Ocean Kisses

Miscommunication

Doc pov

The dog, a wiry little thing with more energy than it knew what to do with, suddenly froze mid-step. Its ears flattened slightly, and for a split second, I swear I caught a pair of golden eyes watching us from the edge of the forest. The glow was faint, a fleeting glimpse, but my heart leapt with recognition.

I stopped walking, narrowing my gaze into the shadows of the underbrush. “Ren?” I called out softly. He didn’t move—at least, not at first. But I knew him well enough to spot the tension in the shadows, even if he was trying his best to blend in. The dog noticed, too. It took a step forward, ears perking, and then started growling softly, unsure of what it had sensed. A second later, Ren shifted just enough to bolt, a blur of movement through the trees.

“Ren, wait!” I called, louder this time, my voice cracking slightly from the urgency. But he was fast, faster than I remembered, and it was like he melted back into the forest. For a second, I felt like I’d imagined him entirely. But the dog was having none of it. It barked sharply, jerking on its leash, and my son looked up at me, his wide eyes full of curiosity.

“Dad, was that him? Was that Ren?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “I think so, buddy. Let’s find him.”

The dog wasted no time, its instincts kicking in as it sniffed around furiously. It darted forward with purpose, tail straight and nose to the ground. It wasn’t long before it stopped dead, pointing toward the thick trees just beyond the clearing.

“Good boy,” I muttered, picking up my pace and dragging my son along gently. I knew Ren well enough to know he was still there. He was probably sulking, pouting in that way only he could pull off—like a grumpy predator who didn’t want to admit he cared. I could almost picture him now: sitting half-hidden in the brush, ears perked, trying to look annoyed while refusing to actually leave.

We followed the dog deeper into the woods, and sure enough, I spotted him. He was perched halfway up the slope of a moss-covered boulder, just out of reach. His golden eyes locked on me, glowing faintly with irritation as if to say, What are you doing here? I almost laughed because, despite how hurt or distant he might have felt, he looked exactly like the stubborn wolf I’d come to know.

“You’re pouting,” I said simply, resting my hands on my hips and trying to catch my breath.

He flicked an ear at me but didn’t move. The dog barked again, pacing at the bottom of the boulder, clearly frustrated it couldn’t climb up after him.

“Ren, come on,” I tried again, my voice softer this time. “You’re not in trouble. Just… come down here and talk to me, will you?”

He didn’t budge, though his eyes flicked briefly to my son before he dropped his head back down onto his paws, feigning complete disinterest. His ears twitched in irritation, but he didn’t move an inch—typical Ren, acting like he couldn’t care less.

The thing was, he’d miscalculated. He was just within my arms’ reach, and I wasn’t about to let him get away again. I didn’t think twice before leaning in and scooping him up quickly, wrapping my arms around his middle.

“Gotcha!” I said triumphantly.

Ren let out an undignified yelp of surprise, squirming for a second as his golden eyes widened in complete shock. “Hey—Doc! What the hell?!” His voice was muffled as I pulled him against my chest, though he wasn’t really fighting.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. “What, did you think I’d let you run off again?” I teased, holding him securely as he glared up at me.

“Put me down,” he huffed, but his tone lacked any real anger. His tail flicked in annoyance, but his body was warm, and there was no fight in him now that I had him close.