32. “I Missed You.”

THIRTY-TWO

“I MISSED YOU.”

SHEP

It’s been three weeks since Harlow and I have talked. I miss her so much it hurts.

I didn’t realize how much she had become a part of my daily life until suddenly she wasn’t in it anymore.

I know we hadn’t really even started talking that much over the phone but I still wish I was able to hear from her. After a week of sitting at home, I finally got cleared to return to the rec for work but I wasn’t even excited about it. What’s the point if Harlow isn’t going to be there?

Wes and Lennon are still hanging out, and as much as they try to hide it, it’s obvious. I’m happy for the guy but it’s also not making this any easier for me. Not to mention, Lennon won’t talk to me either.

I know this is what Harlow needs and I want to support her, but it’s seriously doing a number on me. The only relief I have is knowing Beckett is gone and Harlow is back with her team. I ran into Pierce the other day and he told me that she’s doing great and they think she might be able to race in the meet coming up before Halloween.

While I’m optimistic that before then Harlow and I might start talking, I’m not getting my hopes up. I’m also not wanting to fall into the category of the guy who can’t function without the girl, so I’ve been focusing on my senior thesis project and spending more time with Dad at the precinct, trying to narrow down what I want to do.

Lennon mentioned something the other week when she was over at our house about how Dahlia would make an incredible therapy dog. We’ve always joked about her being our emotional support pet, but when Lennon said that, it got me thinking.

I started doing research on what it takes for dogs to become ESAs and therapy dogs–I learned that there’s a huge and important difference–and I realized that maybe this was something I could do for the precinct.

My dad had mentioned a while ago that they were interested in a program like this but needed someone to get it off the ground. I only wish it hadn’t taken me until now to put it together that I want to be that someone.

When I began to look into the process for this project, I realized I was coming up short in one area. The dogs needed to have homes to reside in while doing the training. Then they’d need to be paired with handlers who’d continue their training and bring them to work when needed. This discovery led me to be where I am at this current moment: the precinct meeting room.

About fifteen cops are here and all looking at me, the Sheriff’s kid, waiting to see what bullshit I’m on now. Most of these guys have known me for at least five years, some less, but they know I’m always trying to get involved.

I’m trying not to focus on the very real possibility that this idea could go nowhere and then I’ll be back trying to figure out some mundane job for myself. Dahlia is lying by my feet, already setting the perfect example of what this program should be like.

I clear my throat and everyone’s eyes are on me. I know I’m prepared for this, but standing in front of the room now, it’s like I haven’t spoken in public before.

“Right,” I start. “So, thank you all for coming. I know that most of you are here because of who my dad is but I’m going to ignore that.”

That warrants a few chuckles from the guys and I continue on.

“If you don’t know who my dad is, I’m Shep Fords meaning, yes, my dad is the sheriff. But what most of you probably don’t know is I’m pursuing my degree in criminal justice and I have to complete a senior thesis in order to graduate. Before any of you get worried that you’re here to be roped into some research project, that’s not the case.”

As I finish my sentence, Dad walks into the room and grabs a chair in the back. I would be nervous but I already gave him this exact presentation a few days ago when he gave me the go-ahead on this idea.

“This is my dog, Dahlia.” I motion down to the sleepy brown lump resting near my feet. “I rescued her from our local shelter here and she’s an incredible dog. I know what most of you probably thought when you first saw her, she’s a pitbull, and that’s even more important to what I have to say.”

I go on to tell the different guys in the room that for my senior thesis, I would like to enlist the help of anyone who is willing to foster a dog from the local shelter and be a part of helping train these dogs to create E.V.E.S.T., or the Everson Valley Emotional Support Taskforce. This garnered a lot of eyebrow raises and leaning forward on the tables.

I was clear with them that this was not to be confused with therapy dogs because that’s an entirely different level of training and requirements.

“I spent the last few weeks already going over some of the more basic commands with Dahlia, who took quickly to the training. This of course is not always going to be the case, but here is an example of what we might have these dogs do. Imagine, I’m a teenager who just witnessed something horrible happen and now I’m in the precinct waiting to answer questions. This is a very high stress situation and a lot of times, adolescents don’t know how to regulate their emotions yet during circumstances like this. I’m sure you all know how important it is to have the person you’re asking questions be calm, and this is where one of the E.V.E.S.T. dogs would come in.”

I walk over to a chair and sit down. Dahlia is still laying in the same spot and all the guys are craning to watch her and me.

“I’m going to start bouncing my knee like someone who’s nervous might.”

