* * * *
The closer they got, the more Andy’s stomach tied itself in knots. God, he had fucked up so bad. Why hadn’t he just asked? Whatever Jason said, Scooter was going to be so angry and disappointed. Docksidecame into view, and Andy had to close his eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jason said. He’d been saying that, or something very like it, for a while, as if he believed repeating it would make it true.
The cab pulled to a stop. Time to face the music.
Andy opened the door and got out, and turned to pull his backpack out. Trick was barking, and Andy turned, and—
“Oof!”—collapsed from the unexpected and slightly lopsided collision of excited dog. “Oh my God, get off, you horrible thing.” Andy grabbed Trick and hugged him, stupidly relieved to see him again. “You dumb mutt, what the hell, huh?” Trick licked his face happily and Andy didn’t even try to push him off, just scrunched eyes and mouth shut and waited for it to be over.