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Chapter Text

Caitlyn Kiramman had never been one to act impulsively. Her life was neatly arranged, her days mapped with precision, and her choices measured with care. Which is why her impulsively getting a dog was so deeply out of character. The Kirammans had Dobermans growing up, it wasn’t like Caitlyn had never owned a dog before. The impulse decision simply meant the meticulous research on the best dog bed, training methods, toys, enrichment activities, and food had to come after she had the dog. She didn’t know what had possessed her to operate so far out of her usual habits. Caitlyn had seen something in the dog’s sharp gaze, a quiet understanding of burdens carried, and she just knew she could not leave him behind.

His name was Ace. He was disciplined, but wary. His posture was eternally stiff, his ears twitching at every unexpected sound, as though anticipating a command that would never come. Caitlyn, for all her methodical research, had found that socializing a dog with such a past was an undertaking beyond books and theory. It required patience, trust, and a resilience she was still discovering within herself.

The dog park, then, was a battlefield of uncertainty. She had chosen a quiet morning to test the waters, before the rush of owners and their pets, before the noise could overwhelm him – or her. She would be able to keep this consistent, a stop at the dog park slotted neatly into her routine before work. Caitlyn gripped the leather leash her mother had gifted her with an iron determination, murmuring reassurances to Ace as they approached the open space. Her fingers brushed against his sleek black coat, a gesture of comfort. For him, or for herself, she wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

At first, all was calm. The dog park was filled with familiar sounds; barking, laughter, quiet conversations. Ace remained by her side, his sharp eyes tracking every movement of the dogs in the distance but making no attempt to engage. She kept him on his leash, unlike the dogs who were playing further up the hill, but loosened her grip. Caitlyn allowed herself to exhale, feeling, perhaps, that this had been the right decision after all. Ace exhaled with her. 

Then, like a whirlwind, chaos arrived.

A monstrous heap of shaggy fur barreled across the grass, so fast he was mostly a blur. The creature, neither wholly retriever nor shepherd nor any breed Caitlyn could pinpoint, was all fuzz and enthusiasm, his wild pink tongue flapping in the wind.

“Incoming!”

The voice, rich with amusement, barely reached Caitlyn before the beast was upon them. Caitlyn froze, and Ace stiffened, his posture turning back to rigid. She tightened her grip on the leash, stepping instinctively in front of him. The last thing she needed was an altercation. This was already so many new things, outside of her routine and comfort zone. The shaggy dog sniffed curiously at Ace, tail wagging in clear, oblivious delight.

“Call your dog back,” Caitlyn demanded, her voice sharp as a whip.

The woman who approached had messy red hair, shaved on one side, broad shoulders, and the stance of someone who had never taken life too seriously. She sauntered forward at an easy pace, wholly unbothered, and came to a stop a good distance from Caitlyn. “Relax, princess. He just wants to say hi.”

Princess? Caitlyn’s patience thinned to a mere thread. “I don’t care what he wants. My dog isn’t—”

“Oh, I see,” the woman cut in, amusement vanishing beneath something cooler, sharper. “You don’t want your fancy Doberman mingling with a mutt?”

Caitlyn’s mouth parted in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, crossing her arms. “Look, it’s a dog park. They’re meant to play. If you don’t want your prissy show dog roughhousing, why even bring him here?”

The woman’s shaggy dog sniffed at Ace, tail wagging. Ace remained frozen, watching the other dog carefully, ears twitching at the unsolicited intrusion.

Indignation flared. “That’s not what I meant. My dog is—I’m working with him—”

“Right, sure.” The woman’s smirk was infuriating. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, lady.”

She gave a sharp whistle, and her dog responded instantly. His exploratory sniffing of Ace ceased, and he pivoted smoothly, trotting back to her side without hesitation. He sat next to his owner, tongue lolling . Ace remained motionless, his sharp gaze locked onto the woman and her shaggy mutt.

Caitlyn hesitated. Ace was tense, but he wasn’t growling, wasn’t trying to retreat or chase. He was simply observing. Something in her loosened, just slightly.

Still, she wasn’t about to let her control slip away entirely. “We’re done here,” she muttered, clicking her tongue. Ace turned toward her immediately, and she guided him away, casting one last withering glare at the woman and her overly friendly beast.

The woman merely grinned, tilting her head. “See you around, princess.”

