Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,26
believe Penelope was abused?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure. It’s a possibility. She could be a stray because she ran from an abusive owner.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose.
Beck heard it. Gave me a look of concern. “Lucky you and I were there to rescue her, huh?”
I held his gaze for a moment, throat tight. “Very lucky indeed.” I stretched my feet out, leaning back. Dug into my purse for my ever-present glass bottle of kombucha. I’d managed to limit my intake of corn chips and sour gummy candy to a mere handful of each this week. “Want some while we’re sitting here?”
“What is it?”
“Kombucha. I brought an extra cup for you.”
“You brought this for… me?” he asked.
“It’s meant to be shared with friends”
“We’re friends?” He looked skeptical.
“Of course. We’ve had two fights, you’ve seen me publicly shamed and now we’re helping rehabilitate a dog together. Doesn’t that make us friends?”
Beck gave me a quizzical look as I poured the carbonated drink into a cup and handed it to him. “What’s in it?” he asked.
“A symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast.”
He pressed it back into my hand. “Nope.”
“Your loss.” But he wouldn’t stop eyeing it.
Penelope stirred in the corner, then pulled herself low about a foot across the ground.
I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and whispered, “Did you see that?”
He smiled. “I did.”
We sat in silence for a minute, both of us watching for signs of progress from the dog in the corner. He cleared his throat, shifted next to me. “So, uh… when did you start drinking bacteria?”
That startled a laugh from me. Even Beck looked a little amused. “My parents raised me in Coconut Grove. It’s a neighborhood here in Miami that still believes it’s the Summer of Love. Hippies abound. Bongos everywhere. And kombucha basically ran from our taps.”
Beck nodded like he suddenly understood something. “That’s why you’re the way you are.”
“Just about,” I agreed. “Even before becoming vegan or starting Wild Heart, my parents had always really emphasized the connections that exist between humans, animals and our planet. That we all have a role to play in making the world a better place.”
It was why I felt such a strong connection to the natural beauty of Miami. The ocean was part of my soul, the beach a form of poetry that I craved. I always felt so sure that my true path in life was to do my best to be part of protecting that beauty.
Until recently, that is.
“I like that,” he said simply.
I turned more fully toward him. “Did you always want to start your own nonprofit?”
He blew out a breath. “Elián and I opened Lucky Dog four years ago. Before that, I did all kinds of jobs at animal hospitals, shelters, other rescues. I learned the field, getting my certification in behavioral training.”
“And why did you want to focus on dogs?”
Penelope was inching closer to the food.
“I, uh… well, I was in and out of juvenile detention when I was a teenager.” He stopped talking, almost as if he was startled. I didn’t push—merely folded my legs under me and waited.
“Anyway,” he finally said, “my last time there, I did this program. It paired offenders about to be released with dogs about to be euthanized for behavioral problems. We spent six months with our dogs. They lived with us and we trained them day and night. If all went well, the day of our graduation was the day they got adopted.” He coughed a little, cleared his throat. “My dog was named Willow.”
He was a calm mountain right now—utterly still—but I sensed a riot of emotions brewing beneath the surface. Sensed and let him be. For now. But I thought about his family, what they’d done.
“What was graduation day like?” I asked.
“Willow was adopted by a family with a giant backyard and four active kids. I wrote them letters, tried to see how she was doing. They never wrote back but, uh…” Another cough. “I think she had the life she deserved.”
“You gave that to her,” I said.
But Beck merely shrugged.
“Were your… parents… there?” I asked, each word dropped carefully, so as not to disturb.
Beck turned to me. “No. But that’s okay. I go to all the graduations now, if I can make it, and that’s how I met Jem and Wes.”
I let my head drop back against the grate—tried to imagine Beck and his dog. Beck watching the dog leave. Beck looking out into an audience with no friendly faces looking back.