Solace (5 page)

S
hane’s afternoon
started with a text.

He didn’t even have to look to know who it was from. Only Denise would fuck with him in such a vague way, like she couldn’t be bothered to come up with a real threat so she just pulled a jumble of words out of her ass.

Shane thought about turning her down. She’d understand, even if he just said he needed some time to himself. But time to himself meant time to think, and he definitely didn’t want that.

He also valued Denise’s opinion, and her perspective on this whole thing would probably be valuable, because Shane was at a loss.

Aaron had offered to practically hand him a service dog.

He still couldn’t wrap his brain around that. Considering how valuable the service was and how much time it would take, it just made no sense that a complete stranger would be that kind.

Honestly, it made Shane suspicious. He’d been taught to watch his back, and that didn’t just apply to hostile situations where lethal violence was expected. To Shane, things like this also counted.

Aaron had to want something from him in return. That was how humans worked. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

But it wasn’t like Shane had any connections. The best he could do was put a word in with his buddies who might need a similar service, but so few of them would be able to afford it. Not so soon after coming home.

He was sick of wrestling with it alone, though. Pulling up Denise’s text, he sent a quick response.

He headed over to Denise and Robbie’s place around six, bringing a case of beer with him since he knew Denise wouldn’t even let him into the house if he didn’t have an offering.

She greeted him at the door, likely hearing his loud-ass truck in the driveway.

“About damn time my beer delivery got here,” she said, a fond smile on her lips.

When he made it up to the door, she didn’t hug him. She knew better. But the expression was full of warmth. Out in the field, Denise Sanderson was all hard edges. But there was a soft center to her that Shane was thankful to know.

“Your favorite kind, too. Horse Piss Special.”

She wrinkled her nose. “We talked about this, Carter. I only drink Donkey Piss Special now.”

“Water it down a little, same difference,” he said with a shrug.

She laughed, then jerked her head to invite him in. “Cooler’s out back. Oh, and Robbie is wearing the pink apron. Try not to jizz all over my lawn chairs.”

“I’ll do my best,” he joked in return.

Walking through Denise’s house was the first time he’d really felt at ease in what seemed like ages. He didn’t have to worry about protecting himself here. Denise was a hard-ass, but she knew what triggered him, and Robbie was a complete fucking hippie. He didn’t have it in him to hurt anybody.

As promised, Robbie was out in the backyard, clad in a frilly pink apron. He poked at a steak with a pair of tongs before looking up to greet Shane.

“Hey, glad you could make it, man.”

“Thanks. Good to see you again, Rob. Looking sharp.”

“I know it,” he said, turning around so Shane could get the full picture.

“Come on,” Denise said, motioning to the lawn chairs. “Prime spot for heckling the cook.”

“Can’t heckle a master grillsman, babe,” Robbie shot back playfully.

“Watch me, cupcake.”

Shane took a brief detour to put the longnecks into the cooler, and, at Denise’s urging, he grabbed a pop top and tossed it to her, pulling out one for himself, too.

She cracked into it and sighed after taking a long draw, like it was fucking mana from heaven instead of cheap-ass canned beer.

“So. How was the VA?”

Shane shrugged, cracking open his own beer and taking a swig. It was just as bad as he remembered. “Was all right. The dog thing… I don’t know. It might help, but it’s way out of my price range.”

Denise frowned. “You can get a line of credit or something, right? Or a military discount?”

“Discount would still be too much, and you and I both know nobody’s going to give me a line of credit while I’m unemployed.”

She couldn’t dispute that, and so she didn’t. Shane was quiet for a moment, watching Denise’s husband cook, letting the smell of steak waft over to him.

“Anyway, I went down there earlier. To Paws For Hope. Guy who gave the talk offered to do it for free.”

Denise’s gaze narrowed as she leaned over the lawn chair to look at him. “No shit? What, did you offer to blow him or something?”

If it had been anyone else saying that, Shane would have choked on his beer. But this was Denise. And… well. Denise knew more about him than damn near anyone else in the world.

“Not yet,” he threw back, mostly because he knew she expected it.

“You should do it, Shane.”

“Blow him? I was thinking about it.”

She rolled her eyes, taking advantage of the small gap between them to swat his arm. “I swear, you’re worse than my fucking brother.”

“I don’t know.” His voice lost all trace of humor. “What if it doesn’t work? I can’t afford to fail at this.” He shook his head slowly, then looked at his friend. “She wouldn’t even let me see her, Dee.”

