Dinner that night felt strangely warm, the kind of warmth that seeped past skin and settled deep in my chest. Jared laughed more than usual, his small body practically bouncing with restless energy, and by the time we finished eating, he was flushed and sweating from all the excitement.
Elliot reached over and ruffled his hair, the gesture so natural it stirred something uneasy in me. "Jared, do you like my place?" he asked, his voice softer than the commanding tone he used around others.
"I do!" Jared answered instantly, stuffing his mouth like a little squirrel preparing for winter.
A quiet laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. Of course he does. The den, the food, the comfort—it was everything a young pup would instinctively gravitate toward. Safety. Abundance. Strength.
