Page 11 of Marcelo
He grins, his wrinkles deepening. “And sometimes, the ones with four legs teach us the best lessons about ourselves.”
The day wears on, and as the golden afternoon begins to fade into a soft twilight, the shelter's once-hectic ambiance shifts to a tranquil hush. With most animals either returned to their owners or taken to foster homes, the noise level has significantly decreased. As I busy myself with tidying up, I realize that the shelter’s dwindling crowd means one particular furry face hasn't been claimed.
I search for the familiar, wagging tail and bright eyes of the stray I'd grown so fond of, a pang of sadness gripping me when I can't find him anywhere.
As I gather my things to leave, my work here done, I hear a door open behind me. I turn, and the dimming light casts a soft glow upon a figure at the entrance, drawing my gaze instantly. It's Marcelo, and he's never looked better. The setting sun drapes his tall, broad-shouldered frame in a muted golden hue, accentuating the well-defined muscles beneath his fitted shirt. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it. His striking, intense eyes, always full of purpose, now hold a mix of hope and vulnerability. The contours of his face are chiseled, a shadow of stubble lending him a rugged charm.
The very dog I'd been looking for is by his side, a brand-new leash attached to his collar. Beside him is a bag of dog food. And there it is, that familiar, confident stance juxtaposed with a sheepish yet hopeful grin on his face, making him irresistibly alluring.
"Looking for this guy?" Marcelo asks, nodding toward the dog.
A mix of relief and surprise floods me. "Marcelo? What... how did you…?"
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I noticed you two had a bond, and when I found out he wasn’t claimed, well... I thought maybe he'd be a good fit for us." He hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I named him Chance, after the dog you told me about, the one you couldn't keep. And also because," he looks at me earnestly, "I was hoping you'd give me a second chance."
I'm momentarily speechless, emotions swirling inside me. Marcelo's gesture is bold and sincere, showing me a side of him I hadn't seen before—a willingness to bend, adapt, and put someone else’s needs before his own.
"You're adopting him?" My voice comes out as a whisper.
He nods, glancing down at the dog, who's now contentedly sitting at his feet. "Yeah. I want to prove that I can change, that I can be flexible. But, I'm going to need some help," he admits, looking up at me with vulnerability in his eyes.
The significance of the gesture isn't lost on me. It's a clear commitment, not just to the dog, but to me—to us.
I take a moment, hesitating. My heart races, echoing the whirlwind of emotions inside. His words, while genuine and filled with hope, are weighed against the protective barriers I've meticulously built over the years. Before the doubts can completely cloud my judgment, I look into his eyes, searching for sincerity.
"You know," I say slowly, "if you're willing to meet me halfway, maybe we can make this work. Both with Chance," I bend down to ruffle the dog's ears, "and with us."
Marcelo's smile widens, relief evident in his features. "Sounds like a plan. Starting with a fresh chance."
I blink back tears, chuckling softly. "You've got a knack for grand gestures, don't you?" Taking a deep breath, I admit, "I've been guarding my heart, Marcelo. Afraid to be seen as fleeting or not serious enough. But with you, I've felt this depth of emotion I didn't think was possible in such a short amount of time.”
His fingers gently tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "I felt it too. When I left last night, I kept replaying our time together. I didn't like how it ended, how I felt being away from you. It's been a wake-up call."
A vulnerability and authenticity hangs in the air between us, creating an almost palpable connection. Drawn to him, I close the distance, our bodies coming together in a warm, heartfelt embrace. As I bury my face into the crook of his neck, I feel his steady heartbeat against my own, and in that moment, all the uncertainties fade.
"Okay, so what now?" I ask.
"Well, we've got a dog to take care of, for starters. And then, well, we’ll figure it out."
“No carefully thought out plan?”
Marcelo shrugs, his lips quirking up. “I don’t need one to know that I want to be with you.”
I nod, a smirk forming on my lips. "Sounds like a plan." And with that affirmation, a solid understanding forms, grounded in the promise of navigating whatever comes next, together.
Chapter 8
Marcelo
The ride to my place is filled with anticipatory energy, punctuated by Chance’s excited pants and occasional barks from the back seat. When we pull into the driveway of my simple but cozy home, the setting sun casts a warm, golden hue across the yard. Winnie shoots me a quizzical look.
"Really wasn’t expecting such a quaint place from a guy like you," she jests.
“Hey,” I grin, nudging her gently, “even EmergenSEA heroes need a quiet space.”
I open the door for her, and she steps out, eyes scanning the surroundings. “It’s peaceful. I like it.”
Unlocking the front door, we let Chance barrel in ahead of us. I watch, amused, as he sprints around, exploring every corner and nook. It’s not long before he seems to approve of the cozy living room, plopping down on the couch and letting out a long, contented sigh as he drifts to sleep.