big brown eyes
synopsis: paige figured sheâd fall for a set of big brown eyes when she walked into the dallas spca. she just didnât expect them to belong to the volunteer behind the counter. suddenly, she comes to the unsettling realization that adopting a puppy might not be the biggest commitment sheâs about to make.
tags: wnba!paige x spca!azzi, fluff, down bad paige, sad attempts at flirting, happy ending, cute fluffy dogs
cw: very brief mentions of animal abuse
total wc: 8k+
The Dallas heat is stifling as Paige crosses the parking lot, phone to her ear, the sun bright enough to make her squint because sheâs pretty sure she left her sunglasses at the training facility. Again. Her gray practice tee clings to her back, shorts hanging loosely above her knees, which are still red from having ice bags strapped to them during the drive.Â
âI promise I thought this through, mom,â she whines, stepping off the curb and adjusting the assortment of bracelets dangling from her wrist. âI wouldnât just⊠do this.â
She listens, jaw tightening slightly.Â
âYes. I know itâs a commitment.â A pause. âYeah, I have all that lined up. I am an actual adult. Like⊠you know that right?â
A car door slams somewhere nearby and she glances up automatically, the familiar rush of anxiety of constantly being noticed bubbling up. But the couple that piles out of their car pay her no mind, so she keeps walking toward the building ahead. The sign is visible now, big blue letters mounted above the glass doors that fill her with excitement.
âStop trying to talk me out of this,â she groans, softer but more pointed.Â
Paige exhales through her nose, pushing a hand back through her hair where itâs still damp at the edges, not sure if itâs lingering from the grueling practice or from being out in the hot sun.
âIâve looked at my schedule. Iâve talked to the trainers. I know when we travel.â She hesitates, listening. âBro, Iâm not making a rash decision because Iâm lonely. Are you for real right now?âÂ
She slows as she reaches the sidewalk and glances up at the building again, at the streaked glass doors and the big logo on the window.
âOkay, mom. Iâm here. Iâll call you later.â
She ends the call before the response comes through and lowers the phone. Staring at the dark screen for a second, she rolls her eyes. Of course DiJonai had decided that Paigeâs very mature and well-thought-out decision to get a dog required a full risk assessment and unsolicited group discussion.
Paige slips the phone into her pocket and lets out a quiet breath, a mix of irritation and nerves. She loves DiJonai. She really does. But sometimes her friend forgets that Paige is capable of making decisions like an adult. And okay, maybe that has something to do with the fact that her fridge is never full of actual food, her snack drawer consists of potato chips and slim jims, and she insists her national championship net is actual decor, but thatâs really beside the point. Paige has a lot of love in her heart and she wants to share it with someone. Preferably someone with a soft coat, and four legs; that wonât get mad if she doesnât text back.
She reaches for the handle and stops, fingers curling around the metal.
Dallas Humane Society.
The letters stretch across the top of the building in thick blue letters, contrasting against the washed-out brick building. For a second, she just stands there, heat pressing at her back, heart beating a little faster than it should for something like this.
Then she tightens her grip, pulls the door open, and steps inside.
The first thing Paige expects when she walks into the Dallas Humane Society is dogs. Or at least animals, like a whole variety pack of them. Arike had told her once, very casually, that she adopted a ferret from here. Paige hadnât asked follow-up questions at the time because the mental image of Arike living with a ferret was already too much. Although, Franklin is pretty cute.Â
So okay, dogs, but also cats and birds and rodents. Maybe even some fish if thatâs a thing people rescue?Â
And, to be fair, when she steps inside there are animals. Thereâs noise, and barking that ricochets off the dirty tiles, and a woman holding a leash while a dog drags her like itâs late for a very important meeting while another person pets the most massive white bunny Paige has ever seen.Â
But that isnât what Paige notices.
Nope.
What Paige notices is the woman behind the counter.
Sheâs standing there with her elbows braced on the surface, looking down at something sheâs writing like the chaos in the background doesnât exist. Her black hair is half braided tight along her scalp, neat rows that look like they took patience, and the rest is pulled into a bun that sits high and a little messy, like she ran out of said patience or decided she had better things to do. Her face is stunning and it makes Paigeâs brain go quiet because it needs to stop all other thoughts to make room for the fact that this might be the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in real life.
She stops walking entirely, right inside the doorway. Then the woman looks up and Paigeâs stomach drops when those big brown eyes lock on hers.Â
And honestly, Paige's brain forgets how to work for a second. Which is embarrassing. She has played in packed arenas, in front of hostile crowds, with cameras pointed at her face while trying not to vomit from adrenaline. She has stared down defenders who wanted to prove a point and smiled through interviews that were designed to get a rise out of her. And yet, she can barely walk up to a counter without losing her ability to form a coherent sentence.Â
The womanâs mouth curves slightly, and oh my God, she has the cutest dimples and bunny teeth. While Paige is trying to remember how words work, the woman steps out from behind the counter and meets Paige halfway.
âHi, Iâm Azzi,â she says, voice light and soft, and absolutely fucking not what Paige expected. âHow can I help you?â
Paige watches her approach and realizes, with a jolt of panic, that she is going to have to respond to this woman. Out loud. With words. Like the adult she just promised DiJonai she is.
âDog,â she manages.
