Staying Grounded [BXB]

Problem Shared

CRAIG:

"I cannot believe we're legitimately searching for his dog this time," I say, my heart pounding as I watch Sebastian tear across the farmyard. His calls for Dobby are booming and urgent.

Hooking my elbow, Ashleigh tugs me away from the house toward the shed. "This is serious, Craig!"

"I know!" Of course, I know. I can't shake the image of his slack face when the realisation hit him, the colour draining from his skin. And it's my fault. And I'm feeling awful. And my feet are straight-up refusing to do what I need them to, tripping me every other step. "But he's got to be somewhere close by, right? He never runs too far away."

Sebastian's shouts continue to reach us loud and clear as we pull up at the rickety shack, and Ashleigh's pained expression lances fresh panic through my gut. "You don't get it." Her head shakes. "This is Bastian's worst nightmare."

The shed doors are padlocked shut, so there's no chance Dobby could be inside. I turn left, tracking through thick weeds, and Ashleigh takes the right side. We meet up again around the back two minutes later, stopping on either side of a large and boggy puddle.

"You remember how shocked I was that this is the scenario he fed your parents as an excuse, yeah?" She asks me.

"Yeah," I nod. "You laughed and said it was curious..." Very, very curious indeed, she'd teased. 

"But—"

"Dobby's only real attachment is to Bas, okay? No one else matters much to him. And when he's with Bas, he's the best-behaved dog you're ever likely to meet."

"I've noticed. But—"

"But," I'm interrupted again, "whenever Bas goes somewhere without him, we can't let him out of the house because if he gets out, he bolts."

"But Bas is here now, so the dog'll surely make his own way home at some point, too, right?" It's myself I'm trying to reassure as much as anything else.

"He's not a tracker dog, Craig!" She's sharp in shooting me down. "The last time he disappeared, it took us three days to find him, and I don't ever want to deal with Bastian in that state again." Whirling on her heel, she starts back around the shed's side.

I do the same, and when we rejoin at the front, it's to see Sebastian approaching us at a sprint. "Okay. Okay, where was he found last time?"

Ashleigh's already started forward away from me. "Brianna's place, hiding out in an empty stall."

"Well, that's not too far. Seems like a good place to—"

"Can you check the rest of the farm, Ash, please?" Sebastian yells. "I'm going to take the truck out to search." I've witnessed him angry many times, sad and sullen, too, but never frantic. He doesn't look at me. "Be thorough. The woods, as well." And as Ashleigh nods, breaking away at a jog, he swerves in the direction of the driveway with barely a hitch to his pace.

Discounted and ditched, I allow my frustration only the moment it takes to slam my fist into the shed wall with a vicious curse before I give chase, launching after Sebastian to where Roxy awaits me.

The damn dog will not be missing for three days, not this time. I can't bear the weight of it on my conscience for that long. There are only so many places Dobby's stubby legs could have taken him in the half-hour he's been gone, and I will hunt him down.

The truck is already moving, its engine roaring, by the time I reach my car. Salvaging my phone from the glove box, I check its charge and turn on the ringtone, dumping it onto the passenger seat. Sebastian turns right on the road, and within a few seconds of him disappearing, I'm driving out then left toward Strathall Stables.

I don't hold out much hope of it being so easy, and what little I did diminishes the instant I pull into the car park to the sight of Brianna's sister scoping around and under the few vehicles occupying the space.

"Sebastian's already called," Georgie tells me with inappropriate pep as I draw Roxy in alongside her, my window down. "Bree's searching out the back. If the little scamp's here again, we'll find him."

Because, of course.

Of course, he has this place covered!

I quash the pang that Brianna got the call for help from him I didn't. "Is there anywhere else you can suggest worth a look?"

She grimaces and shrugs. "Literally everywhere," her response is unhelpful. "But I do know that Sebastian's headed for town."

"Great. Thanks." Slamming into reverse, I hit the road again.

And the unmarked spot where Sebastian and I kissed vanishes behind me a moment later.

If only I'd paid closer attention to the many clues that I'm oh-so-clearly registering now. How often have I noticed Judy catching hold of Dobby's collar or blocking him from the door? How many times has Sebastian left me with a warning to keep him inside whenever a need arises to run an errand or make a trip into town? I'm fully aware of that mutt's importance, and yet, I didn't spare a second thought for him before racing from the kitchen while Theresa posed such a risk at the back door.

The very last words Sebastian spoke to me before storming out into the farmyard were, "You just don't think," and he's right.

It's not until I pass by the Yoverton exit sign that I realise I'm headed out toward the pit. My gaze is darting every which way along the narrow and winding roadside, but there's been nothing to give me pause. The sun is still a couple of hours from setting, meaning the pit regulars are at least an equal while away from their meet. Even so, a fair few cars skim by me on the hazardous trail through moorland.

Honestly, I don't understand what possessed me to come this way. What possible chance do I stand of finding Dobby out here? My phone remains utterly silent on the seat beside me. I'm now approximately twelve miles from the farm and two from the next turning point. And had I been thinking, I might have considered the significant likelihood his dash would be to someplace that is in some way familiar to him — not to me.

An oncoming Land Rover with two bikes harnessed to its roof and a trailer hitched behind has me manoeuvring Roxy into the verge. I give myself a solid minute once it's passed, and as I look out across the isolated landscape, I feel nothing of the comfort I've always been granted before.Instead, the solitude and disconnection make for an altogether motivating reminder of who I no longer need to be.

Snatching up my phone, I press call on the last dialled number. This time, Alex picks up on the second ring.

"Hey," he says. "Mum's asking if you're going to be back for din—?"

"Al, could you please rally me some troops?"

"—What?"

"As many as you can muster. I need help."

My odds of rooting out the runaway single-handedly might be unfavourable, I'll admit, and I know that nobody's banking on me. What I can do, however, is my absolute best for his chances of getting home safe.