Chapter 15
He had it coming—he had it coming for a long time, and landing those blows felt so fucking satisfying. As soon as he insinuated there was anything “sloppy” about Kelly, it was over for him.
However, the response from her, or lack thereof, has not been ideal. I pull my phone out of my pocket and reread the text thread between us.
You okay?
I can tell you’re mad.
Kelly
I think it’s best if we put some distance between us right now. I need time to think.
About Jason?
Kelly
It’s not your business.
When I help you pick up the pieces after your breakups, you make it my business.
Kelly
Fine, then let’s talk about it. Why don’t you tell me why you got into a fight with Jason?
There are a million things I want to tell her, but I don’t know how to say any of them. Not over text.
Kelly
Typical.
Stop acting like you’re some innocent bystander in this. You want to be involved less? Give me the space I’m asking for.
I grit my teeth. That was last Tuesday, a week ago—a whole goddamn week—and she has barely said two words to me since.
I’ve practically been rocking in my seat with all the shit that’s been piling up in my head for the last seven days.
I’d grab a drink, but there isn’t enough bourbon in the world strong enough to soothe the choke hold that anxiety has on me.
Even at work, her answers are short and clipped.
She keeps her head down. It’s so unlike Kelly, and her behavior scares me—it’s unnerving.
A few days ago, she went into the attic, and it took everything in me to stay put.
I always help her with Clyde’s stuff. How long does she need to think?
With my phone shoved back in my pocket, I try to focus on the book in front of me.
I’ll be making up my days off today and tomorrow since I did some commission pieces on Sunday and Monday, and I’m trying to relax like a normal person even though I want to crawl out of my skin.
After a few sentences, my mind wanders and I have to start over again.
Maybe I should go into the shop . . . However, knowing our friendship is on the rocks has me distracted, and I can’t sit still. I close the hardcover and toss it beside me on the sofa. The same one she was arching her back on during our photo shoot.
I don’t expect her to be ready to jump into a new relationship overnight, even though that would make my life a lot easier.
She thinks she has a choice in the matter, which is by design, but the truth is, I’m the only outcome.
When it comes to me, there’s no escape clause and no expiration date. When we do this, it’s permanent.
I crave her smile. The way it melts my s tress away.
I could use it now. She’s been so distant, it’s never been like this between us.
I need to do something to get her back on track.
Remind her why we’re good together. My foot bounces as I rack my brain.
I need something that will bust down her walls . . . There is one thing.
I pull out my phone again and open the search engine, hoping I’ll find what I’m looking for.
After making a few calls yesterday, I hit the jackpot. At least I think I did. This morning, I woke up at three o’clock a.m., packed up my truck, and drove seven hours to South Dakota, all the way to the April Valley Rescue.
After turning into the parking lot, I get out and stretch my arms over my head, leaning to the left and right until I hear the satisfying crack from my spine. Better.
Right on time. I wasn’t taking any chances.
Inside, I’m greeted by a friendly staff member with short brown hair and a buffalo plaid vest. She’s probably who I’m looking for.
“Are you Carol?” I ask.
“Yes, I am!” she says brightly.
I extend my hand across the desk. “Hi. I’m Logan. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”
“Logan! Yes, right! We received your application, and everything looks great.” She rounds the front desk, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the little guy you were interested in.”
Raising an eyebrow, I fall in step behind her, and she leads me through a heavy metal door into a larger room filled with kennels.
Each one appears to be six feet by ten feet, separated with blue walls that are about six feet tall, and chain-link doors.
Barks echo off the walls as she guides me to the dog.
There’s one in particular I’m interested in, but I have no idea how dog adoptions work.
From what I hear, you’re supposed to just know, whatever the hell that means.
We pass by a Chihuahua, and he stands on his hind legs and rests his miniature paws on the chain link, yipping at me. Is it normal for it to shake like that?
I follow her down another row of kennels and she pauses, unlocking one of the doors and waving me in with an open palm.
“Here we are! I’ll let you two get acquainted, take as much time as you like.
If you think he’s a good match and you’re still interested in adoption, come find me at the front desk and we’ll finish your paperwork.
If not, let me know if there’re any other dogs you would like to meet, and we can set that up. ”
I nod, and enter the kennel with the beast. Holy shit. “That’s for sure a dog, right?” I ask, unwilling to risk taking my eyes off it.
She chuckles. “Yes.”
“Okay . . . just making sure. Thanks.”
Carol leaves us be, and I study him with my hands on my hips.
He doesn’t bother to greet me, just lies there with his chin pressed to the cold concrete. He tracks my movements as I step closer and crouch in front of him. We lock eyes, staring each other down. Interesting.
