Home Is Where Your Bark Is

Chapter 15

Jake glanced at the clock. It was just after six, and his Monday had flown by. Dinner wouldn’t be done at six thirty when Jenna got here—assuming she’d arrive on time—but it wouldn’t be long afterward. After all his talk about liking to cook, he’d ended up choosing something that wasn’t overly time-consuming: chicken piccata with sides of roasted veggies and smashed potatoes.

His workday had been too packed putting out one small fire after another to give much thought to cooking anything tonight that he hadn’t already mastered without relying on a recipe.

Seven didn’t realize it, but he should be thanking his lucky stars Jake had been able to order curbside pickup for the grocery items he hadn’t had on hand, therefore relieving Jake of the need to battle locking the dog in the crate in order to run inside the store.

The dog would need to get used to the kennel soon enough and, seeing how Seven had yet to so much as creep inside the propped-open door to snatch the giant rawhide or supposedly irresistible peanut chew waiting for him at the back of it, Jake had doubts about coaxing him in easily.

Rather than begin that battle the first time today, he’d loaded Seven into the rental during his lunch hour and run by for the grocery pickup after a short stop at Jenna’s. Seven had gotten to chase down a dozen balls and Frisbees, but that hadn’t been enough to dampen the dog’s energy level this afternoon.

After that, Jake had risked being late for his one thirty client call to drop off a bag of Alyssa’s things that had still been in his apartment, tucked into drawers and closets. He’d suspected she was home but having neither the time nor inclination for a face-to-face conversation while she was undoubtedly still simmering, he’d left it at the door rather than knocking. After getting back to his place, he’d texted that he’d dropped it off. Hopefully he wasn’t being overly optimistic that she was getting the closure she needed when she did nothing more than text him back the middle finger emoji.

Finished browning the chicken, Jake transferred the slices to a plate and added the garlic to his favorite cast-iron skillet and let it soften before adding the wine—Sauvignon Blanc—and boiling it until it was reduced by half. As he was adding the chicken stock, lemon zest, thyme, capers, and bay leaf, he glanced over to find Seven standing in the middle of the wide entryway between the kitchen and living room. One of Jake’s running shoes was hanging loosely from his mouth. When Jake met his gaze, Seven wagged his tail hopefully, and a laugh erupted before Jake could tamp it down. Sometimes this training thing was hard to do with a straight face.

“Let me guess… You want to go for a walk, huh? What I want to know is how’d you get the coat closet door open? Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure I had it soundly shut, given your affinity for shoes.”

Rather than knobs, Jake’s interior condo doors had aged bronze lever sets that could be opened with the simple downward press of a hand—or paw—but Jake wasn’t ready to give Seven credit for having worked that out already. Until proven otherwise, Jake would stick with the belief that the door had been ajar.

For the most part, Seven had been fairly well behaved these last couple days, chewing only on his toys and antlers, though he still paced circles around the front room with an unsettled intensity Jake had never witnessed in a dog.

He’d caught Seven gnawing on the coffee table leg again earlier this afternoon and had stepped forward to stop him with a firm “No, Seven” that he intended to follow with an attempt at redirection, but the terrified dog had dashed away into the corner, letting out a howl/whine combo that nearly snapped Jake’s heart in two. How long would it take for the dog to trust that Jake was never going to hit him?

“Sorry to be a buzzkill, but I’ve got a bit longer before I’m finished in here, and that shoe isn’t for drooling on. How about you let me get this in the oven, then I’ll run you outside for a quick walk before Jenna gets here?”

As if he understood, Seven dropped Jake’s cobalt-blue and white-trimmed shoe onto the hardwood floor at his paws. His bushy tail continued swishing slowly back and forth in that semi-hopeful wag of his, like he wasn’t ready to admit he wanted to play even though inside he was bursting to do so.

Lowering the gas flame on the stove, Jake headed for the shoe more casually than he’d approached the table leg gnawing earlier today, and Seven did nothing more than back up a few steps at Jake’s approach. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small victory, but Jake was taking what he could get.

After returning his unharmed shoe to the closet and firmly shutting the door, Jake pulled out a Nylabone from Seven’s toy basket. Seven looked at it with the same displeasure he’d given the piece of broccoli Jake had tossed him earlier. Turning away, Seven headed to the windows to stare out into the street below, and Jake went back to the kitchen with a chuckle in his throat.

