He lunges, barking and pulling Sabrina with him. I spot a red fox tearing across the path to disappear up another hill into the trees.
“Ahhhh!” Sabrina shrieks as her snowshoes get twisted beneath her and she goes down, face-first into the snow, still clenching the leash.
I dash after the dog. “Jitter, stop,” I order.
“Jitter, halt,” Sabrina yells.
He whines and slows and pauses, looking back at both of us.
Then he whines again.
I grab the leash. “Got it. You can let go.”
“He doesn’t usually do this.” She grunts while she tries to untangle her legs, but her snowshoes keep getting tied up together.
“I’ve noticed.”
Jitter whines again and sinks back to the ground, puppy dog eyes out in full effect while he army-crawls closer to Sabrina.
“You’re a good boy,” she tells him. “But we don’t chase wildlife. Especially while we’re on a leash. Okay?”
He whimpers.
“Can you please pet my dog and tell him I’m okay?” She keeps trying to disentangle her feet and legs, and it seems to be a struggle.
“She’s okay, Jitter.” I scratch his back the same way she did, and instantly regret it.
I want my dog back.
I want friends I can say that to.
And I want to lift Sabrina out of the snow and carry her down off this trail.
“There.” She gets her legs untangled, reaches for one of her hiking poles as I’m turning to assist her, and in seconds, she’s back on her feet. “Oh, fuck.”
I lift a brow.
She growls to herself and bends over. Mutters some more, which prompts Jitter to whine more.
“You okay?” I ask her while I squat next to the dog and stroke his thick fur.
“Broken strap,” she mutters. She pulls off one of her snowshoes and holds it up for me to see. “It’ll slide right off my foot.”
This is a problem.
And I see an easy solution that I suspect I’m far happier about than she is. “Huh.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and sucks in a massive breath.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
The suspicious look is back. “You will not.”
“I will. It’s getting dark. I need to get out of the cold. You probably do too. Fastest way down the path when you have a broken snowshoe. Not like we’re trading footwear so you can give me a piggyback ride.”
Those bright green eyes probe my face.
It’s like she’s asking if this is a trick. If I planted the fox so Jitter would run so I’d have to offer to carry her. If I’m planning to drop her. If I’ll enjoy having her arms and legs wrapped around me.
Only the last one is a resounding yes.
“Who’ll hold Jitter’s leash?”
“I can handle you both.”
She flashes a cocky grin like she can’t help herself. “Big talk, boss-man.”
“I’d rather you call me Super Vengeance Man.”
“I’ll consider it if you get me safely back to my car.”
Yes. “Climb on up, Duchess.”
“You wish,” she murmurs.
“Hawaii was fun.”
I get another eyeball of don’t push this, but after she’s pulled off her second snowshoe and hung them both on her backpack, I squat in front of her and she climbs onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips and holding on as if she thinks I’ll drop her.
“The only reason you’re not rolling in the snow being pelted with snowballs right now is because I want to get home,” she says as I stand.
“This the last snowfall of the year?”
“Not even close. Tell me if you get lightheaded.”
“Doing fine.” Better than fine.
And possibly terrible at the same time.
I want her to kiss me again.
And I know if she does, I’ll probably break and agree to not change her café, and then I’ll realize I don’t actually need to be here, and all of this will come to a screeching halt.
If I don’t belong in a lab, and I’m actually terrible at being Super Vengeance Man, and I don’t want to go back to Connecticut even if it would put me closer to Mimi, then who am I and where do I fit in this world?
It’s a heavy question.
And I still want to kiss Sabrina again. Peel back every layer of her clothes until she’s completely bare. Study her skin. Her curves. Her breasts and her pussy.
And pretend I belong.
“I had a dog,” I tell her while I follow Jitter down the path, Sabrina’s body pressed tightly to my back. “My ex took him in the divorce.”