“There’s no regret on my part, that’s for sure.” Gabe locked his hand around Samson’s big paw. “Which reminds me… Earlier, when you were talking about the pointer, I know you said your world isn’t set up to take him right now, but what you said about him struck a chord. I felt that way about Samson—this need to do more than make sure he was okay or that he’d be cared for and treated well the rest of his life. I sat with it awhile, but after some time, I grew clear about it. I knew he fit into my life and I needed to do whatever it took to make sure I got him. Thankfully, some of the shelter staff saw that even before I spoke it aloud.”

A few tears unexpectedly stung the backs of her eyelids. She cleared her throat, trying to shake them off. “I’d be lying to pretend I didn’t feel that way about Morgan. There are so many other dogs out there in need of loving homes, and a lot of breeds—smaller ones—that would be better suited for the life I’m going to be able to offer, whenever I can actually offer it. I keep telling myself he’ll be better off if he’s adopted by a family with land or, at the very least, a big fenced-in backyard.

“And I love volunteering at the shelter—so much more than I could’ve imagined—but the truth is, I don’t know if by volunteering there I’m doing myself any favors in terms of getting over that dog. I had him out for a half hour this afternoon. By the end, he was sitting at attention and walking by my side, thanks to a handful of pointers from Patrick. But when I went to put him away, he whined and scratched at the door to his kennel, and my heart felt like it was breaking in two.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and Samson lazily looked between them, his head relaxed and resting against the couch and his gums sagging open in a deranged-looking smile.

“I wish I could keep him for you until you get settled, but the owner of this building has a hard stop at one animal per apartment. I know because I tried to foster a few animals after I started working with Dr. Washington.”