Once the broth returned to a boil, Jake returned the seared chicken to the skillet with a pair of long-handled tongs, then set the skillet in the oven next to the stoneware dish of veggies that were already roasting. Last to finish up were the smashed potatoes, but he’d already pre-boiled the baby potatoes and simply needed to toss them with olive oil, crushed garlic, salt, and pepper before smashing them onto a quarter sheet pan using the bottom of a round glass. After sliding them in the oven on the lower rack, Jake set the timer.

Everything would be ready close to the same time, thanks to a bit of finagling with desired cooking temps and placing the dishes in the oven at different times. After he wiped his hands on a towel, Jake glanced over to call Seven from the window, only to find the dog was staring him down again, this time from a bit further away, Jake’s shoe dangling from his mouth once more.

Jake cleared his throat to suppress a hearty laugh. “Well, that settles that. You can open doors.” This time, Seven lowered Jake’s shoe to the hardwood with surprising gentleness, then stepped back, that fluffy tail wagging hopefully. “And there’s gotta be five pairs of shoes in there, yet you realize exactly which ones I’ve been wearing when I take you on a run or to Jenna’s.”

Jake glanced at his watch. It was closing in on six thirty, and he was one of those cooks who put things he no longer needed away as he worked rather than saving it all for the end, so the kitchen wasn’t a disaster, even though it was far from immaculate. Hopefully, Jenna would forgive him a little mess in exchange for a more contented dog.

Jake headed over for his shoe and found that this time it was the left, while last time it had been the right. “At least they’re equally slobbered on, huh?” Picking it up off the floor, Jake realized this was one of those times he really needed the advice of a trainer. Was it better for Seven’s growth to focus on what he was doing wrong—going for Jake’s shoes—or what he was doing right—attempting to communicate his needs, a step toward trust and connection. Until convinced otherwise, Jake opted to go with the latter. “Slightly damp at the heels or not, I wasn’t going to wear my running shoes on a date—even though that’s not what I should be calling this.”

Jake headed for the closet and opened the door, and Seven trailed five or six feet behind, watching him hopefully. After returning the sneaker to the rack, Jake gave his shoes a once-over. He’d stay in the jeans he was already wearing but change into a shirt that didn’t smell like he’d been cooking. He kicked out of the Nike athletic sandals he’d been wearing around the house and put them on the rack too. “What do you think? Boat shoes or loafers? No to the oxfords, given how we’re staying in.”

He glanced back at Seven, whose head was slightly cocked and his ears perked forward.

“Loafers it is.” Jake slipped them on, then jogged back to his room to pull on a clean Henley and tossed his T-shirt into the laundry basket. When he came out, Seven pranced by the front door. “If you’ve been trying to tell me you have to go to the bathroom, I’m gonna feel really bad.”

Jake made quick work of grabbing the leash, a couple treats, and a few pet waste bags and knelt by the front door after Seven backed away at his approach. He held up the leash the way he’d been doing, making it clear what he wanted Seven to do.

After quirking his head from side to side a few times, Seven let out a single, ear-piercing bark and bounded forward. When Jake reached for his collar, as always, every muscle in Seven’s body seemed to tense as he froze in place, waiting for the click of the leash onto his collar. As soon as he heard it, Seven backed off a few feet and shook himself like he’d just gotten a bath.

“Come on now, Seven. Is a little bit of human contact really so bad?” Seven’s pressed-back ears and lowered head expressed that it was. “Watch it now, or I’m going to start telling people you have a flair for the dramatic.”

As Seven trotted down the stairs a step or two ahead of him, it hit Jake how it had been a long time, a few years maybe, since his mood had been this light and hopeful. Funny, but up until now, he’d only been thinking about how this fostering thing could make a difference in Seven’s life, not about how it could make a difference in his.

***

The twelve-inch potted plant in Jenna’s arms—a vibrant Christmas cactus in its second bloom that would be easy to care for—proved heavier and heavier the further down Milwaukee she made it. The matching saucer for collecting water underneath the pot was in her shoulder bag, and Jenna was half-tempted to slip the plant in there for a block or two as well to give her forearms a breather.

