Chapter Thirteen Remi
Chapter Thirteen
Remi
For once, the dogs behaved. Scout might have lingered a bit too long at the spot where Edgar had peed right before him, and had to squat in the exact same spot three times, but he finally came when I called his name.
I took one last loop through the building, double-checking water bowls and bed setups. I stopped by the supply closet in the kennel room and snagged one of the new fleece blankets from the top of the stack, then slipped into Bandit’s kennel.
He was sitting in the corner, his blue eyes watchful and his body language relaxed as I added a second blanket to his bed.
“Don’t tell the others, because they’ll think I’m playing favorites.” I’d watched him on the camera earlier and noticed that he liked to burrow into the blanket. I bunched the new one up alongside the other to create a little blanket barrier.
His head tilted slightly when I was finished.
“What do you think?” I asked.
Bandit blinked.
“I’ll take that as approval.”
Because we’d gotten through the evening routine fairly quickly and I had a little extra time, I slid down against the wall of his kennel and left my hand resting on my leg, palm up, fingers relaxed.
Slowly, I inched my hand out, and he extended his snout a few inches like he wanted to sniff me, but stayed right where he was.
“It’s okay. We’ll get there eventually.”
The pocket of my hoodie held the last pieces of hot dog, so I pulled the bag out and tossed him the few left over. His eyes stayed on me as he lowered his head, but as he ate, his tail gave a few uneven thumps, and a smile overtook my face.
For a few moments longer, I stayed and enjoyed the relative quiet.
Relative, of course, because Daisy was barking at a fly in her kennel, Scout’s collar jangled as he scratched at his neck, and Eddie howled at something I couldn’t see.
But still . . . it wasn’t bad. Finally sitting felt like a small kind of win.
My muscles were screaming for a hot shower after unloading all the boxes.
More than once, I wished I hadn’t said no to the extra help unpacking.
Throughout my evening shift, between answering the phones and doing some admin work to lighten my load the next morning, most of our fosters came through and picked up more food, toys, and puppy pads, all of them curious to know who our mystery donor was.
Join the freaking club.
In the past, Muriel had friends who’d spontaneously show up with items off our wish list, but no one in Second Leash’s ten years had ever come in and cleared that list completely.
It had to be him, didn’t it?
Or did I just want it to be?
Archer Evans was a mystery, and I didn’t much like those. Figuring him out was priority number one.
Or ten, or twenty, depending on the day. But on the to-do list surrounding hot, pompous football players currently infiltrating my life, he was definitely in the top spot. How else was I supposed to compartmentalize his overwhelming presence?
As it was, he invaded far too much brain space, slipping unnoticed into areas he had no business being in.
“What do you think about him, Bandit?”
The dog slowly lowered his body to the floor, keeping his eyes trained on me as he settled his muzzle between his paws. His ability to relax in my presence was a good step, and another one of my wins for the night.
Not wanting to disturb his well-earned quiet, I stood slowly and left his kennel. After securing the latch, I turned off all the lights and let myself out through the front doors.
The sun was going down as I drove home, and I yawned about seven times, praying that Analise would have Gavin ready for bed, because there was no way I’d make it past nine thirty.
As I neared home, I glanced in the rearview mirror and swore to try some new mascara.
It should not be so hard to find something that didn’t give me raccoon eyes the size of a softball after a shift of mild physical labor.
It was pure vanity that had me licking the edge of my thumb to clean off the dark smudges. The car behind me honked when the light turned green, and I waved my hand in acknowledgment.
“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered. “If you had to face Archer Evans when you got home, you’d clean up a little bit too.”
When I turned onto our street, there was no sign of his truck, and I let out a sigh of relief. The thought of him waiting for me there was a bit too much. Then I started picturing him in my home, manspreading on my couch, taking up way more space than anyone else usually did.
Other than Pops and Vanessa, I’d never had a true guest sit on that couch. Or look at the inside of my house. Being allowed into my sanctuary was a privilege. I wasn’t showing off that family room all willy-nilly—they had to earn it.
Home visits usually came after date six. By that point, I knew I’d sleep with them, but the extra two dates, and their meeting Gavin, were what kept my head on straight.
Date six was where the last one had gone off the rails—a disastrous meeting of his friends, where I found out that not only did he not view our arrangement as exclusive, but I was also the butt of jokes for holding out on going to bed.
Thank you. Next.
Exhausting wasn’t even the right word. It was something much deeper than that.
To want something that feels so wildly out of reach sapped me of something vital.
It would be one thing if I didn’t care. Or didn’t lie in bed at night and think maybe it would be nice to have someone there with me.
To talk about our days and figure out what dinners we might make that week. To share the emotional load of life.
I did want that. And I wanted it enough that I kept trying.
But as I pulled my car into the garage and leaned my head against the headrest, I couldn’t deny that my entire existence seemed hell-bent against making romance a priority.
As the words floated through my mind, the garage door opened and Gavin poked his head through.
“You’re home!” he yelled.
His hair was wet, sticking up straight in the front, cheeks still rosy from the hot shower.
With a groan, I hauled myself out of the car and braced for the impact of his hug.
“Hey.” I kissed the top of his head. “You smell nice and clean. Did you soap up everywhere?” I asked meaningfully.
Gavin nodded. “Pits and privates got extra.”
“Excellent work.”
Analise was curled up on the couch when we came through the garage door, and her smile was bright and happy. “Hey, how was work?”
“Great. I’m exhausted.” Gavin leaned against me, and I curled an arm around him, soaking up the easy affection. “Did you two have fun? Were you a good, respectful child?”
“Yes and yes. We made chips and cheese for dinner, and then we played Mario Kart for an hour.”
