“Ranger?” she whispered. He didn’t turn. His breath fogged the glass, slow and measured. His tail didn’t wag. “What is it?” she murmured, stepping closer. Only then did he glance back at her, eyes calm… but with something else beneath it. Something she couldn’t quite name.
Then he walked away. Emily swallowed hard. It was probably nothing. She was probably overthinking. But the next morning, she discovered Ranger lying on the kitchen tile instead of his bed — positioned directly in front of the back door. Like he hadn’t slept at all. She knelt beside him and ran her fingers through his fur.