Jake had texted earlier, offering to pick her up, but Jenna had declined, commenting on how the walk over was just what she needed. What she hadn’t counted on was what the breezy afternoon was undoubtedly doing to her hair. It would be a wild mess by the time she got to his place, and she hadn’t thought to grab a hair tie.

In her back pocket, Jenna’s phone buzzed for the second time in a row, which meant her sister was calling. Monica was the only one to consistently call back if her first call wasn’t picked up. Knowing she’d keep calling, Jenna moved to the edge of the sidewalk and set the pot down before pressing the speaker button to answer the call. Her arms thanked her for the breather.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Wanna come over tonight? Stuart can run over and get you if you don’t want to Uber. He wants to see how you’re doing anyway.”

That’s a hard no. “Can’t. I have dinner plans tonight.”

“With who?”

“Whom.”

“Seriously, you’re correcting my ‘whoms’?”

Technically, her lack of them, but Jenna figured her sister wouldn’t appreciate the comment. “To answer your question, with a friend.”

“Which friend?”

Contemplating her reply, Jenna closed her eyes and rolled her neck in a circle in hopes of mitigating a tinge of whiplash.

Monica jumped in before Jenna came up with an answer that her sister was likely to receive well. “You’re such a liar. You’re seeing the guy from the accident, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t realize there was a disclaimer as to how long I have to know someone to call them a friend.”

“When you want to get in their pants, then they’re called a potential love interest, not a friend.”

“Considering I haven’t given a thought to his pants, then I was right with the label I’ve granted him.” You’ve given a little bit of thought to his pants, or at least what’s under them, haven’t you now?

Monica huffed. “Where’re you meeting him?”

One of the cars passing by was blaring music through open windows, and for a moment, Jenna couldn’t hear anything other than the Kid Laroi and Justin Bieber belting out the lyrics to “Stay.” Jenna turned away from the street, taking her phone off speaker and pressing it to her ear. “Not far from my place.”

“Not far from your place…like his place? You seriously aren’t going to a stranger’s house, are you?”

Jenna pursed her lips. Maybe her sister was irritating her so much because she was right. “If memory serves, you went home with Stuart three hours after meeting him.”

“Ouch. And maybe so, but you’d known him a whole semester, so I knew he was safe.”

Jenna checked herself. This was not a fight she wanted to have. Besides, she and Monica could go down rabbit holes of who did what faster than anyone she knew. In the background, Jenna could hear the boys starting to fight, and Joseph’s escalated pitch warned that tears weren’t far behind.

“Can you just trust me, please? I’m not jumping into anything tonight, promise. And I have a phone on me, obviously. If it makes you feel better, I’ll text his address.”

“Fine, but the boys got a bunch of new books from the library, and they wanted you to read to them.”

“Aww, sweet. Tell them they can bring their favorites when they come over Saturday night for me to babysit.”

“Fine, and since it’s been so long, if you end up getting L-A-I-D tonight—which I’m not saying you should—just remember that new-relationship ecstasy is shockingly short-lived.”

“How is it you’re both ten steps ahead and prophesying doom at the same time?”

Monica snorted. “If that’s not a tagline for untreated anxiety, it should be, and yes, I know that’s what I have, but I’m still on the boat of belief that it works in my favor.”

After they hung up, Jenna checked the distance remaining to Jake’s condo before tucking her phone into her pocket. It was less than three blocks from here, but she’d have to cross the street and head down California. Given the rush-hour traffic and steady stream of cars passing by, Jenna determined to wait for the pedestrian crossing signal at the lone traffic light she still needed to pass.

As she hoisted the pot, a wave of doubt crept over her. A thank-you present for what Jake was doing by taking Seven on like this wasn’t out of line, nor was giving him one of her potted plants. What she was doubting was the pot she’d chosen. After seeing how Seven was making such great strides Saturday, Jenna had found herself sketching both dog and caregiver again last night. She’d woken up at first light today, tired and headachy but unable to sleep any longer, and she’d decided to paint her favorite of the sketches on a pot for Jake—one without Jake in it because that would’ve been too much. Obviously.

