A raspy chuckle makes me look up. “Looks like you met our Frenchies, huh?” Irma asks as she takes her time pulling them off me. “Tyson! Get in here and help me!”
My half-brother laughs when he sees me on the floor. “You should’ve warned us you were coming.”
I haven’t seen him in months, and this is how he greets me? “Nice to see you too, Ty.”
He’s not so little anymore. My brother is much taller than me. Still lanky, though. “Just here for a visit?” he asks as he helps me up.
I wobble and lean against the wall as he hands me my crutches. “I was hoping I could stay in my old room for a while. I got injured, so I can’t start my cheer job.” No sense in telling them I lost it. Irma’s always putting me down, and I can’t deal with any more negativity right now.
My stepmother makes a face. “Wish we had known you wanted your room. It’s occupied right now.”
“What does that mean?” And really, what the fuck? This was mymother’shouse. By all rights, it should be mine.
She shrugs. “Go look.”
Struggling to stay upright as the dogs nudge against me, I finally make it to the hallway. When I open the door to my bedroom, the stench of dog shit almost makes me gag. “What the hell?” There are dogs in crates everywhere, in every space on the floor, and there are two dogs on the bed barking at me.
Irma walks up behind me. “Tyson had the best idea to breed French bulldogs. Do you have any idea how much these puppies bring in? I always knew my boy would make me rich.”
I whip around and almost fall over. “You mean a puppy mill. Because that’s what this is, right?”
“You’re always so judgmental, Paige.”
“Excuse me for being upset that my room is filled with dogs.”
“Seeing that you rarely come home, how was I supposed to know you were going to stay here?”
“I left you messages.”
She waves a hand. “I don’t listen much to messages. You know how bad the reception is here. It’s always spotty.”
Irma keeps spouting her excuses as I hobble out to the living room. “So there’s no room? Could I sleep on the couch out here in the living room?” I hate that I have to beg, but what options do I have?
“Ty sleeps here, since his room is full of pups too.”
My jaw tightens. They’re hoarding dogs in my mother’s house, and now I have nowhere to go. Awesome.
Without another word, I head back out to my car where I struggle not to cry. I want to call Baylee, but she’s at a hair convention in Dallas.
So I drive around town until I get to the park sometime around dusk. As the shadows fall, I wonder where I went wrong with my life. How did I get to the point where I’m sleeping in my car?
I finally pull out a few boxes of my stuff so I can lean my seat back and try to sleep. But it’s so hot, I strip out of most of my clothes, only leaving on my sports bra and underwear. I glance down at myself and shrug. It’s like wearing a bikini.
I roll down my windows a crack so I don’t suffocate. I’d like to lower them all the way, but it’s probably not smart to sleep like that.
As I settle for the night, I tell myself things will be better in the morning. They have to be. Once I’ve slept, I’ll have a clear mind and will figure out what to do.
Several hours later, I have to pee. Half-asleep, I tiptoe to the bushes and do my business before I wobble back. It’s almost daybreak. I should probably get going, but I’m exhausted.
I finally fall back asleep when some asshole bangs on my window and I jerk awake. With my heart pounding in my chest, I struggle to remember where I am.
“Paige Lewis,” a cranky-ass voice yells. “Why the hell are you sleeping in your car?”
When I come face to face with a pissed-off Rhett Walker, I groan and shove my hair out of my face. “What do you care? Go away.”
His coal-black eyes somehow darken, and for a brief moment, I let myself look at him. His hair is short on the sides and longer on top. He has scruff along his handsome face, and his lips look just as full as they always have. And oh, my God, the tattoos on his biceps are sexy as hell.
Never gonna happen, Paige. Give it up already.
