Good Boy Pt 9

Sharon’s Notes: Having someone you can talk to is important, even if you don’t expect them to answer you back. Always make sure you have someone to talk to. Even if it’s just a beloved pet. Warning: Author speaks her secrets to the bees.

Baskerville danced and grumbled at me as I opened the front door. I rushed to the back to let him out. He clamored after me, huffing at the exertion. 

“Dad needs to put you on a diet,” I informed the dog as he rushed out to find a good patch of grass. 

My brain churned over everything I learned. The existence of werewolves, fated not-quite-true love, and last, and possibly least, the fact that Sam was looking for a committed relationship. It was the very definition of things happening too fast. 

I followed Baskerville outside to sit in one of Dad’s decrepit lawn chairs and stared up at the stars. The sun bleached plastic swayed under my weight for a moment before deciding to hold. A cold nose touched my hand and I smiled down at the old dog.

“What about you, huh? Did you know that Sam was a werewolf?” I rubbed his ear and his tongue lowled out, dripping drool onto the grass. “Is it weird that I don’t think I mind? He doesn’t turn into a man-eating monster or anything. It’s the other stuff I can’t wrap my head around. Shapeshifting wolf men are fine, but magically selected dating? What the hell even is that?”

Bask flopped onto his back for belly rubs, and I obliged. It had always been his price for listening to me work out my problems. “Sam said humans don’t feel it because they have no magic. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to feel that kind of instant connection to someone. Sure, he’s hot, and I definitely like the way he looks, but that’s attraction, not . . . whatever the hell this is supposed to be. It’s not fate, or if it is, it’s the non-fixed kind. Sam said I don’t have to act on it if I don’t want to. I can just walk away. He doesn’t want to. He’s ready to settle down and have a family.”

I stopped petting and Baskerville grumbled in complaint. I resumed out of habit. “That’s the sticking point, isn’t it. Not anything supernatural, just that I’m not sure I’m ready to commit. Hell, I don’t even know if I want kids, much less if we could have any. I didn’t think to ask. Oh, hell. What does that say about me as a person, Bask? I don’t know what to do with my life, and that has me more worried than werewolves.”

I put my hands over my face and they smelled like dog. He rolled to his feet and put a paw on my knee. The poor old thing didn’t move well anymore, but he was trying his damndest to climb into my lap because he knew I was upset. I gathered him up and the chair trembled in an effort to hold us both. No matter what else was going on, it helped a lot to know that a dog loved me.

“You know what? I think that I’m going to stick this out a little longer. Give it at least until Dad gets back to decide if I even want to try to make this work. After all, it’s fate recommended, not mandated, right?”

Bask wiggled, trying to lick my face and the chair broke.

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