It comes out too blunt, and Paige wonders where her rizz has vanished to, because there is certainly no trace of it in her body right now.Â
The womanâs brows lift, maybe slightly amused, but still attentive. âOkay,â she says, drawing the word out a touch. âWhat kind of dog?â
Paige opens her mouth. She has a list in her head. She did research, watched videos, and made notes. She talked to trainers and absolutely has opinions on energy levels and temperament and the merits of different breeds.
None of that survives the direct hit of those eyes.
âBeautiful brown eyes,â Paige stutters.
Thereâs a fraction of a second where the woman just stares at her, like sheâs making sure she heard correctly. Paige doesnât even try to backpedal. She canât. Her brain is still stuck on the part where she accidentally said the quiet thing out loud and she could try to salvage it but that would probably make it worse. If thatâs even possible. Sheâs not entirely sure.Â
Then Azziâs mouth twitches, the smallest hint of a smile, and she tips her head like sheâs studying Paige.Â
âRight,â she says. âWell⊠thatâs⊠really helpful information.â
Paige presses her lips together, because the alternative is admitting sheâs completely aware she sounds insane. And Paige is going to live in the delusional world sheâs created where this interaction is still salvageable.Â
The woman reaches behind her, grabs a clipboard off the counter, and flips to a form. Her tone stays friendly, but it shifts into something more official.
âLetâs get some details on you,â she says, pen poised. âJust so I can make sure youâre fit to own a dog before I let you back.â
Paigeâs heart skips a beat. âBefore you let me back?â
âYeah,â Azzi replies. âInto the adoption area. We donât just let anyone wander around back there. Youâve got to get approved.â
Paigeâs mouth opens, then closes. She wants to argue on principle, mostly because sheâs used to being allowed places, which is a gross thought but also completely true. Instead she just studies the clipboard wondering why the universe saw fit to have her vetted by the prettiest person sheâs ever seen.
Azzi taps the top of the paper with the pen. âOkay,â she says. âWhatâs your name?â
Paigeâs eyes narrow before she can stop herself. She doesnât mean to make it a thing. It just happens; itâs almost automatic at this point. Itâs the same look she gives a ref when they call something questionable. Sheâs never really been great at controlling her facial expressions.
Azzi looks back at her, unbothered, expectant.
Paige lets another second pass, then says, âYou donât know who I am?â
Azziâs brow lifts. âShould I?â
Itâs not rude or necessarily sarcastic, but she looks at Paige like sheâs just a random stranger who walked in off the street. Like thereâs not an entire billboard with Paigeâs face on it a few blocks away.Â
Paigeâs confidence, which usually never takes a day off, pauses to regroup. For a second she almost laughs, because this is somehow the most disorienting thing thatâs happened to her all week.
âNo,â she says, forcing herself back into motion. âNo. Sorry.â She clears her throat. âUh, itâs Paige. Paige Bueckers.â
She thinks that might get a beat of recognition from her interrogator, but Azzi writes it down without hesitation, like itâs the same as if Paige had said her name was Emily from accounting.
âOkay, Paige,â she says, sliding her pen down the form. âAddress?â
Paige gives it.Â
âDo you rent or own?â
âRent. For now.â
âDo you have any other pets?â
âNo.â
âAnyone living with you?â
Paige hesitates. âNot permanently.â
The womanâs eyes flick up, curiosity flicking through them. âMeaning?â
Paige can feel herself starting to smile, because apparently she has no self-control in front of this woman. âMeaning I have teammates who think my apartment is their second home.â
That earns her a look that Paige could interpret as skepticism. But Azzi doesnât comment on it, just keeps writing.
âYard?â she asks.
âNo.â
âOkay. Whatâs your schedule like?â
Paige hears the trap hidden inside the question and tries not to tense. âBusy,â she admits. âBut manageable.â
âMhm,â Azzi hums, still writing. âAnd what do you do for work?â
âI play professional basketball for the Dallas Wings.â
The pen finally stops.
Azzi sets the clipboard down on the counter with a calmness that feels a little too deliberate, then looks fully at Paige. Her stomach drops. She watches Azziâs face carefully, waiting for the normal reaction. The recognition, the excitement, the comment about a game she caught, the question about her stats. Or, thereâs the âmy cousin loves you,â or a request for an autograph.
Instead, Azziâs eyebrows knit together and she says, âDoesnât that involve a lot of traveling?â
Paige stares at her, thrown for a beat. âYes,â she says, careful. âIt does.â
âAnd you want a dog.â
Itâs not really a question, but it still lands like one. Paige feels judged so fast she almost laughs again, not because itâs funny, but because she can practically hear Dijonai in her head going, âSee? Even the shelter lady agrees with me.â
âI do,â Paige says, keeping her tone casual, even as heat creeps up her neck that has nothing to do with Dallas. âAnd I have a plan.â
Azzi leans back slightly against the counter, arms folding, like sheâs giving Paige the floor but also not giving her a fucking inch.
âA plan,â she repeats.
Paige nods quickly, probably too quickly but sheâs kind of sick of everyone questioning her choices. âA whole plan. I have a dog sitter lined up and someone who can do overnights when weâre on longer trips. Iâve already looked at trainers and have the best vet in Dallas on speed dial. I know what Iâm getting into.â
Azziâs eyes stay on her, assessing. Paige thinks sheâd absolutely get lost in those warm brown pools if she didnât care so much about passing this test.
