lost control of Webster, and he crash-landed into my wading pool.”
“It was always a toss-up as to who owned who,” Ryan said, remembering the day his golden retriever puppy had plopped into the swimming pool. Eight-year-old Zoe, buried beneath twenty-plus pounds of dog, had cried, not because she was hurt, but because she was worried that Webster had been injured.
His expression darkened as he recalled another day, the one when he’d buried his parents in the cemetery around the corner and then came to defiantly hammer a For Sale sign, much like the one in the yard now, into the ground. Webster’s loud bark had accompanied each pound, until Zoe had come to the rescue of both man and dog, ordering him into the shower and taking Webster for a much needed walk.
From the doorway, he’d watched the two of them flash down the street, wishing he could always be with them, with her, with anyone, anywhere but in this house, alone.
A long silence stretched between them, until Zoe stood abruptly. “I’m sorry Truth or Dare got a bit out of hand.”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hands down his face. “It’s been a big-drama day for the both of us.”
Ryan watched as Zoe jogged across the yard and into the house. He slowly walked to the edge of the yard, stopping at the For Sale sign.
And for a moment, a brief moment, he wished he could turn back time.
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