Chapter 2

Cold sweat coated his skin, and he swallowed hard. It had been twenty years. He could pass the bridge. It was only about a hundred and fifty feet long, and yet it had taken up most of his focus as a child. All day in school, he had dreaded having to cross the bridge. Hop hop, carrot top

He shuddered, turned up the volume of the music on his phone, and ran. He’d run the long way around.

* * * *

Caspian Cook looked out through the kitchen window of his rickety house and sighed. It was already getting dark.

“Who wants to go for a walk?” He didn’t, but Moose, his five-year-old Rottweiler mix, flew to his feet, followed by Taco, his two-year-old American Staffy. They looked like mean dogs, especially Taco who had some scars on his face, but they were both cuddly little darlings. Well, they didn’t cuddle with strangers.

“Chocolate!” The eleven-year-old brown Labrador yawned and stretched as she entered the kitchen. “Hi, girl.” Caspian patted her head and scratched her behind her ear. She was his first dog. He’d spent a few years traveling the world, working odd jobs where he could find them, and done everything he could to avoid having to come back here. He’d dreamed about finding a man who mattered enough for him to introduce to his family.

There hadn’t been anyone. Short flings, a few passionate months here and there, but no one special enough to face Hartley for. Nowadays, he was old enough not to give a damn. If people wanted to whisper behind his back, then they were free to do so. All he wanted was someone to share his life with, but there weren’t any men up for the job in Hartley, and he’d long since lost interest in traveling the world to try to find Mr. Right.

He didn’t have tobe here, but after having moved around for years, he’d realized it wasn’t where you were that mattered, it was what you did. Despite being on the other side of the world, his mind had been here. Hartley was his home. It was where his mom and dad were, and they weren’t getting any younger

No matter where he was, he was angry with Blade, and no matter what he did, he worried about his father.

So, he’d moved back, bought Wilson’s old farm, and gone back to work in his dad’s garage. Dad didn’t work anymore, but he still came by several times a week, grunting as he watched Caspian work. The company was still in his name despite Caspian doing all the work, but he didn’t care. Sure, he thought of the garage as his, but being a car mechanic wasn’t what he grew up dreaming about becoming.

Cars were fine, though, and it was a decent job—a solid, work-with-your-hands kind of job.

He grabbed the leashes and opened the door. All three dogs fell into step next to him. It wasn’t until he came down to the walk by the river, that he put a leash on Taco. Not because he didn’t trust him to stay by his side, but here they often met people who were scared by his appearance.

No one knew Taco’s background. Caspian had gotten him from a shelter, and in the beginning, he only meant to foster him. But as the weeks went by and the other dogs accepted him as one of them, he found he couldn’t give him up.

It had been the same thing with Moose. He meant to foster him. They’d found him bound to a tree by an abandoned building. When Caspian had gotten him every bone in his body had been visible, and his heart had broken for the poor mutt.

He couldn’t give him up.

He sighed. He wanted to help; wanted to foster dogs for the shelter, help them find forever homes, but, so far he’d been unable to give them back once they’d come into his home.

He wasn’t cut out to foster animals.

The roar of the water from the hydroelectric plant grew in volume, and Caspian looked out over the river. On this side of the dam, the water was black and calm with the occasional swirl, but closer to the plant the water rushed through the floodgates with force.

Caspian breathed in deep. The air was different near the river. He loved seeing the water cascade down on the other side of the dam. The roaring fury as it hit the rocks below and met up with the river again spoke to him. He could watch it for hours, but the dogs grew impatient if he stood staring for too long.

As he came closer to the footbridge, he called Moose in. Someone was standing there. The closer he got, the more frantically his heart beat. Flynn?Could it be Flynn Thomas?

Caspian forgot how to breathe as the light of the lamp by the bridge fell on the man’s red hair. Caspian had only ever known one red-haired man. Well, he hadn’t knownFlynn, but he’d watched him—watched him every chance he got.