âAnd youâre sure?âÂ
Paige holds her gaze. âIâm very sure.â
âMhm,â Azzi hums again, like sheâs cataloging the answer but not quite buying it yet. âBecause Iâm not trying to be difficult, Paige. But it's my job to make sure a dog doesnât end up back here in a month because the person who wanted it didnât think past the cute part.â
Paigeâs stomach twists. Sheâs not necessarily offended. She gets it. She really does. Still, she canât stop the small edge in her voice when she says, âI did think past the cute part. I know what I want and what Iâm capable of.â
Azzi watches her for a second longer, then sighs and reaches for the clipboard again.
âOkay,â she says. âTell me your plan.â
Paige exhales slowly through her nose, then nods, convincing herself can handle this. Sheâs handled DiJonai so certainly this canât be any worse. However, she wasnât really prepared for the person holding the pen and doing the questioning to look like that while she did it.
After some back and forth, Azzi finishes the last few lines on the form, pen scratching steadily across the page in a delicate scrawl while Paige stands there, shifting on her feet awkwardly, trying not to look like sheâs back in high school waiting on a scouting evaluation.Â
âOkay,â Azzi says finally, flipping the forms back and setting the clipboard aside. She smooths a hand over the stack of papers and Paige feels like sheâs sealing her fate. âWhy donât we go into the back and you can see who weâve got.â
Paige blinks. âSo I passed?âÂ
Azzi pauses halfway around the counter, brow furrowing slightly. âPassed what?â
âThe little test,â Paige says, twirling her finger at the paperwork. âYâknow. The vibe check.â
Azziâs lips tighten like sheâs fighting back a smile. âThat wasnât a test. Itâs just paperwork.â
Paige narrows her eyes, not believing that for a second. It certainly felt like a test. A hard one at that. âBut I passed,â she insists. âRight? Because youâre letting me go back there to see dogs.â
Thereâs a beat where Azzi just looks at her, and then she laughs.
Itâs easy and warm, hitting Paige somewhere in the ribs like a chest pass that Arike put too much muscle into just to be a dick.
Paige has heard entire arenas scream her name. She has heard the snap of the net on a buzzer beater that sent her team into the playoffs. She has heard commentators lose their minds on national broadcasts.
Literally none of it compares to that laugh. If sheâs being honest, she wants to hear it every day for the rest of her life.Â
Azziâs laugh settles into a smile that lingers, eyes softening in a way that feels⊠admittedly not professional. âSure,â she says with an exaggerated nod, still smiling. âYou passed.â
Paige feels ridiculous and pleased at the same time, which is a dangerous combination. She does a small, subtle fist bump at her side, muttering âyesâ under her breath because if thereâs one thing Paige loves, itâs winning. No matter the context.Â
Azzi steps toward the hallway leading deeper into the building, gesturing for Paige to follow. âCome on,â she says. âLetâs see if anyone matches your very specific criteria.â
Paige wants to kick herself for the earlier failure, now that sheâs regained her footing, but Azzi is smiling at her so there are worse things in life. She falls into step beside Azzi, her heart beating faster than it has any right to.Â
The barking grows louder as they move down the corridor. This must be where the dogs are, she thinks. But as she watches Azzi walk ahead, Paige has the disorienting realization that she wouldâve followed her down any hallway she chose without a single question. Literally none.Â
The door swings open and the sound hits Paige first.
Itâs louder back here, a layered noise thatâs part barking, part whining, part nails scratching against kennel doors and concrete floors. The air is cooler than outside but still warm and a bit stifling with an unfavorable smell. Every few feet a pair of eyes tracks them. Some bright and hopeful. Some wary. Some tired in a way that makes Paigeâs chest twist a little bit.Â
Rows of kennels stretch down the corridor, metal and concrete with hand-written tags clipped to doors. A volunteer in rubber gloves walks past with a mop bucket, murmuring to one dog, sticking his fingers in another kennel. Paigeâs gaze flicks from cage to cage, trying to take it all in without looking like sheâs about to lose it.
She forces herself to breathe, then glances at Azzi as if Azzi is the only part of this that makes sense.
âSo,â Paige says, aiming for casual. âWhat do you do for work?â
Azzi looks at her like Paige has asked what the sun does. She extends her arm slightly, then opens both arms and gestures around them, the barking, the corridor, the chaos, like the answer is so blatantly obvious.
Paige feels heat rush up her neck so fast it almost makes her dizzy. âOh,â she says, voice catching on the word. âRight. I guess I thought people just volunteered here.â She clears her throat, scrambling for recovery. âI didnât know you could actually work here. Thatâs⊠thatâs fire.â
âIâm actually the executive director,â she says. âBut weâre short staffed, so here I am.â
Paigeâs confidence snaps back into place âMust be my lucky day then.â
Azzi smiles and dips her head, and Paige watches it happen. Thereâs a faint pause, a second where Azziâs eyes flick down like sheâs composing herself, and Paigeâs mind supplies the extremely unhelpful thought that she made her blush.
Azzi straightens, voice professional again. âGo ahead,â she says. âLook around. If you like any of them, let me know.â
Paige nods, trying to look like she is a person who can behave normally in the presence of a beautiful woman with big brown eyes, even when all sheâs done thus far is prove she absolutely cannot.