“Yeah, well. She’s a bitch.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not a bitch. You know why she’s fucking terrified.”

Denise waved her hand dismissively. “Fine. She’s not a bitch. But she doesn’t understand, and taking your kid away for something that isn’t your fault? Sorry, Carter. If the bitch fits and all that.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her. Denise was like a gator. Once she got her jaws clamped around something she didn’t let go. And God help anyone who hurt her friends.

“Here’s the thing though: You can’t afford not to try.”

She was right. Shane took a low pull on his beer and stared out at his friends’ not-so-well-manicured backyard. Denise didn’t press him for anything more, and when the steaks were ready, they ate and talked about shit that didn’t matter. Shane fell into the comfort of being around good friends and good food, even if the brew was still fucking terrible.

They played cards until one in the morning, when Denise begged off and told him to get the hell out of her house, with all the fondness she could muster. And still they didn’t talk about it.

But the whole time, it was in the back of Shane’s mind. As he sat in his truck, it floated to the front.

Meet me at the shelter tomorrow at six.

Apparently he was going to get a dog.

W
est Lake Animal Shelter
hadn’t changed much since the last time Shane had come here.

It had been three years ago, and he, Shell, and Becca had gone to look at kittens, figuring a cat would be easier for Becca to learn to take care of than a dog. They hadn’t left with a kitten, but instead an older cat named Sparks, with whom Becca quickly became inseparable.

Walking up to the entrance made him smile. Not because it was a real happy place—the smell of animals was strong, loud barking resonated for at least a mile, and a cloud of gloom seemed to hang over the entire facility—but because of his memories of Becca.

They’d surprised her, telling her they were just taking a regular trip to the grocery store. As soon as she’d realized where they were, her face had lit up and she’d practically bounced with energy.

Shane closed his eyes, pulling that memory close. That was all he’d had for a long time. Just memories, good and bad. He couldn’t imagine having only those for the rest of Becca’s childhood.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” a familiar voice said.

Aaron stood by the front desk, dressed in the same style of clothing Shane had seen him in yesterday. It was a lot more low-key than what he’d worn at the VA, and Shane got the sense that this was the way he normally dressed.

He approved. Especially considering he was just wearing a sleeveless black tee and jeans.

Part of that was because he wanted to see the look on Aaron’s face when he showed off two full sleeves of tats. Aaron didn’t disappoint; Shane could practically feel his gaze as it roved over his arms.

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can’t really afford to pass,” Shane said.

Aaron seemed to consider this, then nodded. He spoke briefly to a woman behind the intake desk, then motioned Shane toward the door that led to the kennels. He didn’t seem to be as nervous here, which made sense. He spent all day working with dogs.

“Why don’t you tell me about the dogs you’ve owned,” he said, and fell into a slow walk toward the kennels.

“First was Sandy. She came from the pound pretty young. My dad got her for me as a present, but she tore the shit out of the brand-new furniture, and he took her back.”

He could see Aaron wince.

“Yeah, I never really forgave him for that. Mom made him sleep on the couch for a month, too. I heard she got adopted again, but he could’ve been bullshitting me.”

“Hopefully he wasn’t,” Aaron said gravely.

Shane hoped so, too.

“We got Tanner from a litter my aunt’s dog had. I pretty much grew up with him. He was a chow and rottweiler mix, I think. Parents couldn’t afford to get him snipped for a while, so he was a randy son of a bitch. But he calmed down after that.”

“Did you teach him any tricks?”

“A few, yeah. Basic shit. Sit, lay down, roll over.”

Aaron nodded, then stopped to examine the clipboard on one of the kennels. An older dog looked up at him as he did so.

“What happened to him?”

“I’m not really sure,” Shane said with a frown. “He started ripping things up. Never had a problem before that. Mom tried to correct him, reached for his collar and he turned around and damn near tried to take her arm off. Vet said it happens sometimes with older dogs. Kinda like a type of dementia? He told us it was best to put him down.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, and it sounded like he meant it.

“Yeah. It happened right after I enlisted, so…”

Aaron just nodded, crouching in front of another kennel and holding his hand out to a pit bull mix.

“What are you looking for?” Shane asked, pretty eager to change the subject.

“On the papers, I’m looking for any information they have about the dog, like where it came from, who owned it previously, whether or not it was abused or mistreated. Then I need to get an idea for its temperament.”

