But the alternative was going inside with him.
I shook my head. “I’ll figure something out.”
I started making my way toward the ditch, remembering I’d have to climb through it to get to the woods, and that I’d have to ignore my numb, aching feet in the process. I expected River to leave, but instead he let out another deep and heavy sigh, and then he was trudging past me and ripping the back driver-side door open on my little rental car.
“Hey!” I said when he heaved out my suitcase, lugging the thing over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Put that back!”
But he ignored me, his boots leaving fresh prints in the snow as he marched right past me and toward the driveway he’d come out from.
I stood there, gaping, looking at the car and then at him with my suitcase and back again at least a half-dozen times. The snow was falling harder and harder, the wind unbearable, and as much as it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do, I knew I had no choice.
I let out something between a growl and a scream, though not loud enough that he could hear it, and then I stomped back to the car and leaned in long enough to grab my purse. I slammed the door, hit the lock button, and jogged to catch up to the grumpy man carrying the rest of my things.
I’ll just get inside, warm up, and call Dad.
No big deal.
“You’re insufferable,” I said when I finally caught up to him.
“Aren’t you glad you left?”
“If only I’d had the good sense to stay gone.”
His jaw ticked, but he said nothing, adjusting my bag on his shoulder.
And we walked the rest of the way to the cabin at the end of the drive in silence.I didn’t take the time to marvel at the little A-frame cabin River led us up to — mostly because every part of my body was just about frozen by the time we made it to the front door. Instead, I happily followed him inside when he shoved the door open, every molecule of my being rejoicing at the rush of warm air that greeted us.
And the very next instant, a pair of paws greeted me, too — landing right on the center of my chest and pushing me back against the door River had just closed.
I let out a squeak, squinting against the slobbery tongue assaulting my face. It stung against my cold cheeks, and I would have been annoyed or pissed off if River wouldn’t have said the next words he did.
“That’s enough, Moose,” he said. “Down boy.”
River didn’t even raise his voice, it was just a low, firm command. But Moose obeyed, just like he always had, and all the shock and displeasure faded in an instant at the sound of his name.
“Moose?” I asked, first to the dog, and then my eyes found River’s. “Our Moose?”
River’s jaw ticked, but he otherwise said nothing, dropping my suitcase to the floor with a thud.
Moose was making the strangest squealing noises I’d ever heard, and I knew it took every ounce of willpower that mutt had to keep his ass on the floor as he looked up at me with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His tail was waving furiously, his mahogany brown fur long and silky just like I remembered, although the fur around his mouth was peppered with gray now, and he had the same scar over his nose from when we’d first found him abandoned and bleeding in the woods.
“Oh my God, it really is you!” I dropped to my knees then, opening my arms, and that was the only permission Moose needed to leap onto me once more. I fell backward at the impact, my petite frame no match for the ninety pounds of muscle that dog had on him, but I was laughing all the same as he licked my cheeks, my chin, still making those same squealing noises.
“Traitor,” River murmured under his breath, and then he left us at the door, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the fireplace.
“I can’t believe you still have him,” I marveled, rubbing Moose behind the ears. I didn’t care that his breath smelled like he’d been eating dead skunks for dinner a week straight — I never thought I’d see this dog again, and now that he was in my arms, I couldn’t imagine how I ever left him behind.
“What, did you think I’d just kick him out?” River bit back. And I thought I heard him mumble something under his breath, but couldn’t be sure what.
“Of course not,” I answered softly, patting Moose’s head once more before I stood. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but the dog was at least eleven years old now, if not more. We never were sure of his age when we found him. “I guess I’m just surprised to see him, that’s all.”