Updated Nov 27, 2025 • ~8 min read
Jo was deep in design mode, working on Logan’s website mockups, when someone knocked on her door with the kind of authority that made her stomach drop.
That wasn’t a friendly neighbor knock. That was an official knock.
She opened the door to find Anderson Alcott holding a clipboard and wearing his “building manager” expression instead of his usual friendly one.
“Ms. Abbott. Do you have a moment?”
Oh no.
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
Anderson glanced past her into the apartment. “May I come in? This is an official matter.”
Double oh no.
Jo stepped aside, heart sinking. Olive trotted over to investigate, tail wagging.
“Hi there, Olive,” Anderson said, his expression softening slightly before returning to professional neutral. “Ms. Abbott, I’m afraid I’ve received multiple noise complaints about your dog.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. “Multiple?”
“Three in the past two weeks. Excessive barking during work hours. According to the complaints, it’s been disruptive to other residents.”
Jo’s mind raced. “Who complained?”
“I can’t disclose that information. But I am required to address it.” Anderson consulted his clipboard. “Per your lease agreement, section 12.3, pets must not create excessive noise that disturbs other tenants. Continued violations can result in—”
“Eviction. I know.” Jo’s hands were shaking. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I work from home, so I’m here most of the time, and she only really barks when—”
She stopped. When did Olive bark? Usually when someone walked past the door. Or when she heard certain noises from other apartments.
Or when Jo left her alone.
“I’ve been going out more,” Jo admitted. “Meeting with a client, running errands. Is that when the complaints happened?”
“I believe so, yes. During business hours when you weren’t home.”
Guilt crashed through her. She’d been so caught up in designing Logan’s branding that she’d been leaving Olive alone more than usual. And Olive, anxious dog that she was, had apparently been expressing her feelings vocally.
Very vocally.
“I’ll fix it,” Jo said quickly. “I’ll hire a dog walker. Or doggy daycare. Or—I’ll figure something out. Please don’t evict us.”
“I’m not evicting anyone. Yet.” Anderson’s expression softened. “This is a warning, Ms. Abbott. You have two weeks to resolve the situation. If I receive more complaints after that, I’ll have to take further action.”
Two weeks.
Jo could work with two weeks.
“Thank you. I promise I’ll handle it.”
Anderson nodded and headed for the door. He paused. “For what it’s worth, I like you and Olive. You’re good tenants otherwise. But I have to treat everyone fairly.”
“I understand. Really. Thank you for the warning.”
After he left, Jo sank onto her couch. Olive immediately climbed into her lap—all seventy pounds of her.
“You can’t keep doing this, girl,” Jo whispered into Olive’s fur. “We could lose our home.”
Olive licked her face.
Jo spent the next hour researching solutions. Doggy daycare was expensive. Dog walkers were expensive. Anti-bark collars felt cruel.
Her phone buzzed.
Logan: How are the mockups coming?
Jo: Good. Should have something to show you by tomorrow.
Jo: Random question—do you know anything about dog training?
Logan: Some. Why?
Jo: Olive’s been barking when I’m not home. Got an official noise complaint. I need to fix it fast or we could get evicted.
The typing indicator appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Logan: I’m coming over.
Jo: What? No, you don’t have to—
But he’d already stopped responding.
Three minutes later, Logan knocked. Jo answered to find him in his usual black-on-black, expression serious.
“Show me where she is when you leave,” he said without preamble.
“Hello to you too.”
“Abbott. Show me.”
Jo gestured to the living room. “Usually on the couch or by the window. Sometimes by the door.”
Logan walked through her apartment, examining sight lines, checking windows, testing door sounds. Olive followed him like a shadow.
“She’s anxious,” Logan said finally. “Separation anxiety. That’s why she barks.”
“I figured. But I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You desensitize her. Make leaving less dramatic.” Logan crouched down to Olive’s level. “You’re scared when Jo leaves, aren’t you? Think she’s not coming back.”
Olive’s tail wagged uncertainly.
“How do you know that?” Jo asked.
“I told you I had a dog. Bear had the same issue when I first got him. Rescue dogs often do.”
“What did you do?”
Logan stood, still looking at Olive. “Practiced leaving. Started with thirty seconds. Then a minute. Built up gradually. Made it boring instead of an event.”
“That works?”
