Chapter Seventeen
I knew I heard a dog earlier today.
I’m so eager to get to it, I misjudge one of the steps on the RV and stumble to the ground, landing hard on my knees. I sit up quickly on my haunches and check my cane over with my hands, thankful I didn’t damage it in the fall. Then something bumps into me.
Woof!
Reaching out, I find matted fur on what’s definitely a dog. It’s so much smaller than Mage or Spirit, but still probably weighs nearly as much as I do.
“Hello,” I croon, scratching behind the dog’s ears when I find them. “Aren’t you a sweet little baby?”
The dog licks at my face and yips. He jumps and puts his paws on my shoulders, nearly knocking me over.
“Down,” a voice barks, a lot more vicious than the dog. “Down. Now.”
Woof!
The dog grunts and then slides off. Its tail whips me as it rushes over to Rowdy. The licking continues over there.
“You’re disgusting,” Rowdy complains. “What have you been eating? There’s blood all over you.”
Panic surges up inside me. “Is it hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” he says. “It’s likely whoever was on the receiving end was the one that got hurt. And, judging by the balls on this thing, it’s a boy.”
My dog’s a he.
I grin at Rowdy. “We have to keep him. He’s probably lonely and starving and cold.”
“We don’t even know what kind of dog he is.”
Pulling out my phone, I hold it out in the general direction of the licking sound and instruct it to take a picture. Then I ask my phone to determine what type it is. Within seconds, I have my answer. “This appears to be an Australian Shepherd and Labrador Retriever mix.”
Before I can ask my phone to give me details about those breeds, he’s back in my face, giving me slobbery kisses.
“You’re such a good boy,” I praise, kissing his filthy fur. “Just doing what you had to in order to survive out there. But then you found us. You’re a good little scout.”
The dog barks happily.
“You like that? Want to be called Scout?”
He makes a cute howling sound and then licks my face again. I love him already.
“He needs a bath,” Rowdy says, much closer than before. “You think Aunt Eve will let this dirty thing in her house?”
She will.
How could she not?
Scout is so sweet and loving.
I rise to my feet and position my cane. “Come on, Scout. We’re going to clean you up and get some food.”
He barks again and walks beside me, his side brushing against my leg. I’m worried he might get whacked in the face with my cane, but he appears to know just how far back he needs to stay.
“How do you know which way to go?” Rowdy asks, voice so close behind me it makes me jump.
“I’ve memorized the distance from the cabin to the RV. Plus, you won’t let me walk off into the woods.”
He grunts in agreement. I’m pleased when the end of my cane taps against wood.
Since the sound is hollow and familiar, I know I’ve made it to the porch steps.
Scout, rather than bounding up the steps, takes one at a time with me.
My heart hammers happily. Gwen spoke of service animals.
Maybe Scout could be mine. I can’t wait to tell her about finding him.
The cabin door opens and Wild starts laughing. “Did you find Cujo? That dog looks rabid. Dad will flip his shit if you bring a stray dog inside.”
Ronan read me the Stephen King novel, Cujo, when I was too young and it gave me nightmares for weeks. My dog is a good boy, though, and nothing like that monster. “His name is Scout. We’re going to take him straight to the bath.”
“Your funeral,” Wild says, still chuckling. “Well, come in. You’re letting all the heat out.”
I use my cane to help me through the door and then navigate through the living room. It smells like something garlicky cooking. My stomach grumbles, reminding me I left my candy in the RV. A new dog trumps leftover candy.
“Come on, Scout,” I tell him. “We’re going to get you nice and clean.”
He barks in agreement.
“Doggie,” one of the twins cries out. “Momma, look.”
There’s chaos among their family, but I let them sort it out on their own. I take my dog to the bathroom and start the bath for it. It takes a second to find the plug to stop the water, but soon it’s filling with warm water.
“That stick really helps you, huh?” Rowdy asks, so close his breath tickles my hair. “You can move around quickly with it.”
For someone who was so upset earlier about it, he’s changed his tune. It warms my heart. I flash a wide grin his way over my shoulder and nod. “I feel like I keep unlocking parts of my life. It’s exciting.”
Scout bumps into me and Rowdy’s hand grips my waist, steadying me. Heat tickles down my spine. The dog showing up was a distraction from earlier, but I’m suddenly reminded.
I think I wanted him to kiss me.
The skin on my face burns hot with shame.
I’m not sure what’s going on with Rowdy, but it feels like he isn’t just possessive, but like he wants to possess me.
When he’d had my hair in his grip and his breath panting near my lips, I was sure he was going to make a move.
Intentionally this time. The sleepover touching the other night was an accident.
I’d secretly ached for him to do something on purpose.
Shameful, shameful girl.
“Go eat,” Aunt Eve barks from the doorway to the bathroom. “Go, Rowdy.”
He squeezes my hip and then releases me. “This bathroom is too small anyway. You got this, Aunt Eve?”
“Do the dishes after,” she clips out. “Go.”
