“Yes.”
“I guess.” I take a closer look and notice for the first time, they’re all wearing the same bandana around their necks and their owners are in identical shirts.
“I want one,” she claims.
“So, get one.”
“I didn’t phrase that correctly. I want to get one for Robbie. These are K9 for Warrior dogs.”
Immediately, I stiffen, knowing a little about the program. Robbie’s previous PTSD fills my mind. She feels me tense and turns to face me.
“Is Robbie okay?” I ask, swallowing the fear that his condition has returned.
“Oh, gosh, yes. His nightmares are practically gone. Since your trip last year to visit the graves of the guys who died, he’s been one-hundred percent fine. Sometimes, his leg still stiffens, but he’s got that under control, too.”
“I guess I’m confused. Why a Warrior dog?”
“I’m not sure I’ll even qualify. I’m looking into the application process now, but these are mostly rescue dogs. The program is new to Nashville. I’ve been researching, and I think Robbie deserves a Warrior dog.”
There’s so much love and respect in the statement with only her tone. I may have been confused, but I’m not surprised. Her love is so deep for my friend, and she wants my approval. She knows that I’m the only one who can relate to our accident, and she trusts me to tell her if this is a good idea.
Another reason he’s a lucky fucker.
“I think it’s a terrific idea.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a red Frisbee flying straight at Ember’s head. On instinct, I yank her to me and twist so it hits my back. A dog comes barreling toward us but stops before pouncing and lies down at my feet.
Ember steps away and starts to crouch, but I stop her, cautious of its reaction.
“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!” A woman runs up, apologizing profusely.
The second she stops in front of us, my heart skips a beat. She continues to apologize in a winded rasp, and I find myself searching for my own breath.
My eyes rake up and down her quickly, taking her in. Wisps of light brown hair fly loose from her ponytail and frame her face with curls. She’s wearing cut-off shorts that showcase her long legs and a pink K9 t-shirt with the picture of a dog on the front. When my eyes find hers, I literally have to slap my chest to force my lungs to inhale.
Her eyes are magnetic; not quite green, not quite blue, and not quite brown, but a combination of the three. They are the most unique blend of hazel I’ve ever seen. She meets my gaze for a quick second then leans down to the dog, petting its head.
I can’t stop staring, not comprehending what she’s saying until Ember pinches my arm.
“What?” I shake my head, trying to clear the fog.
“She was saying the dog took a silent command from you.”
“What?” I repeat stupidly and move my eyes between the two women.
“I hate to be intrusive, but are you military?” The stranger’s feathery voice floats through the air.
“Yes.” I nod, not able to find more words.
“He knew. That’s why he’s at your feet. He felt it.”
“That’s incredible,” Ember gushes.
“Your husband has an air about him.”
“Oh, gosh! This isn’t my husband!” Ember giggles. “But, you’re right. My husband does have an air about him. I’m Ember, and this is Finn.”
Something flares across this incredibly beautiful woman’s face, but she bites her lip and goes back to focusing on Ember.