How to Save a Life (Howl at the Moon, #4)

by Eli Easton

This was dogs. That was like saying your superpower was being sweet and loving and exuberant. That wasn't a superpower. That was… heaven.

There were times in life when the path before you was so clear, that engaging in planning was little more than verification of what you already knew in your bones. Rav hadn't had this much clarity, this much gut-rightness, since the day he'd walked out of Everson Enterprises for good.

You're my badass little dog whisperer."

Rav didn't expect the dogs—or Sammy—to do things they couldn't do. That was a good way to be—to just allow things to be themselves, no matter how broken. It was so wise. Sammy felt the burn of longing in his throat. He wanted to be that way too—smart and brave and patient and wise. And he would be, Sammy vowed. Someday, he would be just like Rav.

No, Rav began to see Sammy's heart. And it was a little like staring into the sun.

Sammy didn't want to stop, but he leaned in so his lips were inside Best Boy’s ear, and he whispered the name too low for Rav to hear. He whispered it all the way home.

But if dog shifters existed. Why not happy relationships?

They stayed up for hours, giving each other white elephants—the memories they didn't want to hold onto, the things they'd done that they regretted. And they forgave each other for every one.

"Valium."