My big, dopey dog isn’t waiting by the back door like I hoped, and as I stare out into the yard, I can barely make out anything as sheets of rain tear down.

“Is that why you were out there?” Warner’s arms come back around my shoulders, guiding me toward the door.

“Y-you don’t think the w-wolf-bear g-got him? D-do you?” My chattering teeth are back and won’t let me get out a full sentence without stumbling over my words. But I don’t care.

No matter how cold I am, Bruce will be equally bad, still stuck in the storm. I pull away from Warner’s arms, needing to make another round of the yard.

Did I check under the car?

“Damn it, Zoey. Bruce is inside the house.” Warner wraps his warm hands around my chilled ones.

How is he not morphing into an icicle like me? His clothes are just as soaked as mine.

“W-what?”

“Come inside. Bruce is inside.”

Despite not fully believing him, I still allow myself to be led out of the cold, wet evening into the warm cabin. But even as the door shuts behind us, I don’t see my dog.

“H-he’s not⁠—”

“He is. Come on.” Warner heads to the guest bedroom, and I follow, stumbling on my numb feet.

Still no Bruce. That is, until Warner gestures I should circle to the other side of the bed.

There, sticking out from under the frame, is a big, beautiful dog butt.

I fall to my soggy knees to peer under the bed, and as I do, I hear a comically loud snore.

“You f-fucking asshole. I almost got eaten for you.” The words should come out angry, but I’m too relieved that he’s here and safe to be mad.

At the sound of my voice, Bruce snorts himself awake. He does a funny roll-shimmy to get out from under the bed before sniffing at my drenched clothes. Shivers still hit me in random bursts as I scratch behind his ears.

“You went searching for him?” Warner asks as he leans on the doorframe, dripping on the hardwood.

“I guess I forgot I let him back in. And when he didn’t come when I called …” I shrug and push myself up from the floor. My shoes squelch with every movement, and my waterlogged clothes cling to my chilled skin. I imagine Warner feels the same discomfort I do. “I’m going to change.”

He nods and makes to move back.

“Do you want to stay? I mean, you should. It can’t be safe to drive in that.”

Rain assaults the windows, and more thunder rumbles.

“I would …” Warner gives me a rueful smile before glancing down at his own soggy state.