Caitlyn had never been more tempted to throw decorum aside and shout an obscenity, but she bit her tongue and kept walking. She was seething, a low, simmering frustration bubbling beneath her skin. Unbelievable.

Ace remained at her side, his stance still alert but, to her surprise, not nearly as distressed as she had feared. He tilted his head slightly, watching the woman and her dog disappear into the distance before huffing out a low breath. If Caitlyn hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was amusement.

She exhaled, running a hand over her face. Well. That could have gone better.

The encounter lingered with her long after she left the park. That woman had been insufferable. Arrogant. Unapologetic. Judgmental. Caitlyn had barely been able to get a word in before being dismissed entirely. And yet…

She could not shake the memory of the way the woman’s dog had listened to her effortlessly, responding to an unspoken trust. Nor could she ignore the easy way the woman had smiled, as though the world was hers to tease and challenge.

Ace pressed against her side, a steady, grounding presence. She glanced down at him, sighing.

“Well, old boy,” she murmured. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn slammed her apartment door shut with more force than necessary, the sharp click of the lock doing nothing to lessen her anger. Ace padded along beside her, silent as ever, his presence a steadying force. She shrugged off her coat, tossing it over a chair before rubbing her hands over her face, trying to quell the heat rising under her skin.

Who the hell did that woman think she was?

She stormed into the kitchen, yanking open a cupboard before realizing she had no idea what she was looking for. Tea? Wine? Something to break? Ace sat beside her, ears flicking at the frustration radiating off her in waves.

“She didn’t even let me explain, ” Caitlyn muttered, pacing across the tile. “Just assumed I was some entitled snob who doesn’t let her prissy dog interact with the commoners. ” She snorted, the memory of that woman’s insufferable smirk only fueling her indignation. “Not every dog is some..unruly beast crashing around like a wrecking ball.”

Ace huffed, resting his head on his paws.

She exhaled sharply, planting her hands on the counter. Why am I letting this get to me? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dealt with judgment before. People made assumptions about her all the time; rich girl, privileged, cold. She usually ignored it. But this? This grated at her nerves in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She settled on wine, pouring herself a glass and taking a slow sip as she leaned against the counter. Her thoughts churned. Maybe she should’ve said more, forced the issue. Made the woman listen. But no, people like her never listened. Cocky. Arrogant. They made their assumptions, wore them like armor, and charged headfirst into every interaction like a battering ram.

Caitlyn took a larger sip from her glass, dreading the dog park tomorrow.

Across the city, Vi slouched on her couch, aggressively petting her dog, while ranting to her sister, who was only half-listening as she flicked through movie options on the TV.

“I’m tellin’ you, Pow, she was insufferable. Just standing there, nose in the air, like I was some kind of street rat who let my dirty mutt run wild,” Vi fumed, throwing a hand in the air. “Like— it’s a dog park! That’s where dogs are supposed to play! What kind of person brings a dog to a dog park and then acts like it’s a goddamn art gallery?”

Powder smirked but didn’t look away from the TV. “Sounds like you made a new friend.”

Vi groaned. “Not funny.”

Her big, scruffy mutt thumped his tail against the couch, utterly unbothered by his owner’s tirade.

“I love Mop,” Vi continued, pointing an accusatory finger as if Caitlyn were in the room to see it. Her dog perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s perfect. I don’t care what purebred princess thinks. I bet her parents paid, like, a million dollars for her stupid, perfect Doberman.”

Powder finally set down the remote, leaning back on the couch with a knowing grin. “You’ve been talking about her for, like, ten minutes straight.”

Vi scoffed. “Yeah, because she was that obnoxious.”

“Right,” Powder drawled. “That’s why you’re still mad.”

Vi scowled. “It is.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you sound kind of…infatuated.”

Vi groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I swear to God, Powder.”

Powder laughed, nudging Mop with her foot. “I bet you’re gonna see her again.”

“Oh, I know I’m gonna see her again,” Vi muttered.

She wasn’t sure if that feeling in her chest was dread or anticipation.

The next day, Caitlyn stepped back into the dog park, shoulders squared, chin lifted. She was determined to try again—to give Ace another chance at this. Yesterday had been a fluke. She wouldn’t let one unpleasant interaction deter her.

Unfortunately, that unpleasant interaction was already here.

The woman from yesterday stood near the fence, arms crossed, talking to another dog owner. Her dog and a beautiful golden retriever were playing in the open grass in front of them, running in circles. They looked content. Caitlyn clenched her jaw, ignoring the spike of irritation in her chest.