Dahlia, please don’t decide this is the moment you want to stop listening to me.

“Dahlia, come.” She perks up and saunters over before stopping next to me. “Sit.” She does, thank God. Then I put my finger on my thigh near my knee and look at her. “Lay.”

This is the moment of truth and I could cry tears of joy when Dahlia leans her head forward and lays it on my lap.

Various wow s, ooh s, and even an oh shit ring out from the room. I wait for a few more seconds before rewarding Dahlia with a treat then have her lie down next to me again.

I look to the back of the room and Dad is beaming. I know this is such a small step, but for once I feel like I’m doing something I’m proud of. I only wish Harlow was able to hear about it.

I go over the rest of the details regarding meeting with the shelter, getting matched with dogs who seem like good candidates and how many of these dogs might be pitbulls, then speak with a few more guys before the hour is up. By the end of it all, there are four guys who can commit fully to fostering, training both at home and then once a week with the group, and would even consider becoming handlers.

“You did good, son.” Dad places a hand on my arm.

“Are you sure about this? You really want to give up some of your guys to help me out?” I still want to make sure I have his blessing.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have helped you come up with a name for the program if I didn’t believe in it.” He smiles. “Now go on and call your mother because she’s been texting me and asking for pictures as if this was a school science fair or something.”

Hugging him goodbye, I grab Dahlia’s leash and start to walk out the door with her. It honestly makes me laugh how unbothered she is by her surroundings. She really never reacts to anything?—

“Dahlia, wait!” Before I can stop her, she’s pulled on her leash and is racing across the street towards the other side of the road. “Dahlia, stop!”

Thankfully there aren’t any cars, but it doesn’t mean my heart isn’t in my ass. I slow my jog and finally catch up after losing sight of her behind one of the parked cars and I’ll be damned.

Rolled over on her back with her tongue hanging out, Dahlia is getting her belly rubbed by the one reason worth distracting her enough to pull away from me.

“Harlow,” my voice comes out shaky. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t grab her leash quick enough.”

She looks up at me and her green eyes are brighter and clearer than they’ve ever been. She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder before standing up and wiping her hands off on the front of her pants. Of course she’s wearing a crop top and flannel with her Docs, but these ones don't have laces.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m glad I was able to intercept her.” She laughs and my entire body feels like it could crumble to the floor.

“She was actually running to you, so that worked out.” I ruffle my hair with my hands nervously, looking around to see if she’s with anyone. “Getting coffee with someone?”

God, I sound pathetic.

“My sister, Margot. She’s moving back here in a few months so she’s been visiting more often. Especially after…” She looks down and I know she’s talking about the fight.

“Gotcha, well I’m sorry to catch you like this. I hope you’re doing okay.” Wrong. I hope you’re doing more than okay. I hope you’re getting everything you want. I just want to be a part of it.

“Thanks. I’ve just been trying to keep up with life. Obviously there’s a lot I’m still figuring out, but I’m managing.” She smiles and it not only looks genuine, but it fills me with a warmth that lets me know it is genuine.

“I’m glad. Well, I’ll let you go. It was good to see you.” I miss you.

“Yeah, you too. Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t?—”

“Harlow, it was good to see you. Take care of yourself.”

I cut her off before any type of apology can leave her perfect, pouty lips. She asked for space, I’m giving it to her. She doesn’t need to apologize and I’m not going to try and end that space sooner than she wants, no matter how badly I’m craving her.

Walking away, Dahlia trots next to me and I pull my phone out to call Mom, knowing if I don’t do something else, I’ll turn right back around and try to talk to Harlow more.

Dahlia stops, beginning to pull on her leash again. I start to tell her to come on, when my eyes follow hers and a blur of blonde and flannel is making its way towards me at an unprecedented rate.

Before I can react, a body thuds against mine and I feel arms wrapping around my neck. The smell of vanilla spice and cherries fills my nose and I realize Harlow is hugging me. Standing there frozen, I finally wrap my arms around her and pull her tightly to my chest. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not going to argue. My heart is hammering inside my chest and every urge I’ve ever felt for Harlow is trying to push its way to the surface.

“I missed you,” I hear her say, and I close my eyes, absorbing every ounce of her that I can before setting her back down.

She looks up at me with this gleam in her eyes that seriously takes my breath away before turning around and walking back to the coffee shop, but not without looking over her shoulder one more time and giving me the most incredible smile. That’s it. I think I’m done for.

All the feelings and thoughts I’ve been going over for the last few weeks without talking to that beautiful girl settle in me at the mere sight of her. My heart settles. I think I love Harlow Sutherland.