Ugly Sweater Weather

"I'll meet you out there when I'm all done here," Crosby said, giving me a smile.

As expected—since Lockjaw enthusiastically loved all animals—Lock and Dasher were fast friends, immediately dropping down on their front legs with butts high in the air for a second, then taking off for a game of chase.

"Makes you want to move out of the city to give them a yard to play in, doesn't it?" Crosby asked, coming up at my side.

"You know, I read an article that said people in our generation are buying homes with big yards not to have children, but a lot of running room for their dogs. I totally get that."

"Maybe one day I can get wealthy enough to own a brownstone with a garden out back," Crosby suggested.

"Now that's the dream. Getting to stay in the city, but also having a little yard. I don't think I will ever get wealthy enough for a brownstone, though," I said, shrugging. "That's the slight downfall to working at a non-profit I am passionate about."

Crosby was oddly silent for a moment as Lillybean moved into the space, finding Lock and Dasher immediately, and acting wholly disinterested—as was her nature—for a long moment before joining in with their antics.

"You said you knew it the moment you saw him, right?" Crosby asked, voice sounding a bit, I don't know, distant.

"Dasher?" I asked, looking over at Crosby, brows drawn together.

"Yeah," he said, hands tucking into his front pockets, causing him to scrunch forward a bit, making him seem unsure, insecure, a look that didn't seem like it fit on him.

"I, ah, yeah. I saw him, and I just kind of knew I needed him in my life."

"Hm," he said, looking straight ahead, his face closed down, showing me nothing.

"Hey, are you alright?" I asked, nudging him with my hip.

Crosby wasn't prone to dark moods. I mean, we all had off days, but he'd never been closed off and distant with me before.

"Yeah, fine," he said, moving forward to play with the dogs, keeping his back to me.

I'd never felt quite so dismissed before.

Pride more bruised than I cared to admit, I turned away too, patting my leg until Lock followed me, going back inside to play with some of the dogs they didn't trust in the back with all the other dogs.

A couple hours later, covered in hair and slobber, I walked through the rescue, looking for Crosby, Lillybean, and Dasher, wanting to ask if they wanted to come back to my place for some dinner.

But I found no one.

"Hey, have you seen Crosby?" I asked Lynn when we made it back to the front.

"They just left a minute ago," she told me, trying to wrangle an enthusiastic shepherd mix into the back.

He left?

Without saying something?

What was going on?

Crosby always told me when he was heading out, demanding that I text him when I got home, so he knew I was safe.

"What is going on with Crosby, huh, bud?" I asked, hooking Lock's leash on before saying our goodbyes and heading out, taking the long way home to walk off those extra treats Lockjaw had conned me into giving him earlier, even if I was sure he'd already done enough running around to offset them.

To be honest, I just wanted the walk, wanted the time and space to work through my swirling thoughts.

"What would Crosby do in this situation, huh?" I asked Lock, looking down to find him staring up at me with loving eyes. "Right. You're right."

Whenever Crosby had figured out that I was having a crummy day for some reason or another, he always showed up at my door, surprising me with food and a new comfy blanket, some coffee, and the perfect movie for us to watch together.

He'd even shown up when I'd been in bed with a wicked case of the flu, body racked with shivers, so exhausted that I could barely make it to the bathroom. He'd worn a mask, and he'd made me soup, he forced me to keep hydrated, he took care of Lock for me, cleaned my apartment, washed my sweaty sheets when the fever spiked, got vitamins in me, put essential oils in my humidifier to help my congestion.

He'd always been the perfect friend; he always knew exactly what to do.

And, to be completely honest, he made me often feel like a shitty one for not always being so damn perfect.

But, I had a chance to fix that, didn't I?

I could figure out the perfect movie, get some food, his favorite coffee order, and even a nice big blanket for us to curl under to watch our show.

Oh, and chews for the dogs, so they stayed occupied.

So that was exactly what I did, feeling oddly bubbly inside at the chance to be the good friend for a change.