“I used to. Long time ago, now. I just got tired of making all the effort. Like, my freshman year, I used to call or text home every single Sunday morning. Then one time, I was sick.” I gave him a crooked grin. “Meaning hungover. I missed most of Sunday. I was going to call and apologize in the evening, but they hadn’t even texted me to check up. So I decided to wait and see what they would do.” Selfishly, I’d wondered if they’d worry about me like they did about Mel.
“And what did they say?”
“Five weeks later, I got a text from Mom. ‘We haven’t heard from you for a while. Are you okay?’”
“Five weeks?”
“Yeah.” Thirty-nine days, to be exact. Days I’d counted first in curiosity, then with growing anger, and eventually with a thickening ache in my chest. I hurried to add, “They were busy, of course. It was planting season, and my sister Mel was having some kind of crisis.”
“But still.”
“I was over eighteen and on my own. I was fine. I didn’t need them hanging over my shoulder, but I guess I found out they just weren’t all that interested in the kid that never fit in.” I’d still texted now and then through college, but those five weeks broke something in me that bound me to family and home. Something I’d never found again.
Brooklyn reached across and set his hand on my knee. The warmth of his palm reached me through the denim. My throat tightened and I kept my eyes on the road ahead, but I didn’t nudge him away either. He kept his hand there till he had to make the sharp turn into the shelter parking lot.
When he pulled up out front, I turned to him. “Thanks for the ride. You really didn’t need to.”
He waved me off. “Hey, it gave me a peaceful, extra twenty minutes before I have to deal with my sister.” As I opened the door, he said, “I’ll see you tonight, right?”
I pushed to my feet, balancing with the crutch, and peered back in. Brooklyn sounded hopeful, not like I was an additional burden in his home. But then, he was a generous soul. I couldn’t be sure what would be best. Still, moving out would be an effort I didn’t want to make tonight, and if he and Cheyenne had a rough day, maybe I could be there for him.
“Yeah,” I said, closing the door and giving the roof a little thump. “We’re good. See you tonight.”
CHAPTER 10
BROOKLYN
I’d thought Cheyenne might be awake when I returned, but her door was still shut. I let Arthur’s three out of the back kennels and into the house.
Eb loped over to an abandoned Kong and started nosing it—undoubtedly hoping for peanut butter. He was out of luck as I’d cleaned it thoroughly yesterday.
Twain headed for Arthur’s bedroom. Fancifully, I believed he was checking on Xandra. Realistically, he probably wanted more rest on Arthur’s comfortable bed that smelled like him. Hell, I wanted to bask in that scent as well. The way soap and clean skin had blended at the back of his neck had intoxicated me. At once fresh and soothing. Like a warm towel out of the drier.
Unexpectedly, Chili followed me around like a shadow. I might’ve thought she wanted food, but she just seemed to enjoy my company. I pushed down a little ego trip about being the difficult dog’s favorite person.
About ten minutes after I returned to my house, Poppy and her owner showed up at the door. The woman handed over the leash and beat a retreat to her car. She was working a daybreak shift and was grateful I was willing to take her pooch so early.
Poppy’s tongue lolled as she gave me slurpy kisses. Far be it for me to turn down affection. The young goldendoodle had the greatest personality.
Chili nosed her before they trotted together toward the kitchen.
Arthur had cleaned up, of course, so no crumbs were to be found anywhere. Still, the pooches lived in hope.
“Why don’t you head out to the backyard? Jett’s coming, so you can run off some of your energy.” Poppy vibrated with excitement as I checked my watch. “Okay, we’ve got some time. Let’s play ball.”
The goldendoodle bolted for the back room while Chili followed me at a more sedate pace. Ball was sometimes fun for her, but her happy place seemed to be by my side.
I wouldn’t point this out to Arthur, as I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Maybe it was a sign of doggie dementia, since no logical dog would pick me over Arthur.
Eb abandoned the Kong toy as I opened the patio door, shoving past me hard enough to jolt me on my heels as he followed Poppy out into the early morning cool.
Ordinarily, I’d work on door manners, but seeing the two wrestling as they dashed into the bigger play area made me laugh and I let it go.
When they got tired of trying to knock each other over, Poppy and Eb tore across the grass as I threw ball after ball.
We weren’t working on retrieving skills today—although they got tons of praise if they brought the ball back.
Jett arrived and we continued with vigorous exercise.