“Sorry, I had to ask,” I say, apologizing to him.
He looks more wolf than dog and is the size of a small horse.
Thick black fur covers his body, except for around his muzzle, which is more gray, and the parts of his jaw that are patched with white.
He’s charming in a might-rip-out-my-spine kinda way.
Carol said he was a stray and they weren’t sure of his age but estimated him to be around five years old. She didn’t know his breed either, but if I had to take a stab at it, I’d say he’s a cross between a Great Dane and a werewolf. Apparently, he’s been here for over a year.
“So . . .”
He glances away from me, I take a look at the sign on the wall.
Name: Dogmeat.
I shake my head. “Christ, that’s the worst name I’ve ever heard. And I know an Alaskan shepherd named Chicken Salad.”
He blinks slowly, like he’s offended.
“Yeah, I’d be pissed too. Your PR team did you dirty, man.”
The big guy huffs out a breath at the same time I do. His ears twitch, and he looks at me again.
“You’re right, you don’t exactly scream ‘emotional support animal,’” I muse. “Nothing says calm like a hundred-pound hellhound in row eight . . . Lucky for you, that’s okay.”
The dog raises an eyebrow at me, then lowers it again, like he’s given up on everyone.
“Dude, if I bring you home . . . you gotta be cool, all right? You can’t be terrorizing the neighborhood, or dragging dead cats and shit into my place.”
He lifts his chin weakly from the ground, and I offer a few scratches and pets. His coarse fur is much softer than it looks.
“My house isn’t huge, but there’s a dog park across the street.” I scan his kennel. “You’ll have a hell of a lot more room than you do here.”
His tail begins slapping the gray unforgiving floor.
“And I’m not calling you Dogmeat. You’re not a walking joke, that bullshit stays here.”
He stands to his full height and I blink.
“Goddamn, you’re massive.” I shake my head. “Just when I thought you couldn’t appear any bigger.” I’m not crouched all the way down, yet I find myself looking up to meet his vacant stare. He’s easily over a hundred and fifty pounds.
His gaze burrows into mine, but there’s an emptiness in his eyes, like he’s given up hope. I recognize that kind of surrender. He’s been to hell and back.
This is my dog.
After forty-five minutes of paperwork with Carol, I’m walking out the door with a new dog.
My truck jerks when he hops up into the cab, giving my suspension a run for its money.
With the way his tongue is lolled out of his mouth, it almost looks like he’s smiling.
This started because of Kelly, but maybe this will be good for me too.
Kelly has always said I should adopt a dog.
“Wanna get something to eat?”
His tail thumps.
“Yeah, me too. I’m fuckin’ starving.”
Before we get on the highway, I swing through the drive-thru of a fast-food joint and order four burgers—two for each of us—a cup of water, and a shake.
When we park to eat, I expect him to snarf them down in a single gulp, but he eats at a respectable pace, almost like he’s savoring every bite.
I’m well aware this is bad for him, but damn, poor guy has been in jail for a year.
“I’ve tattooed a few guys who’ve been in prison,” I tell him, swallowing. “One of them told me that the second thing he did when he was released was get a burger.”
The dog looks at me with raised eyebrows, ears twitching.
“The first thing? The first thing he did was blow out his girlfriend’s back. I don’t know who your girlfriend is, but I hope you enjoy these bail burgers as a consolation.”
I finish my first burger and crumple up the wrapper, tossing it in the brown bag.
Then I unwrap the second one and hold it out for him.
He takes it from me, biting it clumsily.
The bottom part of the bun drops onto the seat, but he manages to finish the rest of it before dipping his head to gobble up the remainder.
“Thirsty?” Gingerly, I remove the lid from the paper cup filled with water. My new buddy leans down and slurps up a few gulps, then sits up straight. Water drips from his muzzle when he pants.
“Life is good on the outside, huh?” I take another bite of my burger and shift into gear. “Ready to roll?”
With us back on the highway, he smears his snot all over the passenger glass as he watches the world pass by.
“Aw, come on, man.” I lower the window, and he thrusts his giant head into the fresh air, letting his tongue flap in the wind.
The corner of my mouth turns up in a smirk.
He needs a name, but I might leave that to Kelly.
“Tomorrow is going to be a little weird . . .” He’s not listening to me, far too interested in the cornfields. “I’m going to need you to play along. You’re just gonna have to trust me. At first you’re gonna think I’m a huge asshole, but I promise it’s not what you think it is.”
The big brute pulls his head back in and faces me. Oh, now he wants to listen. I roll up the window. We’ve got six and a half hours to kill before we get home.
“So, there’s this girl . . .”