Running Wild (Wild 3)

“You know, Mabel, why don’t we take these things outside before they piss all over the floor?” Roy sets his drill on the shelf, collects his winter coat off the chair where he haphazardly threw it and his trapper hat, and scoops up two of the puppies, leaving Mabel to chase after the last and follow him out.

Tyler ventures farther in. “Looks good in here.”

I contemplate staying where I am, sprawled on the floor, my back propped against the wall, but drag myself up. “It was time for a change.”

He slows on the new picture of me, perched on the picnic table my father and I sometimes lunch at, Bentley, Yukon, and Aurora sitting prim at my feet. Vicki even did my hair. “How’s your family?”

“They’re fine.” I hesitate. “Except Vicki lost the baby.”

His frown is deep. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well … between Molly and finishing up school, she’s keeping busy.”

Silence lingers as I watch him appraise the new details. Or maybe it’s so he can choose his words. God, I miss him. Seeing him now soothes a relentless ache in my chest, and it shouldn’t.

“I know you aren’t treating my team anymore,” he begins slowly, “but I was hoping you would come out and see them run, like you said you did for Hatchett. I’m trying something different this year.” He bites his bottom lip. “A different matchup. Dryland training went well, but now that we have snow on the ground and I’m starting to build up their endurance, I was hoping you’d come out.”

“I don’t know good matchups. I’m not a musher.”

“But you know dogs. And I trust you.”

“You’ve got Don—”

“Not for this. I don’t want Don for this. I want you.”

This is all feeling too personal. Even having him in the room with me now, the pull that sunk me in the first place tugs at me once again. “Tyler, I—”

“Please?” He peers at me earnestly. “There’s no one’s opinion I value more on this, and I just … I need your opinion. I don’t want to make a mistake that any of these dogs pay for.”

He knows what to say to wear me down.

My gaze ventures outside to where Mabel packs snow into balls and tosses them for the puppies to chase while Roy watches, chuckling. “When?”

“Next Saturday, if that works for you. It’s actually Reed’s twenty-first birthday. He was saying how much he’d love to see you.”

I laugh, despite my tension. “Reed did not say that.”

Tyler grins. “He was definitely thinking it, though.”

I shake my head. How am I back here again? “Fine. What time?”

“Eight a.m.?”

Déjà vu hits me. “With or without your shirt on?” My tone is dry.

He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll be fully clothed this time. I swear. It’s too cold for chin-ups in the barn, anyway.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule and let you know. But I’m sure I can make something work.”

His shoulders sink with relief. “Great. Thanks.” He opens his mouth to say something else but then hesitates, as if thinking better of it. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

I watch from the window as his green truck disappears, an uncomfortable swirl of emotions churning within. Why am I such a glutton for punishment?

“I’m taking this one,” Mabel declares as she and Roy push through the door, holding up the brown-and-white puppy. Her grin is a wide mirror of her mother’s as she adds, “And Roy’s taking the white one.”

He harrumphs.

But doesn’t argue.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The gate is already open when I turn into Tyler’s freshly plowed driveway, the snow crunching beneath my tires.

“So, this Reed guy knows I don’t know anything about sled dogs, right? Like, he’s not going to be annoyed with me for asking stupid questions?” Mabel fidgets with the heat dial, adjusting it down. Between that and my radio, she’s been playing with the truck’s buttons and vents since I picked her up outside her house. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or just a subtle reminder that there’s still a kid in there.

“I highly doubt it. But he’s really shy, so if he doesn’t say much, don’t take it personally, okay? You can check things out, and if you want to work here on the weekends, I’ll let Tyler know.”

Smoke swirls from the chimney of the small, ranch-style house as I pull up behind the green truck. Reed sits by the barn next to a blazing fire in the outdoor firepit, stitching a gangline, his curly mop of hair covered in the same trapper hat he wore the first time I met him.

“That’s him?” Mabel frowns. “I thought he’d be older.”

“He’s twenty-one. Today, actually. Hence, this guy.” I pluck the gray puppy from Mabel’s clutches and tuck him inside my coat before hopping out of the truck, my arms wrapped around me to keep him secure. Still, the puppy squirms as we walk toward the barn, and I struggle not to laugh as I try to keep him contained.