Page 14 of Not Your Romeo
“Are you gonna put that fucking thing away, or terrorize me with it some more?” I screamed, throwing a wild elbow his way. Wyatt groaned and curled into me. The dog froze, losing all interest in the shirt.
“Wyatt.” I panicked.
When I shot him an imploring look, I realized he wasn’t in pain, that bastard was laughing at me!
“This is not funny, that thing is vicious.”
“Vi–” He couldn’t even say it without drawing back to see if I was serious while he laughed.
“Look at him,” I gestured toward the dog, who still hadn’t lost interest in his master’s shirt.
Wyatt shook his head, “Nah. Zeus isn’t going to hurt you. He just likes to play catch, particularly with my stuff.”
He grunted and gestured toward the dog with his chin while he worked a boot off, stripped his sock, and tossed it in the air. I screamed as the dog snapped it up midair, threw it on the ground, and began to repeat the process.
“He’s out of control.”
Wyatt laughed and reached down.
“No,” I blurted out, certain we were destined for the nearest emergency room.
His fingers tipped the dog's head. The animal went still the minute he connected. Wyatt slid his hand around the dog's jaw and stroked the underside of his slobber riddled chin.
“Who is a good boy?” He lowered and stretched his tone.
Zeus’s tail nub began to twitch.
“Did you cut that dog’s tail off?” I asked, horrified all over again.
“Do you dislike the dog or want to advocate for it?” he teased, before leaning down to guide the dog. Once it was turned, I could see its tail was more corkscrewed than straight. It didn’t seem cut, more just, an odd sort of tail.
“Huh.”
“His breed has trouble sometimes, with things building in the wrinkles back there. So, I gotta keep an eye on him, but it’s always been that way. He’s not aggressive unless he’s commanded to be.”
“You trained him to be aggressive, you mean?”
“No, I trained dogs in the military. He’s not trained like that, but he knows a thing or two.” Wyatt winked and reached out for my hand. “This is the living room. The twins are stationed out of the country, but when they’re home on leave, that’s them back there.”
I noted a short hallway with three doors.
“The other one a closet?”
“Bathroom.” He clarified, before leading me through a kitchen and into a formal dining room. The dining room gave way to a short hallway with two more doors on either side of a laundry set up. “Those were Sammy and Sauce’s rooms, but neither of them lives at home anymore. The door goes out back.”
“Do I get to see the big windows upstairs?” It was outdated, but it had a nostalgia about it, and I was willing to bet there was an excellent view of the neighborhood.
“Yeah,” He huffed a small laugh, “That’s the bedroom, bath is up there, too, and you certainly look like you could use one of those.”
His gaze dropped to my nose and I groaned, knowing I was probably stained red. He cocked his head and led the way up the stairs. The upper level wasn’t an open-floor plan as I’d pictured it. The stairs opened to a roughly six by six foyer with two doors to choose from. Wyatt started toward one, but the pink and white frill of the baby crib in the other room caught my attention, with the door being slightly opened. The mattress still had a sheet wrapped around it, and a few stuffed animals littered the interior. A stack of letters lay on the floor, the kind that is usually hung on the wall to spell out a child’s name. The top one was a Y, as best I could tell, before Wyatt tugged the door closed and slid his hand across my shoulder.
“Bath is this way,” He offered a weak smile and led me toward the bedroom. “There’s the windows you were asking about.”
“I– I don’t have any clothes to change into.” I realized.
“It’s all good. I’ll get you something.” He fumbled around in the drawers and found a long shirt.
I gravitated toward the windows, and stared out at the street below, still trying to decipher the weight of that other room. If his children were grown, and he had no grandchildren, why did he have a crib? I turned to confront a subtle popping noise and found him holding a towel and rummaging through a cabinet. The pop sounded again when he closed it and wiggled a bottle of spring-water-scented soap.