Ace had been calmer today, but as soon as they stepped inside, Caitlyn felt tension radiating from across the park. Vi had noticed her. Their eyes met, and Caitlyn felt something shift in the air, like the moment before a thunderstorm.

Vi’s dog, always the friendly one, started toward Ace to include him in the play, but Vi gave a sharp, nearly imperceptible command, and he halted in place, then pranced back to her side. Caitlyn didn’t know why that irked her, but she was bristling nonetheless. As her hand clenched on the leash, Ace tensed up beside her.

She took a breath. This was for Ace. Not for her. Not for whatever this ridiculous…rivalry was.

They moved further into the park, but the weight of Vi’s gaze followed. Ace picked up on it immediately, his body tensing just slightly. Vi’s dog seemed to track them too, his tail swishing from side to side.

Caitlyn forced herself to ignore Vi and focused on Ace, keeping her body relaxed, her voice calm. “It’s okay. You're safe.”

Unfortunately, Vi didn’t seem to be in the mood to ignore her. She separated from the woman she had been talking to, crossing the park to follow Caitlyn, her dog obediently at her side.

“You actually letting your dog interact with the commoners today?” Vi called, tone dripping with mock surprise.

Caitlyn gritted her teeth before turning, offering a cold smile. “Are you going to let me get a word in this time?”

Vi’s smirk widened. “Oh, feisty, rich girl.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, forcing herself to remain composed. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Sure you do. You came back, didn’t you?” Vi crossed her arms over her chest again. Caitlyn didn't look at the way her muscles rippled. “Gotta say, didn’t expect that.”

“I’m here for Ace, not for—” She gestured vaguely at Vi. “Whatever this is.”

Vi chuckled. “Right. I’ve heard it’s great for dogs when you bring them to the park and don’t let them interact with anyone. Real enriching experience for ‘em, I bet.”

Caitlyn inhaled slowly, forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m giving him space to adjust.”

Vi snorted. “Right, 'space.’ That’s what you call gripping on his leash like that?”

Caitlyn opened her mouth, ready to fire back, but Ace moved first. He took a careful step forward, ears flicking toward Vi’s dog, who stepped forward as well, tail wagging wildly. He let out an excited yip before sniffing Ace curiously.

Ace hesitated. Then, after a long pause, he dipped into a playful bow.

Caitlyn exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders as she watched the interaction. Mop barked again, playfully, and Ace’s tail flicked back and forth rapidly.

“Huh,” Vi said, tilting her head. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms. “He’s well-trained.”

“Yeah, yeah. But trained and social aren’t the same thing.” Vi gave her a sideways look. “You, uh… always this fun at parties?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Do you always go out of your way to be insufferable?”

Vi grinned, rocking back on her heels. “Only when it gets a reaction.”

Caitlyn sighed, but before she could come up with a response, Mop barked one last time, and then trotted back over to Vi’s side. He was panting happily, looking between the two women expectantly. Ace, ever composed, merely sat beside Caitlyn, watching the exchange like an impartial observer.

Vi scratched behind Mop’s ears. “Guess we’ll be seeing more of you two, huh?”

Caitlyn hesitated. The idea should have been annoying. Irritating. But instead, she found herself meeting Vi’s gaze and saying, “I suppose so.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t planned, not consciously. But somehow, Caitlyn and Vi always ended up at the dog park at the same time.

Early mornings mostly, when the air was still crisp, the grass dewy, and the city hadn’t quite started its chaotic hum. Caitlyn liked the quiet. She had a routine, and she followed it with military precision: 6:30 a.m. walk, 7:00 a.m. park, 7:30 a.m. home. It was predictable. It was clean. It was easy.

Vi didn’t seem like the type to keep a routine, but there she was. Every time. Usually wearing some ridiculous shirt.

Caitlyn kept her distance, at first. She didn’t have the energy to engage again, especially not this early, when it was supposed to be quiet. She’d offer a tight nod if their paths crossed, and Vi would respond with a smirk or a lazy salute. Not unfriendly, but not exactly warm, either.

Some days, they didn’t interact at all.

But their dogs did.

Ace liked Mop. He more than liked him, he relaxed around him.

It started subtly. A curious glance. Ears perked. A tentative step forward. And Mop, as always, was patient, tail wagging slow and friendly like he knew Ace needed time.

Then, one day, Caitlyn built up the nerve to let Ace off his leash.

