Bonus Chapter
“This dang thing.” I press the volume on the remote, but it doesn’t go down. The bedazzled jewel on it is getting in the way.
“Hey, you sound like me!” Micah grins. “Really cussing like a sailor there. Gonna have to watch your language around the children.” He gives a meaningful glance at Princess and Minky.
“Sorry,” I roll my eyes. “Sorry, Princess. Minky.” The animals ignore me as I finally get the TV to register the remote, and I put the glittery thing down.
I may have let slip that I hated “ugly ass remotes,” so Micah bedazzled ours.
It doesn’t work as well anymore. I’m pretty sure glue got inside the thing, but it still makes me smile.
My phone goes off, and I pick it up. It’s Chloe. Recently, I’ve been in contact with my siblings just to check on them. They’re doing well; all of them are out of my parents’ house, and that makes me smile.
Chloe: I mean, you don’t have to come. I just figured you’d want to see Bandit.
I frown. She’s going to see my parents next week, which is more than they deserve. But who’s Bandit?
Chloe: She’s super smart; I think you’d like her.
Did my parents get another pet? My stomach sinks. I’m sure they never stopped getting pets, but after a few knock-down, drag-out fights when I first left, including me calling animal control on them, I stopped talking to them. It was too painful.
A picture comes through, and I open it. It’s my sister smiling with a…raccoon? The raccoon in her arms looks like it’s mid-escape attempt. In the background is my parents’ messy house.
A…fucking raccoon?
My stomach turns like I ate something bad. Exotic vets are expensive. I know what’ll happen to that animal the second it gets sick. What always happens with them–either it gets turned loose outside, or it dies in a cage with nothing to ease its suffering.
“Mads?” Micah’s voice is soft. He waits till I glance over at him before slipping his hand onto my thigh and squeezing. “You okay?”
“I uh…” The shock is turning to anger. “My parents got a raccoon.”
Micah’s eyebrows shoot up. He now knows about Nippy. He knows how they are with animals. How I don’t talk to them because of it. Fuck what they did to me; the animals are more unforgivable.
Familiar anger rolls through me, the heat followed by a tight feeling that makes me want to scratch out of my body. Makes me feel trapped. After some time in therapy, I’ve come to realize this feeling is helplessness, and I hate it. Nothing makes me spiral more than helplessness.
I stand. I need to get this energy out somehow. Need to…do something.
I hate them. I hate them. That animal is going to suffer! And for what? Because they wanted a cool animal?
“Okay, baby, it’s okay.” Micah also stands, disturbing Princess at the end of the couch. “I love you. How can I help?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Nothing will help. Getting that animal away from them is the only thing that will help.”
“I’ll be right back,” Micah says.
I stare after him, momentarily surprised. Micah always asks me if I want him to stay or leave when I’m struggling. And now he’s just…dipping? Without even asking?
For a second, I’m pissed, and then the sadness rolls in right after. What if I didn’t want Micah to leave?
I suck in breath after breath. I can do this. I can handle this anxiety. At least, my therapist says I can. I need to regulate. Tap on my chest or some shit. Maybe take another pill.
The raccoon is going to suffer.
Princess and Minky are now awake and moving.
Minky is at the foot of the couch right under Princess, because he knows if he dares cuddle with Princess, that Princess will thwap him with his paws until he submits.
Both of them give me disgruntled looks. I interrupted their evening naptime. Spoiled, happy brats, both of them.
Like they deserve. Like every animal deserves.
I pace. I have to do something! Like, call my parents and demand they…return it? What if they grabbed it from outside? Call animal control on them?
My therapist says to focus on the little things I can control. So I turn and start pacing. I can control that. The speed of my footsteps.
Micah pops back into the doorway, and he’s holding…clothes?
“Hey, so I had an idea, but you have to bear with me.” He comes to the couch and spreads out what I now see are two shirts. On them, he’s drawn something. It looks like…black glasses? On the tops are written “cat burglar.”
“Okay, listen.” He holds his hands up. “We have a place for it, and like, it would be much better off with us.”
I stare at him. He’s talking about the raccoon? “My parents aren’t going to just give it over.”
“Right, uh.” Micah glances at the shirts that I now realize are a drawing of the black around a raccoon’s eyes. “That’s why we’re going to take him or her.”
I blink.
“Hear me out, hear me out! It’ll be easy. We’ll leave the back door open or something, so they’ll think it escaped. Win-win for everyone. I can ask–”
Micah keeps talking, but I’m staring at him.
Is he suggesting we steal from my parents?
That’s gonna be hard, logistically speaking.
I don’t care that it’s a crime. I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that I’ve done some things that many people might not agree with.
Arthur’s death has been a complicated one for me.
Sometimes I feel immense guilt and wish I could go back and change everything.
Wish I hadn’t aggravated him with that text that made him break in.