She starts with the first kennel on the left, a shepherd mix who sits calmly, head tilted like heâs evaluating Paige right back. Paige crouches and holds her fingers out through the bars. He sniffs, accepts the contact, then turns his head away.
âHi,â she whispers anyway. âYouâre very handsome, sir. You also seem like you donât give a shit about me. Respectfully.â
Azzi makes a noise that might be a laugh but quickly covers it with a cough.
Paige stands and moves to the next kennel. This one, a two year old cattle dog mix named Betty, according to her plaque, is bouncing, paws hitting the gate, blue eyes bright and frantic, tail whipping so hard it rattles the metal. Paige pets her through the bars and gets immediately licked, which makes her grin even as her hand gets wet with slobber.
âOkay,â she murmurs. âYouâre adorable, Miss Betty. Youâre also clearly a full-time job.â
The third kennel they come across is a pair of Chihuahuas, both small and trembling and dressed in tink pink jackets, pressed into the corner of the kennel like theyâre trying to disappear into the concrete. Paige crouches again, lowers her hand, keeps her voice soft. They watch her with wide eyes, but donât move.
âThose two are a bonded pair. They have to go together,â Azzi supplies. âWe have someone coming to look at them later.âÂ
Paige swallows, glad for an excuse to not make up an excuse to keep walking. She stands slowly, giving the dogs space as she continues her journey down the line.
In the next kennel is a lab mix who shoves his face toward the bars and demands affection. Heâs soft and wiggly and so undeniably adorable. Paige gives her attention willingly, scratching behind his ears, baby talking without shame.
âOh hi, Captain! Youâre so cute,â she says, her voice doing that ridiculous soft high-pitched thing that she canât help. âYouâre such a good boy. You could be famous. You could have brand deals.â
Captain pants happily, tongue lolling, and Paige smiles, but the feeling doesnât click into place the way she thought it would. Sheâs charmed, but sheâs not sure heâs the one, so she decides to keep perusing for her new best friend. Â
After another couple kennels, Paige looks down the long row and lets out a deep sigh. The corridor stretches on, and the sheer number of kennels settles on her shoulders. Itâs hard not to feel the sadness under the chaos, and the reality that for every dog here, there are more that never make it inside.
She finds Azziâs gaze.
âThereâs so many of them,â Paige says quietly.
Azzi nods once. âYeah,â she says. âWe have to turn a lot away, too. Itâs tough.â
Paigeâs mouth tightens. Her instincts kick in, that ever present feeling of wanting to fix any issue she encounters. âShould I maybe get two to help?â she blurts, then winces slightly. Itâs impulsive, and she knows it. She barely passed the test-not-test for one dog, she doubts the director would let her leave with two. But she also knows she would do a lot of things if it meant easing the weariness in Azziâs eyes.
Azzi laughs. âI appreciate the concern, but why donât you try your luck with one first, superstar.â
Paigeâs chest lifts with pride at the nickname, even though itâs clearly meant to be teasing. Because Azzi didnât know who she was, so she clearly doesnât know that Paige is, in fact, a superstar. She tries not to smile too hard but fails miserably.
âWell,â Paige says, as they start walking again, âdo you guys take donations?â
Azzi glances at her. âThe adoption fee is a donation. We donât just give them away for free.â
Paige shakes her head quickly. âNo, I know that,â she says, keeping pace. âI mean extra. Like⊠the Wings are always looking for charities to sponsor, and maybe we could do an adoption night at a game or something.â Her words come faster as the ideas start stacking one on top of another. âYou could have some dogs there, and like, I donât know, we could do a feature on the jumbotron. Maybe a little segment. We could get people to sign up to foster. Or donate supplies. OrâŠâÂ
She falters when she sees Azziâs eyebrows narrow slightly, not in annoyance, though. At least Paige hopes not. She slows, suddenly unsure if she just said something stupid.
âWhat?â Paige asks.
Azzi shakes her head, and her voice softens. âNothing,â she says. âYouâre just⊠really sweet to think about all that.â
Paige grins before she can stop herself, because Azzi just called her sweet. And sheâll take that to the grave with her because holy shit, is Azzi flirting back?
âRight⊠um,â she rubs the back of her neck, not sure what to do with that new bit of information. âIâll⊠uh⊠have our community relations team reach out,â Paige says casually, like she isnât already picturing Azzi standing beside her at center court, smiling while holding a bunch of wiggly puppies in their arms. Because thatâs one hundred percent the image in Paigeâs mind right now.Â
Azzi nods and hums, and they keep walking. The barking shifts around them, louder in some stretches, quieter in others. Azziâs gaze flicks from kennel to kennel automatically, calling out their names because she knows each one.
âYou know,â Azzi says after a beat, âmaybe you could do a photo shoot here to raise some awareness. Iâve been trying to get some Cowboys players here, but if you and your teammates are interestedâŠâ
âBet,â Paige says immediately, blue eyes lighting up in wonder. Because Azzi wants to see her again, and even if it is just to use her fame and charm to rehome dogs, Paige will take what she can get. Also, Azzi wants to take pictures of Paige. And she⊠wouldnât want to do that if she didnât think Paige was pretty, right? Â
âIâll get my whole team to show up. And I know CeeDee Lamb on the Cowboys, so heâll bring some of his boys too.â Paigeâs hands start moving as she talks, ideas spilling out in rapid succession now that she has a runway. âThis place will be empty when Iâm done with all these ideas in my head.â
Azzi laughs again, and Paige gathers that laugh like a reward.
