Maybe this was working. Maybe they were already becoming a family. Still, she noticed things. Little things. How Ranger’s ears twitched every time something outside crackled or snapped. How he repositioned himself between Lily and the back door when David opened it at night. How he slept by the hallway instead of on his bed, as if guarding the bedrooms.
David interpreted it as hypervigilance. Emily wasn’t sure. Sometimes it felt like Ranger wasn’t protecting the house. It felt like he was studying it. One night, after Lily had fallen asleep, Emily walked through the dark living room and found him staring through the sliding glass door into the yard. His reflection hovered beside hers, still and sharp.
“Ranger?” she whispered. He didn’t turn. His breath fogged the glass, slow and measured. His tail didn’t wag. “What is it?” she murmured, stepping closer. Only then did he glance back at her, eyes calm… but with something else beneath it. Something she couldn’t quite name.
Then he walked away. Emily swallowed hard. It was probably nothing. She was probably overthinking. But the next morning, she discovered Ranger lying on the kitchen tile instead of his bed — positioned directly in front of the back door. Like he hadn’t slept at all. She knelt beside him and ran her fingers through his fur.