I volunteered in a local shelter about once a month, sometimes more if I felt like it.

Hunter picked me up that Saturday morning early. I drove us to the shelter.

He was sitting quietly in the passenger seat. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the cigarette between his fingers. It was unlit, but it'd been a while since I last saw him smoke.

"Stressed about something?" I asked, merging the car into the non existent traffic. Saturday mornings were very slow in our small town.

"Why?" He asked.

I nodded my chin to his hand, resting on the window sill.

"Oh." He looked at the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers. "I haven't bought cigarettes for a few weeks now. This is the last one from the last packet I had."

"Want to savor your last cigarette?" I asked.

"No. Trying to see how long I can last without smoking it," he said.

"Challenging yourself. Very commendable," I said, stopping at a red light. Hunter grunted.

The streets were empty as far as the eye could see, but I didn't play around with traffic laws. They were there for a reason.

The weather was gray today. It was growing colder. The trees on either side of the streets wore their auburn fall wigs, shedding most of their colored leaves on the ground.

I glanced at Hunter's attire of black sweatshirt and jeans. A very rookie mistake. I grinned. "You're going to need a lint roller for your clothes after we're done."

He brushed nonexistent dust off his sweatshirt sleeve. "Fur?"

"Yep. Fur. So much fur."

The light turned green and we drove forward. A car drove past us, blaring music first thing in the morning.

"Rude. It's Saturday morning. People are still asleep," I mumbled, glaring in the rearview mirror at the noisy car disappearing down the road.

"We never turn on music," I told Hunter.

"Do you want to?"

I considered it. "No. Not really."

The silence with Hunter was always comfortable. He never felt the need to fill it in with unnecessary chatter. Sometimes, I did. But mostly, our rides were peacefully quiet.

Peaceful. That was a word I never thought I'd associate with Hunter. He made my stomach flutter with how he looked at me sometimes, and his smiles sent my heart into overdrive, but beneath it all, there was a layer of peace whenever I was with him. It was nice.

"How long have you been going to the shelter?" He asked, turning his head to look at me.

"About as long as I've been going to the gym," I said.

"With your dad?"

I nodded.

"You did a lot of things with your father," he said.

"Yep. I was a proper daddy's girl." I smiled. The knot of guilt and grief not nearly as tight as it used to be.

Hunter shifted in his seat. "What about your mom?"

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. "What about her?"

"You don't talk about her much," he said. "At all."

The knot tightened, growing bigger until it pressed against my heart. We rarely spoke about our dad with my brothers. We never spoke about our mom.

"She passed about a year after my dad."

Hunter looked out the window. I felt a warm weight on my thigh. Hunter's big hand looked tan against my jeans. I put my hand on his, steering the car with one hand. The perks of automatic cars.

Hunter turned his palm and our fingers linked, fitting together perfectly, like pieces of one broken soul.

We reached the shelter. I pulled up in the deserted parking lot. There were very few cars this time of the day. I killed the engine and we stayed in by silent agreement.

Hunter's touch anchored me to the present. Thinking about Mom was more difficult than thinking about Dad.

"We never speak about Mom, my brothers and I," I found myself saying. The words came easier than I expected.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe because we resent her a little?" I sighed. "She... killed herself. It was a year or so after dad died.

"She was very close to Dad. They were best friends. More than best friends. Now that I think about it, her dependence on him wasn't exactly normal."

The words tasted like betrayal in my mouth. "She was my mother. I feel like shit talking about her like she's been mentally unstable."

"Was she? Mentally unstable?"

"I don't know. She passed away when I was ten. I didn't have as much memories with her as I had with my dad."

And every memory I had was tainted by the very last image of my mother. An empty bottle of pills. A limp hand. Blue lips. A cold body. I squeezed my eyes shut against the barrage of images.

Hunter's phone rang. He glanced at it then immediately cut the line.

"Shouldn't you get that?"

"It's fine."

"Anyway! We should go in," I said, letting go of the steering wheel. My fingers hurt. I flexed my hands.

I unstrapped my seat belt and hopped out of the car.

He took my hand, quietly, and we walked to the shelter, my heart a little lighter, a little warmer. A memory arose from the cobwebs corners of my mind. Of my mom holding my hand, hers so big and warm around mine, as we walked up to my dad, standing in the front door of our house with a big smile on his face.

I glanced at Hunter. It was difficult to believe that this big, brooding boy banished some of the darkness clinging to my memories of my mother. I smiled and squeezed his hand.

The shelter's name board above the double doors read Pawsome Shelter. The building was two stories, stretching over a big swath of land on the edge of town. With its own parking lot and a massive backyard that the dogs loved, it was considerably sized and could host more than a hundred animals at any given time from what I knew.