After a two-hour midday nap during which she’d slept like the dead, she’d glazed the pot and set it in front of a fan to dry. It was of Seven sitting on his haunches, head cocked at an angle and ears perked forward, his paw on a lone red Frisbee in the grass. If Jenna was a reliable judge of her own work, she’d captured a somewhat realistic touch of that charismatic expression of his.

Still, Jake had only committed to fostering him. If Seven proved too much for him— please, please don’t let that be the case —this gift could turn into a sad reminder of a failed attempt.

But it was too late to back out. Jenna spotted someone waving at her from the opposite side of the street, just over a block ahead. That someone was Jake, with Seven at his side, sniffing the base of a light post.

Hoisting the pot in one arm, Jenna waved back. Because the traffic was too loud for him to hear her, she pointed toward the intersection ahead where there was a crosswalk. For Jake, that was only twenty or so feet behind him. Suddenly, the pot felt weightless as Jenna continued along on her side of the street as nerves threatened to get the best of her. What if he does want sex tonight? And what if that’s all he wants?

At the intersection, Jenna used her elbow to press the pedestrian crossing button, and before her nerves got the best of her, it was time to cross. After confirming the cars were stopping, she stepped into the crossing lane. Halfway across, a gust of westerly wind picked up, whipping the leaves of the cactus. Jenna felt grains of potting soil flicking against her cheeks at the exact second one landed in her left eye. It was big enough—and painful enough—that her eye immediately began to water.

Because Medusa hair wasn’t bad enough.

As she neared the other side, left eye closed tight as tears streamed out from behind clamped lids, Seven must’ve realized he knew her because he yipped a couple times in greeting. Under different circumstances, this would’ve made Jenna’s day.

“Hey there,” Jake said as she closed in the last few feet to the sidewalk. “Looks like you’ve got a fan. He had to go to the bathroom, so I figured we’d head this way and see if we could spot you.” After a pause, he added, “That’s not the glare of the sun causing you to squint like that, is it? You okay?”

Jenna shook her head. “Can you take this a sec? It’s for you. Obviously.” Jenna was too busy bending over to block the wind while attempting to blink the obtrusion out of her eye to notice Jake’s reaction, but his tone said enough.

“Damn, Jenna. This is incredible! You nailed that expression of his perfectly. Thank you! It’s really well done. And earlier today I was thinking about how I don’t have a single plant in my place.”

While still doubled over, Jenna offered out a reply. “You’re welcome, and if you want more green in your space, you know where to come.”

“Yeah, I do.” After a pause, he added, “Any luck?”

“Not yet.” Whatever was in her eye hurt.

Jake’s hand closed over the back of her arm. “Hey, let’s step over this way out of the wind. If I can see what’s in there, I can get it out.”

“I think I may have got it.” Such a lie, clearly. She could hardly open her eye, and tears were still streaming down it.

With the pot in one arm and the leash around the wrist of the hand holding onto her, Jake guided her to the front of a two-story building out of the direct wind. Before she realized it was going to happen, he set the pot down and stepped close. “Really? Because you look like you’re hurting. Can you look up for me?”

He was so close they could be dancing, and Jenna savored the warmth radiating from his body against hers. His thumb brushed over her lower lid, and despite the pain in her eye, Jenna’s breath stilled at the experience of his touch. “I see it, and I think I can get it, so long as you don’t move.”

As she held still, Jake lowered her lid with one finger and used another to sweep out the offending object from the white of her eye. “There. Looks like it was a grain of sand, of all things.”

Jenna blinked, and relief swept over her. “Wow, that’s better. Thanks. And the offender being a grain of sand isn’t actually that random.”

“Is there sand in the soil?”

“Yeah, the Christmas cactus is one of those plants that needs good drainage and does better when you mix the soil with sand. Though this is the first time I’ve managed to get a grain of it in my eye.”

She did her best to dry the tears still clinging to her cheek and lower lid without smearing her makeup any more than it undoubtedly already was. So much for looking better than when I was wheeled out of the hospital.

Just as Jake was leaning down to pick up the pot, Seven was lifting his back leg to scent mark it. “Hey, Seven, no!” It was a firm no, but his tone was far from harsh.

Even so, Seven bolted to the end of his leash and tugged against it, tail tucked tight against his hind end like he was bracing for a blow. Jenna was afraid he’d get away, but his collar proved tight enough not to slip over his head, and Jake held fast to the leash’s handle. “Easy, bud. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He kept speaking in an easy, low voice until Seven stopped fighting the leash.

