“They’re terrible creatures. They …” I shake my head. “They’re impulsive and needy. They piss all over stuff. They lick their butts and beg for food. They whine and bark. And then they …” I pinch the bridge of my nose to push away the emotions burning my eyes. “They give you this look. Stupid, puppy dog eyes that they never grow out of. They rest their snout on your leg and just look at you. Always reminding you that when everything else in life fails, they will be there for you. They listen and never interrupt. They come when you call. They’re always loyal … to the very end.”

“He’s not dead.”

I return a tiny nod. “But he’s old. And …” I fight past this stupid ball of pain choking me. “He looks tired. My mom looked tired.”

Sydney says “I love you” to someone on the phone.

I clear my throat. “See you at Megan’s?”

Jake nods as he bends forward to kiss my cheek. It’s incredibly intimate, like a whispered promise that doesn’t require a single word. Like Swarley gave me when I needed it the most.

Inside, I smile. Is Jake my Swarley? Can he hurt me but still love me? Can he be loyal? That would be a first for me.

I take the key fob from Sydney and nod for her to get in on the passenger’s side.

“I’m so incredibly sorry,” I say as we follow Jake’s truck out of the parking lot.

“You have no reason to apologize for this.” Sydney exhales, staring out her window.

“But if he doesn’t make it—”

“Then he doesn’t make it.” She sniffles.

Jake opens Sydney’s door for her when we pull into Megan’s driveway. He shows her to the guest bedroom, gets her clean towels, and offers to make her something to eat.

I watch the man I’ve fallen in love with treat my sister like family, like he’s known her forever. Jake’s compassionate side blinds me, wraps itself around my heart, and infiltrates my soul.

“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Jake.” Sydney’s smile falters. “I’m going to try to get a little sleep in case Megan calls about Swarley before morning.”

“Night.” She gives me one more hug before disappearing into the guest bedroom.

We play with Megan’s dogs for a few minutes before taking turns using the shower. I tell him to go first because I need a longer shower, the kind that washes away these desperate emotions—the fear of what’s to come. By the time I emerge from the steamy bathroom, wearing Jakes shirt—

My heart has no room for you,

but the trunk of my car definitely does.

—he’s changed the sheets on Megan’s bed. Perched on the side with his tattooed back to me, his thumbs ghost across his phone screen.

“Megan?”