âIs that so?â Azzi asks, amused.
Paige nods, dead serious. âTrust. Weâll do a whole calendar spread. And Iâll match all donations. Or maybe like one of those things where I donate for every point I score. I dunno⊠Iâll think of something good.â
âAnd do you score a lot?âÂ
âWhat?â Paige squeaks, trying to cover it with a cough as her mind ventures into extremely unhelpful territory.Â
âPoints⊠â Azzi clarifies, eyes sparkling with mischief that let Paige know sheâs keenly aware of her effect. âDo you score a lot of points?âÂ
âRight,â Paige clears her throat, reining in her thoughts that definitely did not discern Azziâs question as something else. âYeah, I mean⊠Iâm pretty good.â
Azzi hums. âMaybe Iâll check out a game sometime.âÂ
This information does something irrevocable to Paigeâs brain. The image of Azzi sitting courtside at her game, dressed in something other than muddy jeans and a humane society poloânot that she isnât also rocking that outâcheering for her, flashes through her head.
âYou⊠uh. Yeah. You definitely should.âÂ
They share a look that warms Paigeâs entire body, before Azzi turns and keeps walking, leaving Paige to clamor after her.
âSo what other great ideas do you have?âÂ
Paige keeps going, because momentum is a disease and she is currently infected. She starts listing more ideas, partnerships, themed nights, social posts, player features, sponsors. Sheâs halfway into her spiel thatâs legitimately three steps away from becoming a full on strategic marketing plan when she realizes Azzi has stopped walking.
Azzi is just looking at her, expression unreadable in a way that makes Paige freeze mid-sentence.
Paige clears her throat and forces herself to dial it back, suddenly aware she might be insulting Azzi, like she doesnât have all these ideas already. âWell,â she says, slower now, âI mean⊠youâre the boss. So whatever you think will work.â
Azziâs lips press together, and when she speaks, thereâs something honest under the dryness. âIâve been trying to do literally all of that for years,â she admits with a sigh. âJust havenât been able to get in front of the right people.â
Paigeâs confidence returns. She tilts her head slightly, meeting Azziâs eyes and leans forward to adjust the wrinkled collar of Azziâs navy blue polo.
âWell,â Paige says, pulling her hand back, âyouâre definitely standing in front of the right one now.â
Then she winks. Itâs subtle and quick, but itâs also the move that usually works for her.Â
Azziâs stare holds for a second longer than it should, and Paige has no idea whether she just flirted successfully or signed herself up for another round of judgment. But then her eyes land on a kennel past Azzi's shoulder, full of fuzzy husky puppies. Like, an actual pile of them. Her eyes widen with pure glee. Their little gray-and-white faces are pressed up against the bars, tiny bodies wiggling, ears not fully sure what theyâre doing yet, paws too big for the rest of their bodies.Â
Paige points before she even thinks about it, the words flying out of her mouth with zero thought for her dignity.
âPlease let me in there. Pretty please.â
Azzi glances over, then back at Paige, like sheâs taking in the fact that Paige Bueckers, professional athlete, is begging like a kid to be let into a room of puppies, hands clasped in front of her and everything.Â
She grins. âYouâre serious?â
Paige nods emphatically, already stepping toward the kennel, running her sweaty palms over her shorts to dry them off like these puppies will judge her for it. âSo serious, bro.â
Azzi shakes her head like sheâs humoring something ridiculous, but she walks over and unclips the latch. âAlright,â she says, stepping aside. âGo ahead.â
Paige doesnât even hesitate. She slips in and plops right down on the floor, gangly legs crossed, hands out, inviting the chaos. The puppies swarm immediately, climbing her thighs, shoving their faces into her hands, pawing at her shirt and Paige makes a noise that is absolutely not a normal adult sound. It might not even be really human.Â
âOh my god,â she shrieks, laughing, voice going soft and high in a way most people would think her incapable of. âHi. Hi, youâre all so cute and perfect and insane. I love you all.â
She lets them crawl all over her like sheâs a jungle gym. One puppy wedges itself under her leg, another tries to crawl up her shorts, while the most bold of the bunch climbs her shoulder.
Paige runs her hands over their fur, helpless and completely addicted to the softness. âWho wants to come home with me?â she coos, like sheâs not talking to animals that will forget she exists in ten minutes. âWho wants me to feed them off my plate and chew on all my furniture?â
One of the puppies tries to chew on her sleeve, and she just grins. âOh, hi little guy,â she says. âPlease donât do that, sir.âÂ
Azzi chuckles behind her but Paige barely registers it. Sheâs too enamored by fluff and puppy breath and tiny sharp little nails pressing into her arms and legs.Â
âWho wants to come home with me and snuggle in bed every night?â
She glances up at Azzi on that one and winks, because Paige is Paige, and she literally cannot help herself. But then she turns right back to the dogs like she didnât just flirt with the executive director of the Humane Society while being attacked by tiny fluffy husky puppies.Â
One of them, an especially determined light gray and white boy with darker eyebrows and stunning blue eyes, starts tugging on Paigeâs shoelace with tiny teeth, growling like itâs a real fight. Paige laughs and gently boops his nose.