Letting out a breath, Jake sank onto his heels and held out his hand. “It’s okay, Seven. You just can’t pee on my new Christmas cactus. It’s one of a kind. Plants N Pots by Jenna.”

The comment brought a smile to Jenna’s face, and at the same time, Seven’s tail relaxed even though his ears remained tamped back against his head.

Still resting on his heels, Jake glanced up at Jenna. “Someone along the line treated him quite poorly, it seems.” He shook his head, and Jenna glimpsed the anger over this injustice boiling under his surface. “If I could communicate just one thing to him, it’s that I’m never going to hurt him.”

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, eventually he’s going to get it; I’m sure.”

Jake pulled a treat from his pocket and extended his hand, the treat resting in the center of his palm. Seven’s ears instantly pricked forward, but he didn’t budge a single step forward. On the street, a steady stream of cars passed by, but Seven didn’t so much as glance toward them, even when someone yelled “Pretty dog!” out an open car window. A bird landed in a tree overhead, and Seven glanced upward for a second or two before returning his gaze to Jake’s outstretched hand. After another few seconds went by, Seven let out a soft whine.

“Come on, boy. A couple steps and it’s yours, but I can’t wait you out too long. Dinner’s in the oven, and we’ve got to get back, or Jenna’s going to think I can’t cook. We don’t want that, do we?”

Jake slid the treat down his hand and caught it between the tips of his fingers, raising it out that way, and Seven abruptly sank onto his haunches like he’d been asked to sit. With too much distance separating them, Jake stood up and stepped forward, while Seven remained sitting at attention like a sentinel. This time, when Jake offered the treat his direction, the dog snatched it from the tips of Jake’s fingers.

“Good boy, Seven.” As Seven chomped the treat, Jake picked up the pot, holding it in one arm and the leash in the other. “What I don’t want is to force him to do things—other than not chewing up my stuff—but that’s all the interaction with people he seems to have had.”

Jenna stepped into stride alongside Jake as they headed toward his apartment. “I think you’re right that that’s all he knows—obedience and punishment for the lack of it—or that’s what’s been driven home the deepest. But he’s only two or so. I have faith he’ll figure out that this companionship thing isn’t so bad, as long as you have the patience to wait him out.”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Is this the right time to own up to a lifetime of struggle with ADHD and a track record of having a terrible time waiting for anything?”

From his tone, he’d clearly made peace with this fact about himself, so Jenna didn’t feel bad about the laugh that tumbled out. “After seeing you with him Saturday, I never would’ve guessed that.”

“Yeah, well, after struggling through undergrad, I knew I’d never get through law school without some significant changes. I took a year off school and figured out how to help myself move through some of the most challenging symptoms. I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered the whole thing, but life is less of a struggle now. Hopefully this experience with him won’t prove I don’t have the patience I thought I had.”

“Well, I don’t know that much about ADHD, but I’ve seen you with him enough that I’m sure there’s an opportunity for a win-win here.” Jenna waggled her eyebrows. “You helping Seven learn how to trust, and him helping you continue to expand your capacity for patience.” The way Jake looked at her before he spoke, Jenna worried her words had offended him.

“I just heard a podcast about that the other day, about how you can’t change someone or something with being changed yourself. Maybe it’s a bit esoteric, but it struck a chord.”

Seven, who’d been trotting just ahead of them and occasionally pausing to sniff a myriad of bushes and lampposts glanced up suddenly, as if their conversation had piqued his interest. He barked at them once, a single yip that was loud even among the surrounding noise.

Jenna nudged Jake in the arm. “Sounds like it struck a chord with him too.”

“You think? That kind of sounded like ‘fat chance’ to me.”

Jenna laughed along with him. “One thing’s for sure. You two are made for each other.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad you’re coming along for this ride, however crazy it proves to be.”

When she met Jake’s gaze, his mouth pulled into a small, private smile that hers automatically reciprocated, and happiness radiated down to her toes. She wasn’t going to be the one doing the work, not like Seven, and not even like Jake, but that thing he’d said about changing and being changed… She wanted to step into that arena, too, however it played out.