Chapter 47
“MOONLIGHT SERENADE” BY FRANK SINATRA
The light from Quinntessa’s phone lit up the room every few minutes.
Her father had texted her an hour ago, around the time my grandfather confirmed Bernard had been found.
I knew Sebastian would never say anything to his daughter, but it still aggravated me that he was intruding on our spontaneous sleepover in the littlest ways.
It had been three hours since Quinntessa fell asleep. I remained awake to play dark angel and guard her from the horrors of the night. Her head laid on my chest, her hand accidentally slipping under the shirt she let me borrow.
Occasionally, Quinntessa whimpered in her sleep. I held her close and made sure I was awake when she needed me. When she cried for her mother in her sleep, haunted by that same awful nightmare of the car crash, I kissed her head and whispered sweet things to her.
“You’re safe, sweet girl,” I mumbled against her temple. “No one can touch you when you’re with me.”
My nostrils flared as I drowned in her perfume. Her freshly-washed curls were messily thrown everywhere around us. I closed my eyes. My lips delicately trailed over the many freckles that kissed her skin.
No one could touch her. No one could hurt her. I wouldn’t let them hurt her.
My fingers slid into her hair and pulled her close, cradling her head close to me. I smiled against her face when her fingers fidgeted with my shirt. Her touch was poisonous to me. I was falling ill to her control the longer I laid here. And she had no idea.
“Take my sanity, baby.” I nuzzled the side of her face. “Take it all.”
I’d never believed in magic. Never once in my life had my father allowed me to believe in the supernatural. If he didn’t have that much power, no one else could.
Narcissistic cunty cutlet fucker.
Today, if I had to explain an example of pure magic, it would be Amanda’s honest work with dogs. Scrabble had been here a few weeks now. He’d been on a tight training schedule with very little freedom, no boundaries present.
And I could honestly say Quinntessa would sob if she had seen him today, working around other dogs during group drills with the boarding babes.
“What are you doing?” Amanda asked as she walked into the employee break room.
I looked up from my paintbrush and paused.
“Painting Scrabble’s new muzzle?” I winced when she sent me a look. “His mom?—”
“You need to stop torturing that poor girl.” Amanda walked past me and grabbed her take out with a shake of her head. “She’s calling ten times a day to check on Scrabble. Have you considered how much her anxiety feeds into his?”
“That’s her best friend?—”
“Well, her best friend is a nervous wreck.” She paused by the door and looked down at the pink paint along the muzzle’s plastic. “Wash that off. Order a custom one if you want to get him something. That brand is toxic.”
I leaned back quickly.
“What? Estelle uses this!” I gasped.
“For dogs, dummy.” She grabbed a clicker from the basket near the door and lightly hit me in the head with it. “Stop sleeping with my customers!”
“I’m not sleeping with her!” I shouted after her.
Sitting back in my chair, I looked down at the half painted pink muzzle and groaned with disdain.