Ace did something Caitlyn had never seen before. He played.

From that moment on, they were inseparable. Rolling around, chasing each other through the grass, play-wrestling with surprising gentleness for two large dogs. Caitlyn had never expected to see this progress in Ace, to see him relax, have fun.

Unfortunately, Mop came with Vi.

So Caitlyn adjusted.

She stood closer. She made space. And when Vi approached, she didn’t immediately walk away. The first few exchanges were clipped: "Morning," "Watch your step, it’s slippery," "Mop’s got a leaf stuck to his face." Harmless, mundane things. Absent comments on things they both observed. Slowly, Vi became a part of her routine.

One morning, Vi noticed Caitlyn looked dead on her feet. Her hair slightly out of place, dark circles faint under her eyes, the kind of exhaustion Vi knew wasn’t just physical. It looked like the weight of something unspoken.

Vi had stood there, pretending to scroll through her phone, stealing glances every few seconds. She told herself she wasn’t overthinking it, but she kind of was. She’d even debated texting Powder for a second opinion, then remembered Powder yelling "you like her!" across the apartment the last time she had asked for advice.

So, Vi just moved on instinct. She held out her travel coffee mug as Caitlyn got closer, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt.

"You look like you need it more than I do," Vi said, trying to sound casual, like it wasn’t something she'd debated for the last ten minutes while pretending to scroll through her phone.

Caitlyn eyed her warily, clearly deciding whether accepting coffee from her was some kind of trap. Still, she took it, fingers brushing Vi’s. She sipped. Her brow twitched in subtle distaste.

Vi cursed herself immediately. Of course Caitlyn drank it black. No sugar, no milk, no unnecessary fluff, just like the rest of her. Sharp edges, clean lines. Perfect on her own. And here Vi was handing her the liquid equivalent of a candy bar. Idiot.

"Too sweet?"

"Impossibly."

"Consider it character building."

But Caitlyn didn’t hand the mug back. She kept it, held it in both hands like it had earned its place. Vi tried not to feel too smug about it. Tried, and failed.

Another morning, Caitlyn crouched beside Mop and scratched behind his ear while Ace sniffed around the trees. "He’s calmer when Mop’s here," she said. Vi only nodded, but she was watching Caitlyn more closely than usual.

Their conversations started to last longer. At first, it was light and safe. Leashes, dog food brands, the way Mop had a habit of faking injuries for attention. Then Vi started teasing Caitlyn about Ace’s perfect posture.

"He marches like he's auditioning for a parade," Vi said one morning as Ace dutifully walked at Caitlyn’s side.

Caitlyn smirked. "He could teach Mop a thing or two."

Mop, who was currently rolling around in the muddiest part of the park he could find, perked up at his name.

Vi raised a brow. "Hey, Mop has style. It’s called free expression."

Another day, when it was particularly muddy, Vi gestured to Ace’s spotless legs and said, "Does he just hover over the ground or what? Mop's already wearing half the park."

Caitlyn glanced over to look at Mop, or rather, the ball of mud that Mop was inside, somewhere. "He’s meticulous. Or maybe just knows how to avoid puddles."

"So he’s smarter than Mop too," Vi muttered with mock offense. "Rude."

Caitlyn laughed; quiet, but real.

Bit by bit, things softened. Not just in words, but in the space between them.

And every day, they stood just a little closer.

Vi wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she’d started to look forward to the mornings. Not just for Mop’s sake, but for the way Caitlyn had stopped glaring at her like she was something scraped off her boot. She still held herself like a queen, spine straight, voice precise, but her eyes didn’t look through Vi anymore. They landed. They stayed.

Sometimes, Vi found herself saying something dumb just to get a reaction. Anything to get Caitlyn to roll her eyes, or, if she was lucky, crack a smile. It was like poking at a safe, seeing if she could guess the combination.

There was something weirdly satisfying about getting it right.

And if she set her alarm 20 minutes earlier so she could make sure she got to the dog park first, well, that was nobody’s business but her own.

Then one morning, Caitlyn noticed Vi didn’t let Mop rush up to them anymore. Instead, she gave a small hand signal, and Mop waited until Caitlyn nodded. A courtesy. One that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey,” Vi said, nodding toward the dogs. “Ace looks good. Looser.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Looser?”

Vi shrugged. “Less like he’s waiting for an airstrike.”

