“Let go of me. That dick. I’ve got a few things to say to him.”

She pulled so hard I slid toward her and felt Griff grab my waistband to anchor me. “Holly. Wait. Stop!”

I said it with such authority that Griff let go of my pants. Holly stopped pulling and peered at me. We must have been a sight. Two adults crouched beneath a window, spying at two other adults standing outside, an almost-bald dog panting at our sides.

“He came for Peanut. We told him Peanut had a parasite and was pooping everywhere. Summer and Griff convinced him to let Peanut get better, and after that she would deliver the dog to Tom. Summer showed him a different dog just in case he didn’t go for it. Summer is getting him out of here.” I saw Holly heard me, but the information didn’t seem to cool her anger or change her plans.

“He thinks he can just come here and undo everything we’ve done. He thinks he’s the only person with rights.”

I held my breath. We were minutes from getting away with something, but it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to dissuade Holly from confronting Tom. She had her hand on the door. In one second either Tom would turn his head and see her, or Holly was going to stride out like the High Plains Drifter and take him down.

“Holly,” I said desperately, “if you’re going out there, please give me that kitten on your shoulder first.”

I felt the tension go out of her. She touched the kitten, and in that moment of softness, I added, “If he gets out of here, we can leave today.”

The kitten on Holly’s shoulder nuzzled her neck, and I saw Holly put the pieces together. “Peanut’s not sick. Summer showed him the wrong dog.”

“Keep your eye on the prize,” said Griff. For some reason that struck me as funny, and I let out a hysterical giggle.

“He’s going to leave him here,” she said.

“Probably forget about him.” I wanted Holly to see how crucial this moment was, but I couldn’t get control of my laughter. I clapped my hand over my mouth, and my eyes teared up.

Griff nodded, and his shoulders started to pulse with suppressed glee. “This is all kinds of wrong,” he said.

“Is this okay?” Holly looked at Griff, and he shook his head.

“We deny people pet adoption for all kinds of reasons. We aren’t denying Tom anything, but he’ll never have him delivered. No way. I can spot commitment issues a mile away.” He said this like a balloon with a pinhole leaking air as he laughed into his sleeve.

I peeked over the windowsill. Tom opened the driver’s-side door while Summer looked on. He turned toward the clinic, and Holly dropped like a stone next to us. She landed on my leg and clutched my arm. I grabbed her bicep, like I used to.

Neither Griff nor I could breathe, we were laughing so hard.

Holly smiled, and it looked like she might laugh too. If I could have, I would have held my breath. Then she let out a muted cackle, a fraction of the unbridled laugh from her college days. The kind that when she let it loose, people in the bar stopped drinking and looked on with their own private memories of happy times.

I stopped short of hugging her, but my aura reached out and circled her as if it were valentine red and filled with cotton candy.

Holly peered out the window. “He’s in the cab. He just shut the door. The brake lights are on.”

Griff and I pulled it together and scrambled so we could see out the window. Summer stood at the driver’s-side door, Tom said something to her out the window. She smiled. He patted the door twice, and the camper rolled forward.

“Okay, but how are we going to get out of here if he takes the bus?”

“Summer has it figured out. We’re going to drop off his rental in Kanab, and we can get one for us.”

Summer gave us a surreptitious thumbs-up, but then the camper’s brake lights flashed, the white reverse lights came on, and the camper crept back into position.

“Crap,” said Holly.

“Hide Peanut!” I said.

Griff sprang into action. He took Peanut’s leash and led him back into his old quarantine room.

Holly crouched next to me, and we watched Summer jump lightly onto the running board. It was easy to see her as her younger self, before life and time pushed the girl into a woman. A surge of affection for Summer bumped my anxiety up another notch.

Summer stepped off the running board and jogged toward us. She slammed into the clinic and shouted, “Shampoo! He wants the shampoo for home!”