Shane stood back, his head cocked slightly to one side as he watched Aaron interact with a dog. “Guessing the calmer the better?”

“Calm is a good start, but we don’t want dogs that are too placid. The dog needs to have enough energy and interest to follow commands at any time, and a strong desire to please humans.”

“You can tell all of that from just a look?”

Aaron looked up at him with a smile. “No. I can narrow it down, but I need to evaluate any potential candidates. This shelter has a room set aside for potential adopters, so we can do it there.”

Aaron moved on, and Shane followed. He tried to provide his inexpert opinion, pointing out dogs that seemed to fit Aaron’s criteria, but none of them passed muster.

They’d made it through almost the entire circuit before Aaron took an interest in another dog. Shane had started to lose hope, and he tried not to let himself think this was the one, but the dog looked up at him with warm brown eyes. Its tail wagged lazily, and its tongue lolled to one side almost like it was smiling at him.

“She seems to like you,” Aaron said.

It wasn’t the crazy exuberance some of the dogs had shown, jumping up on their kennels and begging for his attention. But he was right. This dog did seem to like him. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they’d approached, as if she was trying to communicate beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was supposed to choose her.

“What’s your name, sweet girl,” Shane said, crouching down.

He remembered himself then, glancing to Aaron first. Aaron just nodded with a smile.

“It’s fine. You can and should be affectionate with your own dog.”

Shane put his hand up to the cage, and the dog licked his palm.

“Her name’s Buttercup. She’s a little over three years old. Ah, this is sad. She had an elderly owner who passed away. The dog was found three days after she passed.”

“That’s fucking morbid. Though… Buttercup? Really?”

The dog wagged her tail.

“I think it’s cute. She looks like a Buttercup.”

Shane squinted dubiously. “‘Buttercup’” was some kind of yellow lab mix, from what he could tell. Her coat was short, and most of it was that yellowish tan. She had white around her muzzle and on her belly, leading up to her chest. White socks covered her feet, and her tail was tipped in white, too.

Maybe Buttercup was a decent name after all.

“That white looks like boxer markings,” Aaron said. “Wonder if she’s part boxer.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“They can be high energy, but if she had an elderly owner, she’s likely okay.” He glanced up at Shane. “What do you think?”

“I like her so far.”

He’d only had a passing interest in the other dogs. This one was the first to really grab his attention.

“Let me just run up to the front and let them know, and we’ll take her to a side room.”

Aaron left, but Shane stayed crouched in front of Buttercup’s kennel. He reached his fingers through the chain link, and she put her side up against it to be stroked.

“Sorry about your owner,” he said. “I can’t promise I’ll be as good as she was. I guess if things work out the way they’re supposed to, I’ll be leaning on you a lot. But I’ll do my best to give you a good home.”

She wagged her tail harder, made a whining noise in the back of her throat, and bumped her head up against Shane’s fingers, forcing him to pet her.

Aaron came back soon after with a slip lead in hand.

“They think Buttercup has her shots, but if she’s a good fit, she’ll need to be checked out by a vet.”

Shane rose, moving out of the way so Aaron could open the kennel. Buttercup wagged her way right on out, but Aaron was quick to slip the lead around her neck. He handed the other end to Shane.

“This way.”

Shane clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and Buttercup walked with him to a room that was kept away from the main kennel area. It was quieter there, and even more so once the door was shut.

While it was a small room, it did have a bench on one side, a crate of toys, a dog bed, and a water bowl.

“Let me see her for a sec,” Aaron said, and Shane handed over the lead. “Sit on the bench and try to call her to you.”

Shane did as he was told, and before he’d even said anything, Buttercup started moving forward.

“Come here, Buttercup,” he called, his voice a little higher.

Aaron let go of the lead and Buttercup came to him instantly.

“Good girl,” he said, scratching lightly through the fur at her cheeks.

“Try a few obedience commands with her. She might already know the basics. Oh, here.”

Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out a little plastic bag. He tossed it to Shane, and Buttercup’s ears perked up.

“Jesus, I’m surprised she wasn’t your best friend this whole time,” he said with a laugh, palming a small treat that smelled… well, not great. But probably good to a dog.

“Shows how much she likes you,” Aaron said with a smile.

“Maybe she just isn’t very observant,” he countered with a smirk.

Closing the treat in his hand, he sat up straight.

“Sit,” he said.

