Snagging my phone, I thumb through my contacts until I land on Hazel. If anyone around here would randomly adopt a stray with attitude, it’s my equally sassy sister.
The line rings once before she picks up—already yelling.
“Oh, now you wanna talk? You ignored all my calls, texts, and apologies for days. Now, suddenly you need something?”
I bite back a sigh. “Jesus, Hazy, can we skip the dramatic intro for once?”
“You can skip my ass. What do you want?”
“Do you have a dog?”
There’s a pause. “What?”
“A dog, Hazel. You know, four legs, tail, drools like a toddler with a sinus infection—”
“No! When would I have time for a fucking dog? I’m running a whole-ass farm, remember?”
“You make it impossible to forget,” I mutter, rolling my neck along my shoulders. “Does Mom have a new dog? Think it’s a puppy.”
“Call Mom yourself, asshole!” she snaps, then hangs up on me.
I stare at the screen. Then the dog. Then back at the screen.
“You should be the one making the calls, bud. It’s your life on the line, not mine.”
He gives me his ass and plops back down, curling into a ball.
I flip him off.
And even though everything in me screams that I don’t have time for this—that I barely have enough in me to keep my own life from falling apart—there’s something about the stupid, cute mutt that gets under my skin.
Whatever it is, it pushes me to do the very last fucking thing I want to do.
Call my mother.
“Kade?”
I clear my throat. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, baby. Something you need to talk about, or did you just call to tell your mama you miss her?”
“No.” My jaw snaps shut at the automatic reply. “I mean, sorry, not exactly.”
I really do miss you.
The words hang on my lips, but I can’t force them free, because, again, I’m an asshole.
“Well, color me disappointed.” The sad smile in her voice makes my gut twist. “What’s going on?”
“Do you…” I trail off, tug on my hair, and clear my throat. “Do you happen to have a new dog?”
There’s a long pause, then, “Huh.”
My brows pinch. “Huh?”
“I might,” she murmurs. “I can’t really remember.”
My lip twitches. “Forgot, huh? Do you have very specific dog amnesia I’m unaware of?”
