7
925 Words
Del and I had been running for ten minutes—well, racing—down the quiet morning streets, Aspen sprinting ahead like a furry missile. The air was sharp and cool, burning just enough to make me feel alive.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Del shouted, laughter in her voice. “You losing your edge, hacker girl?”
I grinned, pushing harder. “You wish!”
Right then, Aspen slowed and cut off the road entirely, trotting down a gravel path like he had somewhere important to be. Del and I followed him behind a row of cabins until he trotted up the steps of a porch where a woman stood sweeping—dark hair streaked with silver, warm eyes, the aura of someone who ran her household with love and controlled chaos.
Aspen bounded onto her steps, tail wagging like a helicopter. She laughed. “Well hey there, handsome.”
Aspen melted against her like she’d been his person this whole time.
“Uh… sorry,” I said, catching my breath. “He kind of… adopts people.”
“Oh he’s no bother,” she said warmly. “I’m Elaine.”
Del blinked. “As in… Will’s mom?”
“And Trey’s and Elijah’s,” she added.
Del and I stared—and then in perfect sync:
“Oh, we love you already.”
Elaine laughed, bracing herself against the railing. “Lord, I don’t know what those boys got into, but I have a feelin’ you two are part of it.”
“Accurate,” I said. Aspen barked once like he agreed.
Elaine stepped forward and brushed a leaf out of my hair with instinctive mom-energy. “What’s your name, sugar?”
“Rae. And this is Del. And the furry menace is Aspen.”
Aspen barked proudly.
“Well, Rae, Del,” she smiled, “y’all be safe. And keep that dog outta trouble.”
“We try,” Del said. “We fail.”
We waved and took off again, Aspen dragging us like nothing happened.
“Okay, I love her,” Del panted.
“Me too. I would physically perish if she ever got disappointed in me.”
Aspen barked—louder, happier, faster.
Too fast.
Because as soon as we rounded the next corner—
Aspen surged forward with the enthusiasm of a dog who had spotted the literal meaning of life. “Aspen, non! Slow down—”
Too late.
The leash snapped taut, and I flew straight into a moving wall of muscle.
Correction: two walls of muscle.
We went down in a tangle of arms, legs, gravel, and one traitorous leash that wrapped around all four bodies like Satan’s jump rope.
When the chaos settled, I realized I was half-pinned beneath Trey, his arm braced beside my head. Del was sprawled over Elijah a few feet away, both men looking like someone had thrown wolves into a blender.
Aspen proudly stood in the middle, leash stretched across us like he had caught the world’s largest human fish.
“Merde alors, Aspen! Tu veux ma mort, hein?” I snapped. “Je vais te raser, petit démon poilu!”
Del burst out laughing. “Did you just threaten to shave your dog?”
“Yes! And he deserves it!”
Trey let out a low laugh above me. “You okay?”
“Define okay,” I muttered. “Your dog’s a menace,” Trey said.
“My dog?” I glared.
Elijah groaned under Del. “This is undignified.”
Del snickered. “I think it’s great.”
He glared. “Next time, I’m walking.”
Meanwhile, Trey adjusted his arm carefully, brushing my shoulder. “Hold still—if I just—there.”
The leash loosened. Aspen barked triumphantly.
I sat up, hair chaotic, pointing at him. “Thin ice, mon chien. Very thin ice.”
He yipped, proud and unbothered.
Del got to her feet. “He was just trying to make new friends!”
“Then he can apologize with coffee,” I muttered.
Trey smirked. “You sure you don’t want to file a police report? ‘Assault by Australian Shepherd’?”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpanned. “You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d actually do it.”
His grin turned slow and dangerous.
Del elbowed me quietly. “You so looked.”
I ignored her and tugged Aspen’s leash. “Come on, traitor.”
Aspen barked, already forgiven.
Behind us Trey laughed softly, and Elijah muttered, “We should get hazard pay.”
Del called back, “You love it.”
His tiny smile said she was right.
“You know,” Del said between breaths, “Elaine’s gonna hear about this from her boys.”
“They’re gonna lie,” I said. “Pretend they just found us gently jogging.”
“Right,” Del snorted. “Because the leash marks across Trey’s chest scream ‘gentle.’”
My heart hadn’t slowed yet—not from running, but from the Trey of it all.
“You still thinking about him,” Del said slyly.
“I’m thinking about how I didn’t commit murder after being tackled. Growth.”
“Uh-huh.”
I shot her a look. “Don’t start.”
She grinned. “He looked at you like—”
“Del.”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “But you DID look at him.”
“I looked at the sky,” I snapped.
“Your face was in his chest.”
“…semantics.”
- Writer
