Page 21 of The Way We Were Always Meant To Be

But when Henry Abbott—AKA Dodger—is in my backyard helping my daddy put up my greenhouse, I’m full of uncertainty.

Why? Would be the first question that comes to mind.

Was he bored? Would be the second.

And was he serious about it knocking half the town down, and did he need to make sure it didn’t? That was number three, and it’s not even that big.

Nonetheless, nothing else makes sense outside of any fantasy I build up in my head. And I’m not that sold on any of them yet, so I won’t allow myself to go there.

“Dodger is outside, on my property,” I grind out. “Helpin’ my old man with my greenhouse.”

Bobbie goes back to chewing. “Yeah?”

“What is that?” I throw my hands in the air, exasperated with all the ideas and controversies fluttering around in my head. “He’s here. And I didn’t call him here this time.”

“Ya said he thought it was gonna topple over a buildin’ or something, right?”

Disappointment floods my chest because I did, he did, and that would be the most logical reason. I think, lately, he’s just been teasing me about things because I’ve been needing to call him so much.

“Why do ya look like you’re about to break down and cry?”

I glare up at my soon-to-be ex-bestie because it’s not that deep. And I’m not about to cry. “Why are you here again? If I wanted somethin’ to eat me outta house and home, I would’ve bought a dog.”

“I thought ya were huntin’ down that homeless German shepard that roams around town every few days.”

“His name is Pickles, and I am.”

She smirks before shoving another chip between her lips and says without covering her mouth. “That’s why he runs away from you every time ya try to get close to him. A dog like that ain’t going to appreciate a name like Pickles, Adeline.”

“Well, I haven’t really gotten to know him yet. So maybe I’ll change it.”

“Ya should do that now if ya ever want him to respect you.”

“He’s scared.”

“Because you chase him around, Ad, my God. He’s not interested in being loved by you.”

I frown because I spoil everyone I love. My daddy, my brother, Briggs, my sister, Everly.

It’s my love language.

I love to love up on people and do things for them.

So why Pickles hasn’t caught on to that with all his doggie senses, he might need some more convincing.

“I’ll win him over,” I say confidently. “He will be mine. And I’ll love him, feed him, and give him a good home. I’m gonna make it so good, he’s not going to be able to refuse the offer.”

“Sold,” I hear Dodger’s voice barge flatly into my kitchen, causing me to jolt a little because I wasn’t expecting him to be in my house next.

“Dodger,” Bobbie Jo prompts, thankfully, so I can recuperate. “Tell Addy that Pickles doesn’t want to be loved by her. That he just wants to roam free, on his own, with no qualms about it.”

His brow lifts. “Who?”

“Pickles.”

He looks at me. “Who’s that?”

Oh boy.