âHey,â she tells him, mock-stern. âYou are stupidly cute but these are new, buddy.â
He ignores her, obviously, and just tugs harder so Paige scoops him up. Lifting him easily, the puppy immediately licks her face and then shoves his cold, wet snout into her neck, settling there like heâs decided Paige is his and thatâs that.
Paige could picture it now. Curling up on the couch after a long day of practice, eating a bite of her Wingstop herself before sharing one with the puppy melted across her lap. Sheâd order plain wings, obviously, but Nai would still scoff. Or howâd sheâd sneak him into the practice facility, dodging JosĂ© who would definitely be fucking pissed about it. Nola would help her keep the secret. Probably. And sheâd also need to order the cleaning staff lunch a few times during the whole potty training phase, but the DoorDash sponsorship would help with that. Â
Paigeâs smile softens as she cuddles him tight and thinks about all the adventures theyâll have. She looks at Azzi over the puppyâs head. âIs he available?â
She holds her breath when the words leave her lips.
Thankfully, Azzi nods. But Paige doesnât feel relief because thereâs a look on her face that Paige canât place at first. Itâs not really annoyed or disapproving, but thereâs something under the surface that doesnât read like joy at another dog leaving the shelter.Â
Paigeâs grin fades slightly. âWhatâs wrong?â
Azzi leans a shoulder against the kennel door, armsâarms that are actually quite muscular, not that Paige is lookingâfolding loosely over the chest, ruffing her polo a bit.Â
âNothingâs wrong,â she says, then she exhales. âItâs just⊠everyone always wants the puppies.â Her eyes move over the pile of fluff climbing all over Paigeâs legs and the little one tucked on her chest. âThese guys will be gone by the end of the day.â
Paige nods slowly, processing. She sighs and kisses the puppy once on the top of his head, then lowers him back down with a careful gentleness to rejoin his littermates.Â
She stands, haplessly brushing fur off her black shorts, then looks at Azzi having just made a decision.
âShow me the dog whoâs been here the longest.â
Azziâs brows lift. âAre you sure? Iâm not trying to guilt you if you think that puppy is the right fitâŠâÂ
And again with the people telling her what to do.Â
Paige nods without hesitation. She steps out of the kennel and gently nudges the puppies back inside as they try to follow. âSomeone will be here for you cuties soon,â she promises, voice a whisper like sheâs keeping a secret from the rest of the dogs there. âBye. I love you all. Be so good and have the best, most happiest lives.â
Azzi laughs at that and Paige grins, pretending it isnât her favorite sound in the world. She follows Azzi down the long row, past more kennels until she stops at one near the end.
Inside, tucked into the back corner, is⊠a dog.
Thatâs literally the first thought Paige has. Just a dog. Not in the âwhat a handsome boyâ way or really anything that involves being cute, per se. This one looks like someone took the leftover genes from five different breeds and tossed them in a blender.Â
His fur is curly in places, straight in others, patchy along his back like it canât decide what texture to commit to. The brown color of his coat is uneven, fading lighter around his muzzle, darker and almost muddy near his tail. One ear flops forward while the other sticks out to the side and his tail is too thin for his body and slightly crooked at the end.
If Paige had to guess, sheâd say thereâs some doodle in there. Maybe a retriever or lab. Definitely some pitbull. Maybe a shepherd. Probably something that once barked at a shepherd. Sheâs not entirely convinced a DNA test would come back with anything other than: Yes, this is a dog.
Heâs pressed low into the corner of the kennel, paws tucked awkwardly under him, head dipped eyes wide, but not wild. He looks more unsure than anything, and is, objectively, not the dog that would get picked first. Or maybe even last, which Paige supposes is why heâs still here.Â
And yet⊠thereâs something about him.
Paige feels the pull before she understands it.
Maybe itâs the way he doesnât budge when they approach, or how his nose twitches cautiously instead of snapping or retreating further. Maybe itâs the way his fur, despite the uneven curls and questionable grooming history, looks unbelievably soft right at the top of his big fat, disproportional head.
Or maybe itâs the way he watches them. His sad eyes not hopeful, like heâs resigned himself to living in this five by three foot cage for the rest of his life so itâs not even worth getting up to try. And for some reason, that makes him the most endearing thing sheâs seen all day.
âThis is Lenny,â Azzi says quietly, with a sigh like sheâs already waiting for Paige to find a polite excuse to pass.
Paige crouches. âLenny, huh?â Her voice turns soft on instinct and she glances at Azzi. âWhatâs his story?â
Azziâs shift. She seems a little caught off guard, but her eyes narrow, expression more serious now. âHeâs eight,â she says. âHe came to us almost a year ago after his owner passed away.â She pauses, eyes on the dog, offering him a contrite smile. âHe got passed around by family members for a while. Some of them⊠werenât very kind to him, so heâs a little skittish at first.â
Paigeâs jaw tightens, muscles tensing as she thinks about what kind of vile human can lay a hand on such an innocent being. And then her mind drifts to the way she was passed around after her parents divorce. Admittedly, itâs not the same thing. Plus, she eventually settled in with her dad and then got Drew. But still, deep down, she knows that listless feeling, of not knowing where home is. And this certainly isnât a place any dog should call home permanently.Â
Azzi keeps going, voice cracking just slightly. âHeâs so sweet,â she says. âBut everyone passes him up because heâs not the most social. The kennel situation gives him a lot of anxiety. He does better in quieter spaces. He just doesnât show well in here.âÂ
She keeps her tone measured, but Paige has spent decades reading tells on the court and Azzi has them too. Paige sees the way Azziâs eyes soften when they land on him, how her fingers wrap around the latch like sheâs itching to go in there and pet him. This is someone who has spent months memorizing this dog and thereâs something achingly tender about it. The way Azzi talks about him like heâs misunderstood instead of inconvenient.
