Chapter 09, Dog Friends

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The hot shower after a run was everything Sara needed at that moment. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard Grissom arriving home through the front door. The sound of nails clicking against the floor indicated that Hank was excited about his owner's return. The now-familiar sound of kibble hitting the aluminum bowl, the fridge opening and closing, and water pouring into the dish were all occurrences her ears had grown used to.

Even if Grissom was just stepping outside to take out the trash, upon his return, the boxer would always find a way to show just how happy he was to have him back. Sara had no doubt that Hank loved her, but he was undeniably in love with Grissom—the kind of bond that forms when you rescue an abandoned dog from a shelter, Sara mused.

Discovering Hank's presence in Grissom's life had been one of the biggest surprises for Sara when they started dating. A delightful and amusing surprise. Her affection for the dog had been almost instant, and during moments of insecurity about their relationship, she sometimes wondered if Grissom would let Hank stay at her apartment for a few days—even if they were no longer together. The thought of losing both at once momentarily dampened her spirits. Luckily, day by day, Sara firmly believed that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

She was still in her robe when Grissom called her name, and she let him know where she was. Seconds later, after a few knocks on the door, Grissom stepped into the bathroom. She smiled at him as she dried her hair, and he hugged her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"You smell really good," he murmured, kissing her again. She thanked him, turned in his arms, and kissed him on the lips.

"Everything okay?" Sara asked.

"Everything's great, my love," Grissom replied with a smile. "Did you see the letter we got from Hank's sitter? I left it on the kitchen counter."

Sara pulled away from his embrace to apply moisturizer to her face. "I saw she gave you something when you picked him up yesterday, but I didn't read it. What's it about?"

"Apparently, she's planning a trip to a farm with the other dogs and needs our authorization," he said, chuckling.

The situation was indeed funny. And adorable, she had to admit. She had never been on a school field trip—either due to lack of money or her mother's unwillingness to let her go.

"And are you going to authorize it?" Sara asked.

Grissom made a face. "I was thinking… maybe no."

Sara turned to face him instead of talking through the mirror.

"What do you mean, no?"

Grissom shrugged. "Hank's always been an apartment dog, he's had little contact with other dogs, and a farm seems… hard to control."

"He'd get to play, run," Sara argued.

"High chances of getting hurt, being bitten by another dog, getting lost. He can play and run with us."

Sara stared at him, wondering if he was actually serious. Her gaze must have lingered for too long because Grissom finally asked, "What?"

"We can run and play with him, but it'd be fun for him to do it with his dog friends. Besides, I'm sure the place is safe and experienced with this kind of event."

"Dog friends?"

Sara laughed. "Yes! I'm sure they form friendships, like cows do, and it's important to socialize, even if only occasionally. Don't you think?"

Grissom looked her up and down. "I don't know, I only need you."

The statement caught her off guard, but she laughed anyway, even as her heart clenched in a good way. Grissom laughed too—not because he had said it sarcastically or insincerely, but because, despite the truth in his words, he still felt a bit shy about it. After all, even though they had known each other for a long time now, their relationship still had about three months to go before reaching the one-year mark.

"You're sweet, and I appreciate that. But both you and Hank need friends. Other friends," Sara said, walking toward the bedroom. "I think you should let him go. He'd have fun."

Grissom seemed to consider it. "I don't know… I'll think about it."

Sara had an idea. "We can ask for the farm's address and see how far it is. If anything happens, one of us—or both—can go pick him up. I doubt it's far."

That seemed to reassure Grissom, who agreed to ask the sitter when he dropped Hank off the next day. Maybe, by the time of the trip, one or both of them would have the day off in case of any emergency. He really doubted it would be possible, but, hey, one can try. Feeling better, he went to shower while Sara got dressed. When he returned to the bedroom, wearing clean boxers, he lay down beside her.

"Remind me to bring more clean clothes, will you? I'm running low," he said, grabbing a book from the nightstand with one hand while resting the other on Sara's leg as she read.

A few minutes later, Sara placed her book on her lap. Grissom glanced at her, curious. It was common for a passage in a book or article to make them pause abruptly to absorb the information. Usually, they'd discuss it or read it aloud to each other. Grissom assumed this was one of those times and waited.

"About the Neave Case—I just don't get it," she said. "Here we are, talking about Hank's trip, you being worried, us figuring out solutions, while the parents of a six-year-old are giving interviews and calling relatives instead of the police…," she shook her head, clearly baffled.

"At the same time…," Sara continued, "I shouldn't even be that shocked. I don't think my mother would have acted any differently, you know? If something like that had happened to me. Yours, yes. But mine? No." She paused briefly before adding, "I know I can't form a solid opinion without all the evidence on the table, but this screams guilt to me."

A silence settled between them. Even in such a short time, their changes were noticeable. Grissom had become more empathetic, more easygoing, more concerned about the well-being of others—Sara, the dog, even his colleagues. Sara, on the other hand, had become more relaxed, calmer, more at peace, even when discussing serious traumas or problems.

Grissom was sure his change—subtle as it might seem—was a direct result of Sara's influence on his life outside of work. Maybe, months ago, he wouldn't have been so worried about Hank going to a farm, far from the environment he was used to.

He had never pictured Sara in a typical family setting—married, with two kids, eating breakfast at a noisy table, rushing to get them to school before work. But was it possible that a positive relationship, with a beloved dog, was bringing up thoughts of motherhood? And was that why this particular case detail was causing such disbelief in her?

"Do you want to be a mother?" Grissom asked.

The expression Sara gave him was answer enough, and he had to hold back a laugh. But to be clear, she said, "No way. Ever since I realized that could be a possible role in my life, I've never wanted it, and I still don't." She held his gaze, even as he nodded. "Do you want to be a father?" she asked.

"No. I never saw myself raising, feeding, or being responsible for a child. I already have Hank, anyway. We have Hank." He smiled. "But if it did happen—by accident—I don't think I'd freak out. I don't want to be a father, but I wouldn't panic either."

"I would," Sara said simply, making them both laugh. "Why the question?"

Grissom shrugged. "I figured it was something important to ask at some point. But right now, I wondered if Hank was bringing out maternal instincts in you." He studied her in silence for a moment before adding, "But I see that wasn't the case. Your disbelief comes purely from common sense. So far, the case really does make the parents look pretty suspicious."

TBC