“Thanks, Kinny.” My nickname feels like a dagger to my heart.

I finish up the kennel I’m working on and then place Daphne, a cat that looks very much like a lemur, back in her kennel. I watch as she spins around on her fresh blanket and takes a seat, only to lift one leg up and lick her private area.

Lovely.

There are two kennels left, and I’m not sure I have it in me to stay in cat row with him, in these close confines, and not lose myself mentally. “I need to wash my hands and check in on some emails. Would it be okay if you clean out the other two kennels?”

“Not a problem,” he says, with a side smile and then goes back to work, as if there isn’t this giant elephant in the room.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Sure.” As I start to walk away, he says, “By the way, you look really good, Kinsley.”

Yup, abort. Abort.

I don’t answer him. I walk away as quickly as I can, trying not to let his words brand me for the day, but as I’m eating lunch later, Herman at my side, all I can hear is that sultry voice washing over me, repeating over and over . . . you look really good, Kinsley.

Three Days Later

“She’s such a sweet cat.” I give Miss Fennel one more pet and then clasp my hands together. “And she’s a lucky girl to be going to such a loving home. Send us updates and pictures.”

“We will,” says the mom of Bernice, the little girl who’s adopting Miss Fennel. “And thank you again.”

I give them a wave and watch them walk out the door, our fifth adoption this week, leaving us with only seven animals currently in our shelter and the possibility of more intake. We have enough room to even take on more animals currently in kill shelters. Marcy has been working with the director at a local shelter, trying to get some of the animals on “death row” to be moved over here.

“The look on Bernice’s face,” Marcy says next to me, holding her heart. “Did you see the bows she made for Miss Fennel’s collar?”

I nod. “I did. So precious. That little girl is going to give Miss Fennel such a wonderful second half of her life.”

“She is.” Marcy sighs and says, “I got off the phone with the kill shelter. They’re transferring seven dogs and three cats.”

“Seriously?” I ask.

Marcy nods. “A few have some medical needs, but thanks to the donations that have been pouring in along with the adoptions, we’ll have plenty of money to cover the costs.”

“That’s so exciting,” I say. I needed this good news.

“We can thank Maddox and his friends for all their help too . . . and you. The combination of you working together has brought unprecedented awareness to the shelter. Bernice’s mom was telling me she’s a huge Rebels fan, and when she saw Maddox post about Miss Fennel the other day, she knew she had to bring her daughter in.”

“Maddox posted about Miss Fennel?”

“Do you not follow him on Instagram?”

“Uh, are you forgetting he broke my heart? Trying to ignore all aspects of him.”

Marcy smiles. “Well, I suggest you check it out on your lunch break.” She winks and starts to walk away. “Oh, and players from the baseball academy will be here later. They’re building the new office furniture.”

“What new office furniture?” I ask, completely confused.

“Didn’t I tell you? Maddox has a friend who works for an office supply company. They donated all new furniture and supplies. It’s in the back. Since the Rebels are out of town right now, he’s sending over some volunteers to build and move all the furniture. I’ll be staying late with them, so no need to worry about it.”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

I put my hands on my hips.

Her smirk grows wider.

“You can’t be on his side,” I finally say.

“Sweetie, I’m not on anyone’s side.”

I point at her. “You’re favoring him.”

“I’m not favoring anyone. I see a man who’s trying to make a difference, show a change in his life, and I’m acknowledging the effort.”

“He’s doing this to get me back.”

“He’s doing this because he’s in love with you, and he would do anything to be close to you. Even if that means picking up animal feces just so he can catch a glimpse of you every few days. Sometimes we have to look past our guarded veils and see reality for what it is, Kinsley.” She gives me a soft smile and retreats to her office.

With a heavier heart than before, I go back to my office as well and open my emails, but as they all blur together, I keep thinking about what Marcy said . . . do you follow him on Instagram?

I do, but I haven’t checked it in a long time out of fear to see what he might be doing.

