Chapter 5 #2
“Just . . .” I press my lips together. My brother and I are pretty brutally honest about our feelings most of the time, but for some reason, I hold back on the string of protests in my head.
I don’t like dogs. I have never wanted a pet.
I don’t need this constant reminder of Kyle.
“Like, my apartment is small enough with just me.”
Theo shrugs. “You could move.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “I’ve told you, I love this place. I’ve only been here a year.”
Also, I couldn’t afford to move.
“You might be safer,” he says.
I grit my teeth. “Look, I got a camera at your insistence. I take self-defense classes. I carry pepper spray. And now I have this.” I gesture to the dog, who’s nosing the now-empty bowl across the floor. “Which I doubt will really help anything.”
Theo’s expression darkens. “When was the last time you charged your front door camera? Because my app says your battery’s dead.”
Crap. I go to the door and unfasten the battery pack, then plug it in on the counter. Normally, I never let it run down. But the one time I forget, of course Theo is here to check.
“Look, I know you’re as safe as you can be.” His voice gentles. “But when I’m in another hemisphere of the globe next week, I’ll feel better knowing your new roommate here is looking out for you.”
I study the dog with a frown. “What makes you think he’ll do that?”
“It’s what he’s trained to do.”
I wrinkle my nose. My “roommate” has given up on more food appearing in his dish and now paces the apartment, making a low whining noise.
I drop onto the couch. “Is he going to do that all the time?”
“He probably needs to go out,” Theo says, reaching for the leash I left on the counter. “I’ll take him. But where do you want me to put this?”
I look up at the huge, ugly dog crate blocking my door. The one doing zero for my cozy aesthetic. “Do I have to keep it? Can’t I just get a cute dog bed?” Even as I speak the words, I can’t believe they’re coming out of my mouth.
“You might want to decide about that later. He’s used to sleeping in it.”
“Whatever. Just put it over there.” I gesture to the farthest corner by my bed so I won’t have to look at it in the center of the room. “Are you sleeping on my couch tonight, or what?”
Theo glances at the clock on my microwave. “If that’s okay? I have to head out tomorrow, but I should probably run down to see Mom first or she’ll never forgive me.”
“Truth.” I sigh, knowing she’ll grill him, wanting to know the next time I’ll visit.
I watch Theo maneuver the crate where I directed, even pausing to arrange a few books on top of it in an attempt at decor, and something loosens in my chest. He might be a brawny, overprotective dude’s dude, but I know how lucky I am to have him.
I hop up, crossing the room to fold him into a hug. He stiffens and squirms, acting like my arms are covered in stingers before relenting and hugging me back.
“Thanks for looking out for me, little bro. I know you went to a lot of trouble to arrange all this, and I appreciate it.”
He snorts. “No, you don’t.”
I pull away, unable to look him in the eye. “Your effort is appreciated.”
“What are you writing about this week?” he asks, changing the subject.
I bite my lip, thinking about the Unmatched lead in my inbox. How I might not be on the assignment desk or as short on cash if I write the article Randall’s pushing for.
“Pets,” I say firmly, gesturing to the dog.
“Good.” He grunts his approval, and that’s when I realize he thinks it’s that simple.
“You know I could write about the water table and some asshole would still send me nasty messages eventually, right? That’s the nature of modern journalism. People like to say mean shit from behind their computers.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to go baiting them.” When I roll my eyes, he just sets his jaw, then reaches down to clip the leash to Rufus’s collar. “Anyway, that’s why you’re keeping this guy.”
“I don’t want a dog, Theo!” I grab a throw pillow off the couch and launch it at him.
Theo dodges, but when he straightens, his eyes soften. “Just give it a month, okay? If you really still don’t want him then, I’ll figure something out. But can we just . . .”
He doesn’t finish, but from his tone, I can guess what he didn’t say. Can we do this for Kyle? I press my lips together, not sure I have this in me after everything my ex put me through.
The dog whines again. I glance at him, and when he cocks his head, Drew Forbes’s words echo through my mind: You’re the reason my brother killed himself.
I swallow hard, blinking at Rufus through a sheen of tears. He might’ve meant a lot to Kyle Forbes, but clearly he didn’t make him any happier than I did.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with a Belgian Malinois,” I mutter. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to give him to Kyle's asshole brother.”
After Theo heads out to walk the dog, I put my back to the enormous kennel by the bed, trying to focus on the other two-thirds of the apartment: the green midcentury couch and throw pillows I love, the cute coffee table and vintage barstools I sourced at a yard sale.
I spend a minute imagining my life and home as they were yesterday—exactly the way I wanted them.
But my apartment already smells like dog. There’s fur on my couch. Drool on my jeans. And a giant lump in my throat. It doesn’t seem fair. I’ve been doing my best to move on for the last two years, rebuilding my life alone. But Kyle gets to haunt me with his dog, and I can’t even ask why.
I curl my hands into fists and close my eyes, but as soon as I do, he’s there.
Handsome and smiling, whispering how much he loves me.
When I open them again, my vision blurs.
I reach for my laptop. I can barely see the screen through a sheen of tears, but still manage to pound out an email and send it into the ether.
Friday, March 12, 20__, 10:12 PM
To: Kyle.Forbes@
From: Caprice_Phipps@
Subject: Re: no subject
Dear Kyle,
Why is it you get to destroy yourself and keep destroying my life? A dog, really? What made you think any of this was a good idea? Did you even know me?
C
I don’t really feel better once it’s sent, but at least I feel like I did something. Then my phone chimes with a text.
Lydia
Hey! No rush on the car. Are you back? What was it for?
You won’t believe me until I show you.
Do you have some time in the morning?
Lydia
Yeah, Henry and I don’t need to be back at PetExpo until ten.
Damn, I almost forgot PetExpo. I get up and set my laptop on the counter, opening a new document along with my notes to write up the article for Randall.
I already know what it’s going to say. I’ll open with a glowing description of the expo as seen through Lydia’s eyes—the dog and cat wonderland of her dreams. Then I’ll highlight some of the businesses, give generous exposure to The Pooch Park, while never even alluding to the dog trainer from the black lagoon.
Perfect. Pick you up at eight.
Lydia
On a Saturday??
Trust me when I say this is an emergency. I’ll buy donuts.
Lydia
You hate donuts, Caprice. What is going on?