Despite herself, Caitlyn huffed a quiet laugh. “He’s... better with Mop. He doesn’t usually play like this.”

Vi grinned, eyes softening a little as she watched the two dogs tumble through the grass. “Mop’s always been good at reading the room. He’s been with me since I was nineteen. Picked him up at a shelter when he was all ribs and fleas. Didn’t even want a dog, but he kinda chose me. Been glued to me ever since.”

Caitlyn glanced sideways. “You trained him well.”

Vi looked at her, almost surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. Was mostly trial and error, but... yeah. He’s a good one.”

Caitlyn nodded, then hesitated. Her fingers curled around the empty leash dangling from her fingers. “Ace... was trained for the military. Tactical work. I got him after he was retired.”

Vi’s face shifted. “Oh.”

There was a pause where they just watched the dogs play in the distance.

“I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat,” Vi said, quieter now. “Back when we first met. I thought you were just another uptight owner who looked down on my mutt.”

Caitlyn gave a small shrug. “You weren’t entirely wrong. I was a little uptight.” She exhaled. “But I was mostly terrified. Ace isn’t an easy dog. He’s brilliant, obedient…but connecting with him? It’s... not simple. I don’t think he knows how to be a pet yet. And I don’t know how to help him.”

Vi looked at her for a long moment. “Sounds like you’re trying, though.”

“I am. But there’s this guilt. Like I owe it to him to be perfect, because he’s already done the hard part. He served. He saw things. And now he’s stuck with me, and I’m still figuring it out.”

Vi let that sit in the air for a second. “You ever think maybe he just needs consistency? Doesn’t have to be perfect. Just steady. You’re here every morning, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn blinked. “I... yes. I guess I am.”

Vi smiled, not smug this time, just warm. “Looks like you’re already doing more than you think.”

The silence between them settled into something less heavy.

They both watched as their dogs chased each other through the trees, tails high, barking happily.

Caitlyn cleared her throat. “Apology accepted, by the way. And... I’m sorry too. For assuming.”

Vi gave a small nod. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

They didn’t shake on it. But when they both reached for the tennis ball Mop had dropped at their feet and their hands brushed, neither pulled away.

Chapter Text

The mornings unfurled in slow, sleepy stretches.

Vi had started arriving a little earlier these days, just because it was nice to get a head start. No other reason. It’s not that there was something about seeing Caitlyn that made the early mornings worth it.

Vi leaned against the fence, sipping coffee out of a battered thermos, watching Caitlyn and Ace find their rhythm. Caitlyn moved with careful purpose, her posture still too stiff to be natural, but Vi could see the edges softening. She didn’t bark commands the way she had when they first met; she spoke low, coaxing, encouraging.

Vi smiled to herself. Uptight princess, maybe. But she was trying—really trying. And there was something about that effort, that stubborn refusal to give up, that made Vi’s chest ache in a way she didn’t care to examine too closely.

It was almost perfect.

Almost. Mist hung low across the dog park, softening the world into something almost dreamlike. The grass was cool and damp beneath their feet, sparkling faintly where the earliest slivers of sunlight touched it. Ace moved in an easy rhythm at Caitlyn’s side, no longer stiff with uncertainty but fluid, almost relaxed. Mop, Vi’s shaggy, grinning mutt, trotted a few paces ahead, a worn tennis ball clamped triumphantly in his jaws.

Caitlyn stood in the middle of the field for a moment longer than usual, savoring the quiet, the simplicity of it all. Routine had become her anchor: Ace’s leash sliding through her fingers, the slow walk down the path, the nod exchanged with Vi who leaned against the fence, her arms folded, a lazy smile playing about her mouth.

They were not friends, not exactly. Not yet. But there was an ease now, stitched together from countless small mercies: a shared coffee, a quiet word, the warm press of hands brushing over dropped tennis balls. Caitlyn allowed herself, cautiously, to hope that something resembling trust was growing between them.

The dogs chased each other across the open grass, Mop flopping into dramatic rolls while Ace, always a little more reserved, circled with an air of regal amusement. Vi would toss a comment out occasionally, her voice light, teasing. “Is he playing or patrolling?” She called, watching Ace stalk Mop with exaggerated precision. Caitlyn, against all odds, smiled.

“I’m not taking criticism from someone whose dog just ate a leaf like it was a treat,” she called back, her voice lifting over the mist.

Vi grinned. “That’s called enrichment, thank you very much.”