Holly turned to me, and as if the word shampoo were the baton in a relay race, shouted at me, “Shampoo!”

I turned and was about to shout to Griff, but he rounded the corner at a sprint hugging a heavy plastic jug with a pump top.

Summer tossed Holly the rental car keys and paperwork.

Tom opened the camper door. “No! He’s getting out of the bus,” I said, thinking he really wanted to impress Summer. Make like he was a good guy.

Griff handed off the jug to Summer. It had to be heavy, but she bore it like Wonder Woman.

Summer waddled to the door, pushed her back against it, and moved into the sun in time to intercept Tom. He smiled and loaded the shampoo into the trunk.

“Get into the bus,” I said.

“Get into the bus,” Holly repeated, and I felt myself smile, and it was like no time or anger had ever lived between us.

Summer said something, and Tom handed his phone to her. I’d seen this in movies, so I knew what was happening before Holly said it.

“She’s putting her number into his phone,” I said.

“She is truly taking one for the team,” Griff said.

We watched in wordless reverence as a Tinker Bell look-alike, master manipulator, got up on her toes and gave Tom the kind of hug no man would forget. She wrapped her long, slender arms around his neck like a high school girl at a nineties prom dancing to the theme from Titanic. When she pulled away, Tom coughed, smoothed his shirt over his torso, and reluctantly stepped into the cab.

“Go home, Tom,” Holly whispered.

Summer pointed down the canyon. We all held our breath and watched the camper’s taillights until they were out of view. Summer turned, wiped her hands on her pants like she’d touched something foul, and walked into the clinic.

Holly started a slow clap, and we all joined in. One by one, in deep appreciation of Summer Silva, the girl weaned on the teat of the fake Hollywood screen kiss, we applauded. Unlike any love interest that ever existed, she brushed her hands together and without a smile said, “Do you think he bought it?”

I rushed Summer and hugged her.

She gave me a pat as if to say, Okay, sweetie, we were never in danger. “Oh, for sure.” Summer held three fingers in the air and counted down. “And, three, two, one.” The bird whistle that was Summer’s text notification chirped. With a flourish, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and read. “And so it begins.” She typed something.

Griff came up next to me and whispered, “What’s happening?”

“We are watching what every reality show is based on. Who is the better player?”

“I am a mother trucker,” Summer said and winked at us. “I just sent him a heart emoji. That is going to make him crazy.”

“It will?” Griff asked. Summer looked at him with such unabashed pity even Holly sighed.

“I’ll drive the rental car to Kanab, get us another vehicle,” Holly said.

“Nope, I will,” said Summer. “I got us into this. I’m getting us out. You and Sam have to adopt some dogs.”

Holly had a shimmer that I hadn’t seen this whole trip. These hijinks were what College Holly fed off. Even if she wasn’t shining at me directly, I felt like I had helped bring her some of that joy.

Summer giggled with glee but got serious. “As soon as we get a few miles between us, I’ll block his number, but I’ll be able to track him. I turned on his location share on his phone.” We waited and watched in wonder at the celebrity slash CIA operative in front of us. While I’d been learning that lol meant laugh out loud not lots of love, Summer had probably been planting cameras in her bushes and filming a reality TV series.

“If we adopt Peanut, does that trump any future ownership for Tom?” I asked Griff.

“Yeah. If you officially adopt him right now, he’s yours.”

Holly and I shared a glance that said, Let’s go! And we bolted from the clinic.

Holly and I race-walked to the office of adoptions. The dry sand beneath our feet hushed our steps, and I felt the sun heat the back of my neck.

“Let’s get the papers signed for Peanut and Moose and then see where we’re at.” I cringed at my accidental mentioning of Moose. I was sure to get pushback from Holly, and I didn’t want to hear it. It was none of her business if I was bringing Moose home. I gave her the side-eye, and she looked determined and not mad; relief shot through me.

“Please tell me Summer isn’t going to do something crazy,” said Holly.