Analise grinned.
“Lucky boy,” I said.
“She helped me with my homework, even though she hates math too.”
I laughed. “Oh man, she’d fit in great at this house, wouldn’t she?”
Analise tucked her phone into her pocket and gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m not great at school, if I’m being honest. Reading makes my brain hurt and it’s so hard for me to focus, but I have enough tutors dragging me through my classes that I’ll graduate with a three-point-five.”
“That’s great,” I told her. “I was a solid B-minus student, and I did not lose sleep over that. My grandfather raised me, and it was a struggle to get him to help me with math because we ‘didn’t do it the old way.’ I’m just glad he didn’t expect A’s out of me.”
Gavin tugged on my arm. “Can I go have a bedtime snack?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “A quick one. A glass of milk and a graham cracker, okay?”
He groaned. “Can’t I have cereal?”
“Too much sugar. Take it or leave it, dude.”
Gavin heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
Analise smiled as he took off for the kitchen. “He’s a great kid.”
“Thank you. I kinda like him.”
She chewed on her bottom lip as she studied me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How has my brother been during his volunteer hours?” she asked carefully. “He won’t tell me anything, and I’m usually the only person he talks to. Made me curious if he’s been absolutely impossible, because I know he can be.”
“Oh boy.” I laughed. “You’re diving right in, aren’t you?”
She scrunched her nose. “Sorry. I have zero filter on a good day. It drives my father crazy.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Most things about me drive him crazy, though,” she murmured. “Starting with the not-impressive-enough GPA.”
My chest ached at the expression on her face. “That can’t be true.”
Her face brightened, but something about it seemed forced. “Believe me, it is. I’m used to it. We’ve always been like oil and water.”
“That’s what Pops said about him and my mother.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “They never got along either.”
“Do they now?”
I gave her a sad smile. “She passed away when I was little. She wasn’t very healthy, and she had a heart attack when I was five. I don’t even really remember her.”
Her face was stricken. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Remi. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re fine. It is what is. I had a wonderful childhood with my grandfather. He’s the most important man in my life.”
She smiled. “That’s Archer for me. He’s the best brother in the entire world.”
“Archer?” I asked disbelievingly.
Analise laughed. “Yeah. No one believes me when I say that. He’s . . . he’s pretty guarded.”
I snorted. “That’s one word for it.”
“Has it been bad?” There was something so sweet about this girl—perceptive, too, because she clocked my hesitance to answer and gave me an encouraging smile. “You can be honest.”
“Okay. Then, honestly, I wanted to slap the shit out of him the first three or four days he came in. I thought he was arrogant and cold. Too good to do menial labor.” I shook my head, inhaling slowly.
“And he is so talented at pissing me off. He could walk in and say one thing, and my blood pressure goes sky-high. Also, I cannot tell if he hates dogs, and that really bugs me for some reason.”
Analise smiled. “Yeah, that’s how he acts when he’s unsure.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious. Archer doesn’t let himself relax very easily.
” Her eyes were earnest, like she was begging me to understand something.
“But when he does, he’s . . . he’s thoughtful and he’s supportive.
He’d literally do anything to protect me.
And I think I’m the only person he’s had the chance to love, you know? ”
“Analise . . .”
She kept going. “I know this seems crazy to tell you all this, but if he brought me here, if he’s trying with you, it’s because there’s something there. He probably doesn’t know how to show you that he’s interested, but he’s such a good person underneath his shell, Remi, I promise—”
“Analise,” I said more firmly. “I hardly know your brother. He just happened to be there when I found out I didn’t have a babysitter.
” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up my hand.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t need to try and sell me on him.
He’s not the kind of guy who would fit in my life.
He’s a professional athlete, and I can’t deal with all the things that come with that—even if he was interested, which he’s not. ”
“But if he was—”
“He’s not. We don’t . . . we don’t mesh. I can’t invite someone into my life who’s done some of the things he’s done,” I answered carefully. “I have a son to think about.”
Her expression never wavered. “No, you don’t understand. He’s . . . he’s not the way he portrays himself to be. I know what the media says and how all this looks, but he doesn’t care what other people think of him.”
“I’m glad he’s such a good brother—”
“He’s the best brother. He’d do anything to protect me, even if it ruined him,” she said fiercely.
It was the light in her eyes—not angry, not stubborn, but so genuine, so steadfast—that made my head rear back.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I got too excited when he brought me to meet you,” she said, opening her eyes again and giving me a meek smile. “He’s never done that before.”
“It’s okay,” I answered gently. “I’m glad you two are so close.”
“Hey, Analise, come here!” Gavin called from the kitchen. “I want to show you something on my iPad.”
I tilted my head. “Go ahead. I’m gonna go get the mail.”
She left the room with a smile, but I saw the hint of regret in her eyes—probably worried that she’d shared too much. As I let myself out the front door, my head was spinning.
“What the fuck was that?” I breathed.
Just as I said it, Archer’s truck parked in the driveway, his gaze on me as I pulled the mail from the mailbox.
As he hopped out of the truck, I kept circling and circling around what she’d said, the urgency with which she’d said it. My steps slowed until I stopped halfway up the driveway.
Archer adjusted the hat on his head, concern etched on his face.
I stared up at him, my heart racing. It would be so much easier to keep my mouth shut. So much easier to let him take his sister and leave my house and keep a safe, healthy, professional distance between us when I saw him again at the shelter.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It was the sound of his voice that did it. Low enough to send a pleasant shiver down my spine. Sure enough to unlock the self-preservation that I usually held so tightly in check.
“It was her, wasn’t it?” I asked.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Your sister was the one driving that night, wasn’t she?”