Paige can tell he means a lot to Azzi, and that makes Paige tread lightly. âCan I go in?â she asks, quieter now.
Azzi studies her for a beat, like sheâs deciding if Paige is worthy of him. Then she lets out a reserved sighs, unclips the latch and opens the door. âYeah,â she says, handing Paige a treat from her back pocket. âGo ahead.â
Paige steps inside and lowers herself to the floor just inside the door, knees bent, hands resting on her thighs. She extends one hand out slowly, palm up with the treat resting on it, giving him room to decide.
âHey, Lenny boy,â she murmurs. âHow are you today?â
Lennyâs eyes stay locked on her hand, but he doesnât move at first. His whole body looks braced for something bad.
Paige doesnât let that deter her. She keeps talking in a low, gentle voice, the way she used to talk to Drew when he was a baby and Mila, now, when sheâs trying to convince her to lie so Phee doesnât yell at her for the whole ice cream after bed thing.Â
âYou donât have to do anything,â she tells him. âYou can just sit there and judge me. Thatâs fine. I get it. Iâm kind of a stranger.â
She shifts slightly, sitting down fully, careful not to crowd him. Arm extended, hand lying on the floor beside her, Paige lets the minutes pass, humming an Olivia Dean song absentmindedly. Paige can feel Lennyâs eyes on her and Azziâs eyes on her, but she doesnât feel pressure. Doesnât rush it.
Eventually, Lennyâs body loosens by a fraction. He inches forward, and takes one cautious step, then another. Then he pauses again like heâs fighting his own instincts, a war waging inside him. His eyes flick up to Azzi who just offers a soft, âItâs okay, Lenny.âÂ
Paige stays still, only wiggling her fingers slightly, inviting him. âThere you go, bud,â she whispers, eyes wide, as he inches closer again. âThatâs it. Youâre doing great.â
He finally reaches her hand and sniffs, long and slow, then nudges her fingers with his nose before cautiously grabbing the treat with the most dainty bite. Paigeâs heart clenches as he backs away to eat it. She casts a glance over her shoulder, catching Azzi with an absolutely beaming smile as he steps back into Paigeâs space. She slowly slides her hand up and rests it on his head, fingers sinking into the curls. And she was right. They are impossibly soft.Â
Lenny doesnât flinch when Paige starts rubbing slow circles, murmuring nonsense in a soft stream, telling him heâs good and safe and sweet, like the words might rewrite the past year if she says them enough times.
After a few minutes, Lennyâs body shifts even closer. He hesitates once, then settles his front paws onto her leg like heâs testing her. Paige holds her breath, doesnât move, just shoots Azzi a proud smile because she canât believe heâs coming around.Â
Then, something in him finally gives up the fight or maybe he just senses the pureness of Paigeâs heart like they say dogs can, and he climbs fully into her lap. Curling against her, he lets out a long, shaky sigh that comes from somewhere deep.
Paige swallows down the knot in her throat when Lenny lifts his big dopey head and looks up at her.Â
Those big brown eyes are soft and a little sad, but still beautiful in a way that makes her chest feel like itâs in a vice. Paige feels something inside her quiet, like thereâs been tension buzzing under her skin for weeks or maybe even years and she didnât notice until it was released.
âYou wanna come home with me, Lenny?â she whispers.
Lenny just stares at her like he doesnât have the energy to do much else, and Paige stares back like sheâll find the answer in his eyes. She can feel it, the certainty settling in as he gives her face one big lick before dropping his head back onto her lap.Â
She looks over at Azzi. âThis is my dog.â
Azziâs expression is careful. âAre you sure?â she asks. âI know you really liked the husky puppies. And having an older dog can be hard. Thereâs an adjustment period and Lenny is a special case.â
Paige knows what Azzi is doing. She isnât trying to talk her out of it. Sheâs protecting Lenny, making sure Paige understands what sheâs saying yes to. But Paigeâs hand just keeps stroking Lennyâs head, a newfound sense of calm washed over her. âIâm sure,â she says, and she means it with a certainty that surprises her.
Azzi exhales reluctantly. âLenny is my favorite.â
She steps into the kennel and lowers herself beside Paige, reaching out to scratch Lennyâs head. Lenny relaxes even more, then rolls slightly in Paigeâs lap, exposing his belly like heâs offering trust without reservation.
Azziâs fingers move gently through his curls, though they get stuck in the more matted parts. âHeâs had it rough the last year,â she explains. âHe really deserves the best for the short time he has left.â She looks at Paige with a sense of hesitation. âCan you do that?â
Paige meets her gaze and nods assuredly. âI can definitely do that. I promise Iâll give him the best life.â
Azzi nods once, decision made. âOkay then.â
She stands and grabs a leash from the hook on the wall, clips it onto Lennyâs blue collar, then hands it to Paige, hesitating just a beat.