A couple got out the doors then, the woman carrying a little ball of golden fur. The two looked in love with the golden retriever puppy. The animal peeked at the world through dark, soulful eyes, ready to start a new life in his forever home.

Hunter's phone rang again. He sighed, pulled it out and cut the line on whoever it was. But I could almost swear I caught something like Mom on the screen before it went dark.

I pushed the door open, immediately hit by the faint smell of dogs under a heavy layer of air spray, a failed attempt to make the place smell less like a shelter and more like a home. Anushka, the shelter's manager, just wouldn't lose hope.

Barks and meows filled the place, the sounds making me smile. The walls of the reception area were covered with murals of cute dogs and cats, painted by one of the shelter's volunteers a few years ago.

Anushka stood behind the counter as we got in, a tall white desk to the left of the doors. She hunched over to look at the screen of the receptionist's computer, skin a light shade of brown, her eyes big and dark and framed with lush eyelashes. She glanced up and did a double take, beaming when she saw it was me.

"Sapphire!" She said, walking around the desk and hugging me to her. "I didn't know you were scheduled to come in today."

The gray hairs on her temple stood out against the deep black of her silky hair. She looked at Hunter, glanced at our linked hands, and her eyes crinkled in the corners. "And this is...?"

"Hunter," I said. "I dragged him along to help. He can put his big muscles to use and help us clean those kennels."

I grinned at Hunter. His only response was a raised brow and hint of amusement in his eyes.

Anushka laughed. "Definitely could use those muscles. Let me wrap up some paperwork and I'll show you-"

"Don't worry," I waved her off. "I know my way around. Is anyone else in?"

"Chester is here, actually," she said. "He's giving Sally a hand with the kennels in the back."

"Okay. I'll see you around!"

Hunter and I made our way through the hallway. On either side of it, doors led to rooms where people could meet pets and have some alone time to see if they fit. Then the hallway ended in double glass doors, which opened to a wide area. It branched off several hallways. I waved to a couple of staff, who were busy showing a family of three some kittens. We headed to the far back, where some big dog kennels were located.

Chester was cleaning up a cage. His curly brown hair fell over his eyes as he bent down to pick up a brush. His blue shirt was three sizes too big on his lanky frame.

On either side of us, only a few dogs were in the big cages.

"Chester!" I called out.

He looked over, his light brown eyes losing the guarded glint in them. He gave me one of his shy smiles, before it froze when his gaze settled on Hunter.

I glanced at Hunter. He was his usual stony, brooding self. I squeezed his hand, and his expression softened a little as he looked at me.

"Hunter, this is Chester. He's been volunteering here almost as long as me," I said once we stood next to Chester. He stood a few inches shorter than Hunter.

"Hey," Hunter rumbled. Chester only nodded. Then nothing.

Well, what did I expect, introducing two stoic boys?

"So, anything we can do to help?" I asked.

Chester shrugged. "I'm taking care of the empty cages here, if you want to help."

"We'll do that."

I brought Hunter along to pull another hose, then we got to work. Every cage had a drain, which made cleaning easier and less messy.

We worked in silence, which wasn't odd for either boy. Hunter's phone kept ringing. At one point he put it on vibrate. I wonder if something was wrong at home?

At around noon, my arms were sore from scrubbing, and the cages were sparkling clean. We went out to the backyard garden. A big, fenced-in space with a couple of trees, grass and a bunch of puppies being socialized by a shelter staff. I sat between Chester and Hunter on the bench underneath a tree. The sun had broken through the cover of gray, and the cold coke tasted even better because of it.

"So, Chester? How's school going?" I asked.

"Good, I guess," he said. "It just won't end."

I chuckled. I missed his dry sense of humor. "Don't worry. Too soon you'll be in senior year and it'll all be over."

"Lucky you," he said. "You're still going to vet school?"

"Yep. That's the plan. You, too. Right?"

He nodded. "Olivia dropped by the other day."

"Oh, I haven't seen her in so long," I said. Olivia was one of the shelter volunteers. She went away for college a few years ago, but whenever she visited home, she dropped by the shelter.

"She says vet school sucks," Chester said.

I chuckled. "Olivia says everything sucks."

Chester cracked a little grin. "True. She told me I could visit her in school some day. Want to come?"

"Oooh, that'd be interesting," I said. "Let me know if you're going."

"How's Cheddar? Did he start shedding yet?" Chester asked.

"Don't remind me." I made a face.

"It's pretty bad this time of the year."

I nudged his arm. "Hey, at least your cat is black, so you can just wear black clothes. Mine is orange. It stands out on everything."

Hunter's phone vibrated. I looked over to find an irritated expression on his face. This time I did catch the name on the screen, and it was indeed Mom.