Caitlyn’s laughter, low and reluctant, curled in the air between them: the kind of sound that felt startling and private, like something precious accidentally shared.

She thought, fleetingly, that this morning might be perfect.

It shattered in a blink.

A commotion broke the calm. A flash of gold, a bark too sharp: and suddenly a large, unruly retriever launched himself across the field. His gait was wild with enthusiasm, but it lacked any direction or care, his tail a blur, his eyes too bright with overstimulation. His energy, so mismatched to the peaceful rhythm of the morning, seemed to crack something in the stillness.

He did not slow.

Ace didn’t notice until the last second. He turned his head, ears swiveling at the sound of thudding paws, just in time for the retriever to collide into his side. There was no malice, perhaps, but it didn’t matter. The force was real. The snapping teeth, meant in play, too close to his face, were real.

Caitlyn's heart seized.

She saw the change in Ace instantly. The calm vanished. His body went taut, his hackles lifting like a signal flare. With a low, warning growl that vibrated straight into Caitlyn’s chest, he responded the only way he knew how: trained, decisive, and devastatingly fast.

Ace lunged. His teeth bared, a snarl tearing from his throat, not out of cruelty, but pure reflex. There was no calculation in it, just instinct. An echo of a past Caitlyn still didn’t fully understand. A past she had never truly had to reckon with.

And she couldn’t move.

Her body had gone rigid, panic gripping her like a vice. She felt useless, her hands frozen halfway to the leash, her breath caught in her throat. Time slowed, and all she could see was her dog, cornered by chaos, and becoming something she feared.

Caitlyn froze. Every instinct screamed at her to do something, but her body betrayed her, locked in place by fear and helplessness.

It was Vi who moved first.

She stepped forward, her voice cutting clean through the panic, steady and commanding.

“Ace! Come here, boy.”

And Ace, by some miracle, obeyed.

He wrenched his focus away from the retriever, his muscles trembling with pent-up energy, and turned sharply toward Vi’s voice. She knelt low, one hand out, open and sure, and Ace moved to her as if drawn by gravity.

Only when he pressed his nose into Vi’s waiting hand did Caitlyn realize she could breathe again.

Vi kept her movements slow, deliberate. She clipped Ace’s leash back on with practiced ease, murmuring low reassurances, not just for the dog but, Caitlyn suspected, for her as well.

“Come on,” Vi said, voice pitched low and kind. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

Caitlyn stumbled after them, her hands numb, her chest tight. They moved toward a far bench, tucked beneath a canopy of young trees where the noise of the park dulled into a gentle murmur.

Ace pressed against Caitlyn’s leg, his presence grounding but heavy with worry. He flicked his ears back, his eyes searching hers for something she could not yet give.

Caitlyn sat heavily on the bench, burying her hands in Ace’s sleek fur. Vi crouched beside them, not touching, not crowding, simply there.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn rasped. Her voice sounded foreign in her own ears. “I should have… I froze.”

Vi shook her head, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

“Happens to the best of us,” she said. “Especially when it’s someone you care about.”

The words struck Caitlyn harder than she expected. She looked down at Ace, watched as the tension thrumming through him like a coiled spring lessened as she herself relaxed. 

“He’s picking it up from me, isn’t he?” she whispered.

Vi’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “Yeah. They’re sponges. They read us better than we read ourselves sometimes.”

The admission stung, but it was the kind of sting that came with truth.

A long, heavy silence stretched between them. The mist was lifting now, the sun pushing through in earnest, casting long golden beams across the park. Mop wandered over and flopped down with a soft thud, his shaggy body pressing lightly against Vi’s side.

Caitlyn curled her fingers into Ace’s fur, gathering her courage.

“Would you… maybe show me how you got Mop to be so…” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Steady?”

Vi’s face softened. She reached out, slowly, giving Caitlyn every chance to pull away, and placed a hand lightly atop Ace’s broad back. Their fingers brushed.

“Of course,” Vi said. “He already trusts you. You just gotta learn to trust you, too.”

The knot in Caitlyn’s chest loosened, just a fraction.

They sat there for a while longer, saying nothing. Watching as the world brightened around them. As Ace’s breathing slowed. As Mop snored softly against Vi’s knee.

Trust, Caitlyn realized, was not earned through grand declarations or sweeping gestures. It was built here, in these quiet, unremarkable mornings. In the steadiness of a voice calling her dog back to safety. In the warmth of a hand offered without demand.

It was not perfect.

It was real.