“Brace yourself.” Brooklyn opened the gate a crack and with the ease of long practice, let my two squeeze through and shut the gate on the disappointed golden and black duo. Before I could suggest they come for pats too, Brooklyn reached into a tub of toys by the gate and began throwing them across the exercise yard.
The two dogs yelped in glee and gave chase. Even Eb paused, looking wistfully over his shoulder at the flying rubber, before finishing his charge my way.
I said, “Sit,” before he could do me any damage and pulled his head into my lap, rubbing his silky ears and cheeks. Twain danced, clearly thinking about jumping up. I didn’t want twenty pounds of beagle to hit my aching lap so I said, “Sit pretty.” The begging position put his head in reach and I fondled his even silkier ears as he braced his feet on the side of the chair.
Nothing soothed a man’s soul better than petting a fur-baby. I murmured to these two how special they were, how pretty, such good boys, such sweet boys, while I rubbed their heads and soaked in the love. After a long time, when my head hurt less and my body felt settled, I looked up.
Brooklyn was gazing at us with a soft expression on his face. Well, everyone loved these two dogs, of course. Our eyes met and I smiled for what felt like the first time since I saw that gun in Frank’s hand.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “For having me and my menagerie in your space. For taking care of us.”
“My pleasure.” He gestured at the other two dogs playing tug-of-war with a rope toy, their ears up and their body language playful. “The more the merrier.”
I leaned back in my chair, raised my face to the sky, and patted Eb and Twain. The pain was still there, but the ibuprofen I’d taken at Safe Haven was beginning to kick in. The bouts of vertigo were scary, but with my last concussion, any dizziness had gone away fast. I was alive, Brooklyn was alive, Kevin was fine. The dog… “Did Kevin find that lost dog?” I asked without taking my gaze from the blue overhead.
I expected Brooklyn to tell me he didn’t know, but he said, “Yep. His dads told James who told Colin who told me that they caught her yesterday—apparently by luring her with their dog—and took her to the vet. She had a microchip, and now she’s back with her owner who’s building a taller fence.”
“Oh, good. Then everything worked out. Now I just need to quit spinning.” I could feel a bit of the vertigo hovering. If I ignored it, no doubt it would go away.
“Spinning?”
I was surprised to hear myself admit, “Still a little dizzy.” Usually I tried not to burden other people with my weaknesses, but somehow Brooklyn disarmed me.
I held my breath, waiting for him to make a fuss or ask intrusive questions, but the only one he asked was, “Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet.”
“Some of the dizziness might be low blood sugar. You think you can keep something down?”
I turned my attention inward, but patting Ebony apparently was good for stomachs too. “If it’s simple.”
“Grilled cheese?” Brooklyn said. “Would that work?”
Some of the flutter in my stomach turned into a grumble of yes, please. “Perfect. You’re amazing.”
Brooklyn’s loud huff of breath made me drop my gaze to check his reaction. He looked surprised, but maybe pleased too. “You keep on petting,” he told me. “That’s your job for now. Eb told me so. Two grilled cheese lunches coming up.”
I watched him head back into the house, heard him speak to the small dogs as he passed through to the kitchen. I sat with my dogs at my side and the two boarders now chasing each other around the yard, and something in me settled for the first time in…I don’t know. Years? This little house with the retrofitted dog spaces felt like my old place that I’d sold months ago, but somehow, even better. Homier. Warmer.
I pretended not to know that it was the presence of Brooklyn, someone I already liked and trusted, that made the difference.
CHAPTER 6
BROOKLYN
A week later, Eb and I were in a stare off.
“This is my cheese and I’m not sharing.”
He gave me puppy-dog eyes.
“You don’t beg with Arthur because you know he won’t give in. Well, I’m not giving in.” I held the slice of Swiss cheese in my hand. “Shouldn’t you be guarding Arthur or something?”
The light from my fridge was the only illumination in the kitchen. We were in the early hours of the morning—or was it the late hours of the evening…? I glanced at the microwave clock.
12:57
Too early for morning…so late, late evening.