I glance down at my phone, tempted to check . . .

No.

I take a deep breath. I will not be sucked in.

“I’m only doing this because I can see how sad you are, and you’re desperate to see the man you’ve come to love. I get it. Breakups are hard on pets too. So, this is just for you,” I say to Herman as I curl up on the sofa and unlock my phone.

I spent all day keeping myself busy. I even stayed late to check out the new white furniture that’s so beautiful and makes us look so professional rather than a rundown shop trying to make a difference. When I got home, I took care of the dogs, went on an extra-long walk, fed them, fed myself, cleaned, took a shower . . . and now it’s only eight o’clock and I have nothing else to do. My mind immediately went back to Instagram.

Thank you, Marcy.

I said no, no, no, but then . . . oh poor Herman. I could tell he was missing Maddox, so I told him just this once I’d show him pictures to help him through this hard time.

This has nothing to do with my curiosity and everything to do with Herman.

“Now only a few pictures, okay?” I ask Herman whose head is resting next to my leg but couldn’t care less what I’m doing.

Thanks a lot, man.

I open Instagram and the first picture that comes up is of Maddox and Miss Fennel. Of course. He’s smiling with the cat, looking too adorable it hurts. And the caption talks about how Miss Fennel is up for adoption along with more animals at the shelter he volunteers at and to come adopt.

There’s a glint in his eye, a happiness in his smile, almost as if he’s been lifted from his demons and he’s living a hopeful . . . peace-filled life.

I click on his profile picture, forgetting all about showing Herman, and convince myself that I’m not going to show him because he might be jealous from seeing Maddox with other animals.

Slowly I scroll through his posts, seeing one animal after the other from the shelter, all adopted.

Fritz.

Harmony.

Gary.

Oreo.

Marvin.

Miss Fennel.

They’re all there, in his feed, and now they have homes.

I’m . . . I’m floored.

Tears well in my eyes as overwhelming sensations of regret and anger stir inside of me. Regret for what happened between us, and anger for how he treated me. They swirl together, colliding and clashing, making me feel so utterly confused. I pull up my messages and type out a text before I can stop myself.

Kinsley: Miss Fennel was adopted today.

I press send and then drop my phone to my lap, letting out a loud hiccup of a sob as my cluttered, tumultuous emotions hit me at once.

I swore it was over, that I would never speak to him again. But here I am, texting him, because a piece of me sees him trying, acknowledges his effort, and feels for the boy I grew up with. The damaged, broken boy seeking for anyone to care about him, to love him. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore that boy. Because if I were to be truly honest, that was the boy I fell in love with, many, many years ago.

The boy who slept with a cow for me.

The boy who let me borrow his baseball pants, so it didn’t look like I got my period while wearing my lucky white shorts.

The boy who, without even blinking an eye, told me to move in with him so I could pursue my dream job.

He has a brilliant heart and even though he broke mine, shattered it into a million pieces, it almost feels like slowly, but surely, he’s putting me back together, one crooked, endearing smile, and one adoption at a time.

My phone buzzes on my lap and when I see it’s a text from him, my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

“Oh God,” I whisper, sucking in a large gulp of air, preparing myself. This is it. There’s no returning after this.

If I answer this text, I won’t be able to ignore him any longer.

Then again, have I ever ignored him? I picked up his phone calls, just to hear his voice. I’ve checked on him when he’s been volunteering, and shamelessly, I’ve even watched a few games recently, claiming it to be background noise when in reality, I was hoping for one glimpse.

I pick up my phone and unlock it.

Maddox: She was? That makes me so fucking happy. Thank you, Kinny, for telling me.

Oh Christ.

I can hear his voice.

I can see the excitement in his eyes.

I can practically smell his cologne, as if he was sitting right next to me, arm around me, holding me close.

Kinsley: Yeah, to a little girl named Bernice. They happen to be Rebels fans.