As soon as Rowdy leaves, Aunt Eve pushes past me. I hear a cap open and then a soapy scent permeates the air. Then I hear splashing sounds.
“Get in, dog,” she instructs. “Come on.”
Scout barks at her and then a bigger splash resounds. Is she in the tub with him?
“In the cabinet below the sink are towels,” she says to me. “Grab a few and be ready for when I finish up with him.”
I do as I’m told and listen to Aunt Eve splash around with the dog. Scout whines at one point and she tells him to “man up.”
“What does he look like?” I ask, eager to know more about Scout.
“A dog.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
“I run a bar of soap over tongues when my kids do that,” Aunt Eve says, amusement in her voice. “The white parts of his fur near his mouth are stained with blood. I’m going to trim most of it off when we get out.”
“He’s a white dog?”
“All colors. You don’t know colors, though, do you?”
“I know what they mean, but I can’t remember what they look like. It’s dark these days for me.”
“He’s black and white spotted on his back. His chest is white and his underbelly and legs are copper. His feet and snout are white. The most unusual thing about him is his two different-colored eyes. One’s blue and one’s brown.”
I like that his eyes are different. Like mine.
“He’s beautiful,” I say happily.
She snorts. “He’s dirty and goofy.”
“My baby.”
As soon as I say the words, my smile falters.
I’m reminded of my actual baby. The poor, innocent little thing that died before it had a chance to live.
Did I want to be kidnapped and raped? No.
Did I want to get pregnant from the man who raped me?
Also no. But I was pregnant and all I wanted was to care for that sweet baby, needing desperately for some good to come from an awful situation.
I lost it, though.
And I’ve been dead inside since.
Until we came up here to stay. Because of the school, Weston and Gwen, my walking cane, and now Scout, things are looking up.
“I lost so many,” Aunt Eve says in a rare show of vulnerability. “Each time was excruciatingly painful. Like someone carved a hole out of my heart. There are so many holes in my heart. It never stops hurting.”
Tears form in my eyes and I try to blink them away. I’m unable to and let out a soft sob. This has Scout whimpering with worry.
“Hush now,” she tells him. “She’s fine.”
I laugh through my tears. “Are you mean to everyone, Aunt Eve?”
“Yes.” The water splashes some more and then she says, “I know your sadness, Destiny.”
My stomach flips at her words.
“Not all my losses were after I was with Atticus. Many were from before. When I was younger than you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I love them all…” she trails off, voice cracking. “Even though my brothers and father hurt me to get me pregnant.”
I knew she’d lost babies, but I didn’t know this part. “You had sex with them?”
She’s silent for a beat and then says, “They raped me. That’s the word my husband uses for it. Like the bad people did to you. My family was very, very bad.”
It makes me wonder if it was violent like Ronan’s or soft, sweet, and gentle like mine. They’re all awful in their own way. I’m grateful for the night Rowdy cut into our tent and then into the flesh of my rapist all to save me.
He was my hero that night.
Still is.
“I see how Rowdy looks at you. My older brothers had the same hungry glint in their eyes.”
I’m jolted from my memories of my savior. Jerking my head her way, I gape at her. “What? Rowdy’s not like them. He saved me.”
“Lay a towel on the floor,” she says tersely. “I don’t want water everywhere.”
I obey her and then shift on my feet, waiting for her to elaborate on why she thinks this. Finally, unable to take it a second longer, I hiss out, “Aunt Eve. You know he’s not like them, right?”
She’s suspicious. Always has been.
Rowdy’s a good guy. The best. He’s the kind of man who drops his safety, his family, his home, and even his dog to take care of someone in need. I know he’d go to the ends of the earth for me.
So why do I have to keep defending him with everyone?
Unease settles in my gut. Especially since she refuses to answer me. I’m upset at her words, but I’m also angry. It burns hot inside my chest. I want to yell at her and tell her my life isn’t her life. We’re not the same.
“Out, Scout,” she orders in a rough tone.
There is splashing and then the dog shakes, shooting water everywhere. He’s cute, but I can’t even enjoy him because Aunt Eve has shaken the very foundation of my life.
Rowdy’s no monster.
He’s my protective big brother.
Safe and secure.
I love him.
Squatting down, I towel dry my dog, trying desperately to drive all the negative thoughts in my head out. I don’t want to think about Jace or the loss of my baby. I certainly don’t want to think of Aunt Eve’s brothers raping her and how she thinks Rowdy might be like them. It’s too much.
“Keep him still. I’m going to trim his hair,” Aunt Eve says. “If he wiggles, I might accidentally snip off his ear.”
Scout whines as if he understands. I kiss the top of his head to reassure him he’s safe.
It takes a few minutes, but she finally finishes up with his haircut. Before I can bolt from the tiny bathroom, she stops me by saying my name.
I pause, angling my head to her. Will she apologize for being out of line? For unfairly lumping my brother into the same category as hers?
“Be careful.”
No apologies. Just a command.
She wants me to be afraid of my brother like she was with hers.
Not happening.