“It did for Bear. Took a few weeks, but he stopped panicking every time I grabbed my keys.”
A few weeks. Jo had two weeks before Anderson came back.
“I don’t have a few weeks,” she said quietly.
Logan’s expression shifted. “Right. The warning.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there in her living room, Olive between them, the weight of the situation settling.
“I could help,” Logan said abruptly.
Jo blinked. “What?”
“Help train her. I’m home during the day before my evening appointments. We could work on it together. Speed up the process.”
“Logan, I can’t ask you to do that—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“But why?”
Logan’s jaw ticked. He looked at Olive, not at Jo. “Because I don’t want you to lose your home. And because—” He stopped.
“Because?” Jo prompted.
“Because she’s a good dog. She just needs help.”
That wasn’t the whole answer. Jo could tell. But she wasn’t going to push.
“Okay,” she said. “If you’re serious about helping, I’m not going to turn that down. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This is going to take work. From both of you.”
“We can do work.”
Logan finally looked at her. “Yeah? You going to follow my instructions without arguing?”
“Probably not.”
That almost-smile appeared. “Honest, at least.”
They spent the next twenty minutes with Logan explaining his training plan. Practice departures starting immediately. Create a calm routine around leaving. Don’t make a big deal of goodbyes or hellos. Give Olive a high-value treat that only appears when Jo leaves.
“Consistency is key,” Logan said. “Every single time you leave, same routine. Even if you’re just going to check the mail.”
“Every single time.”
“And you need to actually leave. Not hover outside the door listening. She’ll sense you’re still there.”
“How did you know I was planning to do that?”
“Because you overthink everything. You’ll want to make sure she’s okay.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Fine. I’ll actually leave.”
“Good. We’ll start tomorrow. Meet me downstairs at noon. Bring Olive and treats.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Logan headed for the door. Jo followed.
“Logan?”
He turned.
“Why are you really doing this? And don’t say it’s just because she’s a good dog.”
Logan held her gaze. The moment stretched between them, loaded with something Jo couldn’t quite name.
“Because I want to,” he said finally. “That enough?”
It wasn’t an answer. But it was honest.
“Yeah. That’s enough.”
After he left, Jo pulled out her phone.
Jo: Logan is going to help me train Olive so we don’t get evicted.
Erika: I’M SORRY WHAT
Jo: Anderson came by with an official noise complaint. Three different people complained about Olive barking when I’m gone.
Erika: Oh no. Are you okay?
Jo: Panicking slightly. But Logan offered to help. He had a dog with separation anxiety before.
Erika: This man keeps showing up exactly when you need him.
Jo: It’s a coincidence.
Erika: It’s not a coincidence. He LIKES you.
Jo: He’s being a good neighbor.
Erika: Good neighbors don’t volunteer to dog train. Good neighbors smile and wave in the hallway.
Jo: Maybe he’s just a really good neighbor.
Erika: You’re impossible. When do you see him again?
Jo: Tomorrow at noon. He’s taking us somewhere.
Erika: IT’S A DATE
Jo: It’s dog training.
Erika: It can be both.
Jo looked at Olive, who’d settled onto the couch with her favorite toy.
“You’re going to be on your best behavior tomorrow, right?” Jo said. “No chaos. No drama. Just a good girl learning to be calm.”
Olive squeaked her toy.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
That night, Jo lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about Logan’s expression when he’d offered to help. The way he’d looked at Olive with understanding instead of annoyance. The way he’d looked at Jo like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t just the chaotic neighbor who kept causing problems.
Her phone buzzed.
Logan: BTW the website mockups don’t have to be done tomorrow. Take your time.
Jo: They’re almost done anyway. I’ve been enjoying it.
Logan: Yeah?
Jo: Your work is inspiring. Makes my job easy.
Logan: That’s the first time anyone’s called my work inspiring.
Jo: Then people haven’t been paying attention.
A long pause. Jo thought maybe the conversation was over. Then:
Logan: See you tomorrow, Abbott.
Jo: See you tomorrow, Marchand.
Jo fell asleep with her phone in her hand and hope in her chest.
Maybe they could fix this.
Maybe Logan could help her save her home.
And maybe—just maybe—something else was being built between them in the process.
Something that had started with a pee-stained doormat and was turning into something neither of them had expected.
Something that felt a lot like the beginning of something real.
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