Holden is synonymous with heartbreak. He’s the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I’m still not sure what force compelled me to act on my attraction after years of mirroring his indifference, but it’s nothing I need to justify.

Me and Holden are one of those fantasies with flaws. A possibility that you can picture so clearly it seems perfect. But then life gets in the way somehow. Nothing works out exactly the way you imagined it might. Usually it’s for the worst, in a way you make do with by saying it wasn’t meant to be.

I need to stop allowing for the possibility we are meant to be. To focus on the reality of what we are—what he made us. There are certain things I can control. My own future and my own decisions are two of them. Holden is the furthest thing from controlled. He’s unpredictable.

College and veterinary school will get me where I want to go. Speculating—wishing—won’t get me anywhere. Focusing on my work here and my planned path will.

I finish rationing all the food and start setting bowls down in cages with fresh resolve. All the dogs run in when they hear the clank of the metal, eagerly gobbling down their portions. I mark off everything on the master chart, make sure all the plastic canisters are closed, and walk across the hallway into the cat room. It’s empty, with no sign of Susan or Eileen.

I step back into the hallway. There’s a laugh, followed by the murmur of voices. Someone must be here.

Most of my hair came out of its bun while I was working. I yank the elastic out as I follow the sound of commotion, letting my curls fall freely. I run a hand through the tangled mess, turn the corner that leads into the lobby, and freeze.

Susan, Eileen, and Sydney are all gathered by the front desk, staring at…Holden. He’s standing just inside the doorway, holding a stuffed monkey.

“All set?”

It takes me a minute to register Eileen is talking to me. An embarrassing long stretch of time, actually. I’m too busy blinking at Holden like he’s a hallucination that might disappear. But no matter how many times I do, he’s still standing in front of me.

What the hell is he doing here? Holden hasn’t been by the animal shelter since we started high school. It fell away with all the other things we used to do together, becoming nothing but a bittersweet memory.

“Yeah. Dogs are good.” I finally answer Eileen’s question.