"Shouldn't you get that?" I asked in a low voice.

He shook his head and stood up. "Where's the restroom?"

I pointed it out to him. He walked away, and I stared at his back, concerned. There was something wrong. I sighed when he disappeared from view.

"Are you two dating?" Chester asked.

"Hunter and I? Yeah."

"Hmm." He shifted in his seat, his shoulders hunched over. "I didn't know. Since when?"

"I don't know, I think it's been a few weeks," I said.

"I didn't think he was your usual type."

I chuckled, taking another sip of my coke. I didn't let go of it. I had bad memories from my time in the party. Chester wasn't one to do things like that. But I just couldn't trust anyone, at this point. "And what's my type?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Not Jamison."

"So you do know him?"

"Everyone does. They're stinking rich, and he's not exactly a good guy."

I sighed. "He's a good guy. I don't know what he did in the past, and I don't care. He's a good guy."

Chester glanced at me, then slowly nodded. "So, what's the plan after high school? He's going to the same college or...?"

I blinked. I hadn't actually thought about it, as silly as that made me seem. "I... don't know, actually. We've never talk about it."

Chester gave me a look. "So you're not serious?"

"No, it's not that." I looked down at my coke.

Were we serious? We were. At least, I was. It was true that Hunter had asked me out, and I'd agreed to go out with him just to see how it would be. And so far it had been... nice. More than nice. I loved spending time with him. I missed him on the weekends. I loved everything about him, from his grumpy good mornings, the way he gave me his pickles because he knew I loved them. I loved the way his eyes smiled whenever I said something silly, and I loved his rare laughs-

And I was using the word love quite a lot, wasn't I?

My heart stuttered. Did I actually... love him? What did that feel like, anyway? I had no frame of reference. But if love was the way my heart squeezed pleasantly whenever he smiled, or the way warmth unfurled in my belly whenever we kissed, or the way my chest felt awfully empty on the weekends when I missed him, only to become full and brimming when I finally saw him, or the way I now loved Monday mornings because I got to see him after a long weekend.

Was that love? I didn't know.

What I did know was that I cared about him. I cared about him a lot.

Chester glanced over our shoulders and did a double take. Before I could turn, Hunter sat down next to me, his face shut down.

Had he heard? What was the last thing we said? My mind was too churning with thoughts to remember right then.

Hunter's phone vibrated again. He pulled it out and cut the line.

Mom again.

"Shouldn't you get that?" I asked. "It could be important."

"It's not," he snapped, harsher than usual. I blinked.

Hunter scowled and stood up. "I have to go."

"Where-"

He was already walking away. I gave Chester an apologetic smile. "Just a second."

Hunter's long legs swallowed the distance between us and the shelter's parking lot. I jogged up, barely catching up to him in the parking lot.

"Hunter!" I said. He stopped, his back to me, right in front of his car. His shoulders were tense. He turned, tucking his hands in his pockets, making his big shoulders hunch even more. His face was closed off.

"What's wrong? Is your mom okay?"

His eyebrows twitched, as if he wanted to frown. "Why would you think Mom isn't?"

"I saw her name on your phone. Is she fine? I'm just worried something's wrong at home-"

"Nothing is wrong," he snapped, and his shoulders grew even more tense if possible. "Not everyone has your perfect family."

I took a step back. "What's that supposed to mean? I was just asking about your mom."

He closed his eyes shut tightly, roughly rubbing the back of his neck. When he opened his eyes, he looked a little less angry, a little more remorseful. Or was it just my wishful thinking?

He opened his mouth, glanced over my shoulder and snapped it shut. I waited. Nothing.

Disappointment was a heavy bolder on my heart. I fished his car keys from my pocket and threw them at him. They hit him smack in the middle of his chest and fell to the ground.

I turned and walked back inside the shelter. Chester was there at the doors, shifting on his feet. I heard Hunter's car roar to life and speed out of the parking lot. Asshole.

"Are you okay?" Chester asked, shifting on his feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go finish off," I said. I didn't even know what just happened? What was wrong with him?

Chester cast me a worried look. But he followed me without asking questions, bless him.

I couldn't make sense of what happened, what I was feeling, what in the world was wrong with Hunter. It had to do with his family. He never talked about them. Well, I never talked about my parents, either. But mine were dead, and Hunter's parents were very much alive. That much I knew.

It was the first time Hunter lost his temper that way. He wasn't even angry. He just looked... wary, guarded, on edge. Like a cornered, injured animal who expected everyone to attack him.

It hurt my heart, to see him that way. But I was angry, as well. He didn't get to snap at me that way just because he was going through things.

Stupid boys. 

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M.B.