. Tyler’s muscles tense to hold us in place. After a moment, he leans in and whispers into my ear, “See? I told you it would work.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
I do my best to focus on the gaits of the dogs ahead and ignore the strong, hard torso pressed against my back, the way his beard scratches my skin every so often as our bodies bump and his jaw brushes across my cheek.
We follow the trail around a loop in silence and then meet up with our tracks from earlier, hinting that we’re already heading back toward the house.
“By the way, how is everything going at the clinic?”
I know what he’s really asking: How is everything at the clinic now that I’ve lost the income from both Harry and Tyler’s business?
I should answer with a dismissive lie, but the moment I open my mouth, the truth tumbles out. I tell him everything—working in Anchorage for Wade, my parents selling the property, my growing sense that I’m holding them back, this feeling that my entire life is in limbo. Talking to Tyler has always been so easy.
“What happened to opening up a hair salon in your cabin?”
“That was a half-baked option Jim threw out. It wouldn’t work, anyway. Vicki doesn’t want to live there. She wants to be on her own.” But the issues Liz raised are fair. The clinic and cabin aren’t mine. There are three of us, and short of me buying them out one day, tough decisions will have to be made.
Will I still feel the same desire to live on that property and walk through that clinic door and look at the house across the field once my parents are gone? Once Sunday dinners and the blare of the clown horn are nothing but a memory?
I remember Jonah in those weeks and months after Wren’s death. He said everything had changed. Everything felt hollow.
Maybe I’m dwelling too much on something that won’t happen for another ten or fifteen years.
But what if it happens tomorrow?
“I’m beginning to think they should sell now. Go to Mexico or Europe or wherever else they want. Enjoy life while they still can. But I don’t think my father will make that call. I have to make the decision for him.” I worry my bottom lip. “It’s hard, pulling the plug like that. Making such a big change that you don’t want.” Letting go of the clinic, the house. My childhood. My life as I’ve always known it, up until now.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” A soft sigh slips from him. “But in the end, it’s just a building. It’s replaceable. The people in it aren’t. You aren’t. You can set up a new clinic anywhere, and people will come to you.”
I smile. “That’s what Jonah said.”
“It’s true. Have you ever looked into one of those mobile vet clinic trailers? They had one on a show I was watching, and it made me think of you. You’re always coming out to kennels, anyway, so why not drive your clinic there?”