I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - A Tayvis Story

Sparks Fly

She continued taking Travis out to the bridge by the river every day. Sometimes she wondered if she needed the peaceful retreat more than he did. Over the course of a few weeks, their sessions got better, and so did Travis's mood. His leg was getting stronger, and Taylor knew that the next step would be surgery, as the swelling had decreased and his knee had regained some range of motion.

One day, the sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the river as Taylor and Travis sat on their usual bench. The therapy sessions had been tough, but Taylor had noticed a small shift in Travis lately—a hint of his old self peeking through the cracks. She decided to seize the moment.

"Travis," Taylor began, her voice gentle but teasing, "I heard a rumor that you're a bit of a dog whisperer. Any truth to that?"

Travis raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Dog whisperer? Who told you that nonsense?"

Taylor grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, you know, I have my sources. So, spill it. What kind of dogs do you have?"

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Travis's mouth. "I've got two. Rambo, who's a Goldendoodle, and Chauncey, a Pomsky."

Taylor's eyes widened in mock horror. "A Pomsky? Are you serious? Aren't they like, the most spoiled dogs on the planet?"

Travis chuckled, the sound surprising even him. "Chauncey? Spoiled? You have no idea. That little furball runs the house. He's got this look—one glance, and you're handing over your dinner."

Taylor laughed, the sound light and infectious. "I can picture it now. So, what does Rambo think of all this? Is he in on the con?"

Travis shook his head, more animated now. "Nah, Rambo's too busy being the responsible big brother. He's the one who tries to clean up after Chauncey's messes. But sometimes, I swear they're in cahoots. Like, Chauncey will cause a distraction, and then Rambo swoops in to steal the snacks."

Taylor doubled over in laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Sounds like a real team effort. I bet they've got you wrapped around their little paws."

Travis nodded, still smiling. "Yeah, well, I'm not ashamed to admit it. They've got me well-trained."

Taylor's grin widened. "I get it. I've got three 'babies' of my own—Meredith, Olivia, and Benjamin."

Travis's interest piqued. "Cats, right? I knew you'd be a cat person."

Taylor leaned back, pretending to be offended. "What's that supposed to mean? Cats are the superior pets, obviously."

Travis smirked. "Sure, if you like living with tiny, judgmental overlords."

Taylor gasped, clutching her chest in mock indignation. "Excuse me! My cats are angels. Except when they're not. Like that one time Meredith decided that 5 a.m. was the perfect time to knock over a vase... while I was sleeping."

Travis laughed again, a genuine, hearty laugh that filled the space between them. "Sounds like she was just keeping you on your toes. Can't have you getting too comfortable."

"Exactly!" Taylor exclaimed, playfully rolling her eyes. "And Olivia? Don't even get me started. She once jumped into the bathtub while I was running the water. I had to blow-dry her for half an hour while she glared at me like it was my fault."

Travis shook his head, amused. "And you're still defending them?"

Taylor shrugged, a playful grin on her face. "What can I say? They're my babies. Plus, they keep me humble. Whenever I start thinking I'm in charge, they remind me who really runs the show."