âLetâs go finish the paperwork.â
They take care of all the paperwork up front in a blur that feels surprisingly efficient and not nearly long enough for Paigeâs liking. Which is saying something because thereâs a lot to cover. Like more, Paige thinks, than she had to sign when she signed her rookie deal with the Wings.Â
Still, she signs where sheâs told, initials where Azzi taps with the pen, listens to the rundown about microchips and food transitions and follow-up vet appointments. And the whole time, Lenny stays pressed against her legs, sitting directly on top of her shoes and making sure she doesnât disappear without him. Not that she would dream of it.Â
Every so often Paige feels his weight shift, a small sigh escaping him, and she glances down with a warm smile, squatting down to pat his head a few times and feed him one of the treats Azzi insisted she take.Â
Finally, Paige slides her card across the counter and tries not to think about how different this feels from any other purchase sheâs made in the last five years. So much more permanent.Â
âThank you,â Paige says when itâs done, meaning more than the transaction. âI promise Iâll take the best care of our boy, okay?âÂ
Azzi nods, tucking the paperwork into a folder with a sigh as she meets Paigeâs gaze. âI know you will,â she says. âAnd Iâll look out for a call about some promos from the Wings.â
Paige grins. âYou will. Iâll give our community relations director a call when I get home and get Lenny boy settled.â Â
Azzi smiles and walks them to the front doors. Right before Paige reaches for the handle, Azzi crouches down in front of Lenny and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the tightest hug, pressing her cheek into his mess of soft curls. âYouâre the best boy in the whole world,â she murmurs, voice soft in a way Paige hasnât heard yet but absolutely wants to hear over and over again. âBe so good, okay? I love you and Iâm gonna miss you, but I know youâre going to be so so spoiled just like you deserve.âÂ
Lenny leans into her like he understands every word, and maybe he does.Â
Paige watches the whole thing and something warm spreads through her. Itâs impossible not to see how much this place, and these dogs, mean to Azzi. Especially Lenny.Â
Azzi stands slowly, brushing her hands down her shorts, and for a second their eyes meet and Paige swears she sees a tiny tear forming in the corner of Azziâs eyes.
Paige takes a breath and reaches for the door.
Then stops.
She can feel her heart starting to sprint again, and she hates that it does that around Azzi, that sheâs not in control. She shifts her weight, then turns back around before she can talk herself out of it.
âHey,â she says, trying for casual but not coming close as she trips over the next words that leave her mouth. âCan I⊠um⊠maybe get your number? You know. In case I have any problems.â
Azziâs mouth curves. She reaches into her pocket, and grabs a card and extends it toward Paige. âThatâs the shelterâs direct line,â she says.
Paige looks down at the card, then back up at her a little dumbfounded. She thought she was being pretty straightforward. âWell like⊠what if itâs after hours?â
Azzi tilts her head. âThen you wait until we open the next morning?â
Paige frowns. âOkay, but like⊠what if itâs an emergency.â
God, sheâs never had to try this hard. If anything, girls usually read too much into what sheâs saying, not the other way around.Â
âI thought you had a trainer and a vet all set up,â Azzi replies smoothly.
Paige huffs, because she walked right into that. âOkay, yeah, I do. But you and Lenny are like⊠friends.â
Azziâs brows lift, amusement pulling the corner of her lip up into that adorable dimple. âFriends?â
Paige nods, smiling in a way that she knows probably looks a little unhinged. âWhat if he misses you? I mean, I gotta keep Lenny happy. Itâs really for his quality of life if you think about it.â She gestures vaguely toward the dog who looks like heâs ready for his fifth nap of the day. Honestly, so is Paige with all the mental gymnastics sheâs doing. âAnd you know⊠he doesnât have a lot of years left, so we gotta make them good.â
She throws Azziâs own words back at her without shame.Â
Azzi just laughs. Then, without warning, she steps closer and reaches into Paigeâs back pocket.
The contact is brief, her fingers just lightly brushing against Paigeâs hip as she pulls the phone free, but a sharp jolt runs straight up Paigeâs spine like that one time she shoved her finger into an outlet as a kid⊠or maybe it was college.Â
Azzi holds the phone up in front of Paigeâs face until it unlocks itself, then types in her number, and hands the phone back. Their fingers linger for half a second too long, the cool metal iPhone half in each grip.
âLenny really likes ice cream,â Azzi says, looking up at Paige through long eye lashes.
Paige nods, trying to remember how to breathe.
âAnd so do I,â Azzi adds, softer with a smile that almost borders on shy.
Paigeâs grin spreads before she can stop it, cheeks warming under the fluorescent lights. She knows Azzi can see how red she is, but she doesnât even care. âNoted.â
She shoves the phone back into her pockets, and reluctantly pushes the door open, the suffocating rush of sweltering Dallas humidity hitting her again.
As Paige walks to her Jeep with Lenny at her side, leash secure in her hand, she glances down at him and smiles.
âWeâre gonna get you another mom soon, Lenny,â she murmurs, rubbing his fluffy head with her free hand. âDonât you worry.â