“Say it a little more firmly.”

Shane repeated the command, and after a moment, Buttercup sat. He praised her and handed her the treat which she took gently.

He cycled through the basics. Sit. Down. Stay. Come. Heel. The last two were with Aaron’s direction, since apparently he wasn’t doing it right. Buttercup knew sit and down, but she didn’t really grasp the concept of stay. She was really good at come, but heel was another trouble spot.

“We can work on all of that,” Aaron assured him.

Next, Aaron took some toys out of the box and found the one she liked best. It turned out to be a soft squeaky toy shaped like a shark, which Shane approved of. Buttercup might not be the most badass name ever, but at least she liked badass toys.

“I want to test how excitable she gets,” Aaron said, and then he started playing what Shane could only describe as keep-away with her.

She never snapped at him. She never growled or tried to forcibly take the toy. She never lunged or showed any hint of behavior Shane would describe as aggressive. But then, Aaron wasn’t looking for aggression. He was looking for excitability.

Shane frowned, searching Aaron’s expression. But he was unreadable.

“Is it really so bad that she likes to play?”

Aaron looked at him as if realizing he was there for the first time. He flushed before answering. “There’s good play and bad play.”

“And what kind of play is this?”

“Good play,” Aaron assured him with a smile. “She’s excitable, but focused. She wants the toy, but she’s not trying to take it from me. If she can show focus in play, she can focus during tasks. And it will be a good way to reward her.”

Shane felt a wave of relief wash over him. Christ. When had he gotten attached to this dog?

“Is that it, then? Will she be a good fit?”

“One more evaluation.”

Buttercup gave Aaron the toy when he requested it, and he… What the fuck? He put it in his mouth. Shane let out a crack of laughter, earning a glare from Aaron. While he still had the toy in his mouth.

That only made him laugh harder.

“This is serious,” Aaron insisted. After removing the toy.

“Oh yeah, it looks real serious.”

“I have to see if she responds aggressively when I challenge her.”

“Sure thing, Dances With Wolves.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Is that the most recent reference you can make? You can’t at least call me the Dog Whisperer?”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t know I was in the presence of the Dog Whisperer,” Shane teased.

Aaron glared at him. Partly. His lips edged into a small smile, and he shook his head. Then he put the toy back into his mouth.

As if Shane needed another hurdle to keeping his amusement in check, Aaron started growling. A real, honest-to-God growl that rumbled in the back of his throat. It was deeper than he would have thought Aaron capable of, and instead of having to force down laughter, Shane found himself having to force down something else entirely.

Aaron wasn’t his type. But when he growled like that…

Buttercup. He needed to watch Buttercup. He drew in a breath, tamped down his raging libido, and focused on the dog. She wagged her tail and put her ears down in what looked to Shane’s untrained eye like confusion.

She didn’t growl back or bare her teeth or anything he would have expected from an aggressive dog. Instead she ducked her head beneath Aaron’s and licked the underside of his chin.

“Good girl,” Aaron said, and Shane smiled hopefully.

“So?”

“She passed all the tests. She does need some training. She could be a little more excitable than I’d ever recommend. But it’s nothing I can’t work with.”

That sounded suspiciously like pride. Shane liked it. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to poke fun.

“Of course, you’re the Dog Whisperer.”

Aaron scoffed, but his expression sobered soon after. “There’s one last test.”

Shane’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said that was the last.”

“Of my tests. But this one is the most important. What do you think of her?”

Shane almost gave the first answer that sprang to mind. He liked her. He’d liked her since he’d seen her. He’d felt an odd connection to her the moment their eyes met. But he closed his mouth before he could say those things, knowing a quick answer wasn’t always the right answer.

Shane held out his hands as if to pet her, and she came willingly. He stroked her soft fur and let his mind wander. What he was searching for, he didn’t know. Some sign, maybe. Something that would tell him right away that this was the dog who would help him get his life back.

He looked down at Buttercup. Her mouth was partly open, her tongue hanging out. She didn’t have any wisdom to impart. Just soft, loving eyes that implored him to make the right decision, but said she would still forgive him if he didn’t.

“Yeah. She’s the one.”

He didn’t know what decided it, and he couldn’t say it was much more than a feeling. But Aaron seemed satisfied. He slipped the lead back on Buttercup and motioned toward the door.

“I’ll fill out the paperwork, then, and we can head to the pet store to make sure she has everything she needs.”