Chapter 3

Winter's POV

One week.

I stared blankly at the espresso machine, the hissing steam reminding me of Oscar's snoring.

"DAMN IT." I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on work. I couldn't think about her. Absolutely couldn't. That was just an accident—I wasn't supposed to get attached.

"Winter, is that latte ready?" Zoe reminded me from beside the counter.

I looked down and realized I'd forgotten to add milk—there was just a cup of bitter espresso.

"Sorry." I quickly remade it.

This was the fifth mistake today. Yesterday I'd even put salt instead of sugar in a customer's mocha.

"Hey, you okay?" Zoe looked at me with concern. "You've seemed really out of it lately."

"I'm fine." I avoided her eyes. "Just tired."

"Is it about that dog? You said she found her owner, right?"

"I'm not thinking about her." My voice came out sharp. "She wasn't my dog—why would I?"

But I couldn't fool myself. Every time I saw something golden, I thought of Oscar's soft fur. Every time I heard barking, I instinctively turned to look.

Walking home, I deliberately took a longer route to avoid the park. But when I saw a golden Labrador on the sidewalk, I still couldn't help stopping.

It wasn't Oscar. But those brown eyes made my heart ache terribly.

"Do you like dogs, sweetie?" The elderly woman walking it noticed me.

"No." I quickly shook my head and ran away.

When I reached my crappy Venice Beach apartment building, I was exhausted. Twelve hours of work plus the inner torment left me feeling hollowed out.

But when I saw the gleaming Maserati parked downstairs, I froze.

That car stuck out in this rundown neighborhood like a diamond in a trash heap.

Then I saw Dylan Carter leaning against it.

He wore an expensive suit but looked exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, hair somewhat disheveled.

When our eyes met, the air instantly filled with awkwardness. We hadn't exactly parted on friendly terms last time.

"Winter." He straightened up, clearing his throat. "I... I need to talk to you."

I stopped on the steps, keeping my distance. "About what? I thought we settled everything."

Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. "About Oscar."

My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to stay cold. "What about her?"

"Can we... can we go upstairs to talk?" Dylan glanced around. "This place..."

"What's wrong with this place?" I deliberately gave him a hard time. "Too good for you?"

"That's not what I meant." Dylan sighed in frustration. "Fine, we can talk here."

He leaned against his car, looking even more tired. "Oscar's in trouble."

"What?" I asked urgently. "What's wrong with her?"

"She won't eat." Dylan's voice was low. "Since the day she came home, she hasn't touched a single kibble."

My heart clenched. "Maybe she's just adjusting to the new environment..."

"No." Dylan shook his head. "I took her to the vet, full examination. Nothing physically wrong."

He turned to face me, and I saw a vulnerability in his eyes I'd never seen before.

"She howls every night, Winter. All night long, and the sound... it sounds like crying."

I bit my lip, fighting to keep my emotions hidden.

"She attacks other people too." Dylan continued. "The housekeeper, bodyguards, even the vet—she growls at anyone who gets close. But when she sees someone who looks like you, she runs over frantically."

"Dylan..." my voice trembled.

"The vet says it's severe separation anxiety." Dylan stepped closer. "If she continues like this, she might..."

"Might what?"

"Die."

That word exploded in my heart like a bomb. I could no longer stay calm—tears burst out instantly.

"No... that's impossible..." I shook my head. "She just needs time to adjust..."

"Winter." Dylan stepped closer. "She's missing you."

I finally broke down, crouching and covering my face as I started sobbing. All the pain and longing I'd suppressed this past week came pouring out.

"I miss her too," I cried. "Every day, so much I'm going crazy. But she's not mine, I can't..."

Dylan watched me cry quietly for a moment, then said, "I have a proposal."

I looked up, eyes blurry with tears.

"Ten thousand a month." Dylan's voice was serious. "Move to my Malibu house, take care of Oscar exclusively."

I was stunned. "What?"

"You heard right." Dylan pulled an envelope from his suit jacket. "Ten grand a month, plus room and board. Your job is just to keep Oscar company, help her get healthy again."

I stared at the envelope, brain completely scrambled. "Ten thousand dollars? Are you INSANE? I'm just a coffee shop waitress!"

"To Oscar, you're more important than any professional." Dylan's expression was earnest. "She needs you, Winter."

"This... this is ridiculous." I stood up. "What makes me worth that much money?"

"Because you're the only one who can save her." Dylan stepped forward. "You don't want to watch her die, do you?"

That hit me right in the gut. Thinking of Oscar's trusting eyes, imagining her refusing to eat—my heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

But...

"I can't." I stepped back. "Things between us are too complicated. I can't live in your house."

"This is just WORK!" Dylan emphasized desperately. "Pure employment relationship! You take care of Oscar, I pay you—that's IT!"

I chewed my lip, thinking. Ten thousand a month... that was more than I made in a year at the coffee shop. I could pay rent, maybe even pay off Dad's debts.

Seeing my hesitation, Dylan's voice became more pleading. "Winter, PLEASE. Help me. I really can't lose Oscar."

The desperation in his eyes was so real it nearly suffocated me.

"I..." my voice stuck in my throat. "This is just temporary, right? Once she's better, I leave immediately."

Dylan nodded with relief. "Of course! You can leave whenever you want—I won't stop you."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Okay." When I opened them, I saw the light in Dylan's eyes. "I agree."

The next day, Dylan picked me up in a low-key black Mercedes. When he saw all my worldly possessions fit in one beat-up suitcase, something flickered in his expression, but he said nothing.

"Let me help you." He reached for the suitcase.

"Thanks."

The car was quiet. I snuck glances at Dylan—he looked better today, but his fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel.

"Oscar... how is she now?" I couldn't help asking.

Dylan's fingers stopped tapping. "She didn't howl last night. Maybe because I told her you were coming."

"You talk to her?"

"Of course." Dylan glanced at me. "She understands."

My heart warmed a little.

When we reached the Malibu mansion, I was blown away. The modern house perched on a cliff, massive floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Pacific.

"Oh my God..."

"Oscar should hear the car." As soon as Dylan said it, we heard familiar frantic barking.

Then I saw her. Oscar came charging out of the house, running straight at me.

"Oscar!" I crouched with open arms.

She crashed into me, frantically licking my face, tail wagging like it might take flight. I could feel she'd lost a lot of weight, her coat dull.

"God, look how skinny you are." I held her close, heartbroken. "I'm sorry I took so long."

Oscar whimpered, as if saying: You're finally here—you won't leave me again, will you?

Dylan stood watching us, something complex in his expression.

"Looks like she's already better," he said softly.

Oscar glanced at Dylan, then nuzzled back into my arms, like claiming ownership.

"Come on." Dylan picked up my suitcase. "Let me show you your room."

Following him into this mansion, I suddenly realized how dramatically my life had changed.

A week ago I was worried about rent. Now I was moving into a multimillion-dollar house.

It's for Oscar, I reminded myself. Only for Oscar.