And other times–more often than not now–I realize that he made his own choices and I didn’t make him do anything, including what he did to me during our relationship.
It’s freeing, in a massive, relieving way that I never thought I’d get to experience.
Micah is texting someone, and I ask, “What are you doing?”
“Sweet, he has them!” Micah glances up at me, and I stare at him.
“Has what?”
“A lock-picking set!”
“Who?”
Micah cocks his head at me. “Ronan.”
Oh great. Ronan. He stops by often to see Princess and Minky, and other than the fact he’s part of a fucking murder squad, he’s also chronically bored. Which means he’s chronically fucking annoying.
Micah sees the look on my face. “Hey, we don’t have to…you know?”
Don’t have to what? Save an innocent animal? I look at the love of my life next to the dumb shirts with such an…adoring look in his eyes.
I straighten, then hold my hand out for Micah to grab. This is kinda our thing. Saving things. Together. We’ll be safe. We’ll always be safe. He’ll keep me safe, and I’ll keep the raccoon safe.
It’s what we do.
Turns out we suck at picking locks.
Like, really suck.
“Fudge, it keeps slipping,” Micah whispers. We’re crouched outside the back door in the darkness. Ronan gave us the lock-picking kit, which just looked like a bunch of thin dentist tools. He asked if we needed help, which I declined. The fewer people involved in this crime, the better.
My hands are sweaty, and I wring them. How hard can it be? They do it in movies all the time. We just need to get this open, find Bandit, then get the fuck out.
“Flipping fluffer…nut on my balls.”
“Shhhh.” I glance around. Dad should be at work, but I suspect Mom is inside sleeping.
“It keeps slipping!”
I wipe my hands on my pants. We can’t fail now. Something has to give.
“Let me try.” I take over, then suddenly, there’s a loud crash from the front of the house. It’s like an explosion.
I jump straight in the air, then snatch Micah’s hand and start running, bolting back to the car. They found us! We’re caught; this is all over. I don’t even feel my legs running; we’re just flying. I have to keep Micah safe. I can’t let us get caught.
When we reach the car, I scramble for the keys.
“What was that?” Micah gasps.
I have no idea. I glance back at the house. I shouldn’t have put him in danger. Why did I do that?
Then, from around the corner of the house, I spot a man jogging our way. Holy shit, was Dad home?
I get the keys in the door and unlock it for Micah. Get in, get in, get in. I’m moving in slow motion like I’m in a dream. Once I’m inside, I glance over.
Micah isn’t in the car yet. I look to see that he’s…waiting for the man? He stands there with his hand on his hip.
I’m out of the car and rounding it to put myself between Dad and Micah when I see…not my dad. It’s…Ronan. With a bundle of fur under his arm.
I still step in front of Micah.
“Hey, fuckers!” Ronan grins. “You were taking so long, I figured I’d just do it for you.”
I stare at him, then look behind him. The alleyway is dark and quiet. What the hell?
Ronan gets all the way up to us, and his eyes look alive, even in the dark. He’s grinning from ear to ear. “Sucker keeps trying to bite me.” He looks down at the raccoon, who is indeed still fighting. “It’s okay, sweet thing, we’re not gonna hurt you.”
I’m still in shock. “What did you–How… Why are you here?”
“You know, I’m all for small talk, but maybe we do it on the way away from the crime scene?” Ronan stalks up to my car and clambers into the back seat.
Right. Okay. Because I left it unlocked.
Turning, I check Micah over. He seems unharmed, although I didn’t realize he brought his gun. To my parents’ house? I’m simultaneously pissed and proud.
“I swear I didn’t invite him,” Micah says.
“Did you tell him where we were going?”
“No!”
There’s a sound in the alleyway, and I shove Micah into the passenger seat, then run around to the front, peeling away from the house.
Ronan is making little cooing noises in the back seat. The cooing is accompanied by hissing and spitting from Bandit.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss.
“Shouldn’t have brought a gun,” Ronan says. “You take a regular ol’ felony into a big boy felony. Dumbasses should have asked for my help.”
“Your help? What did you do? Are my parents okay?” My mind runs wild. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Oh, stop your bellyaching. I just opened the door with my foot, scooped up this little guy, and headed out. Pamela is fine.”
Pamela. He knows her name? Alarm bells start ringing in my head, and I glance back at Ronan.
He rolls his eyes. “Brother, you think I don’t know every single thing about you guys, from your favorite color to your second cousin twice removed?
Logan is too paranoid for that shit. C’mon now, get with the program–OW HEY! ”
I glance over at Micah, who’s…grinning?
“Don’t BITE me!”
Micah smiles, watching Ronan get attacked. He glances over at me, grabbing my thigh and squeezing. “We did it!”
What? This whole thing has been a train wreck. Why is he smiling?
Ronan waves at us. “Why didn’t I get a shirt?”
“What if someone saw you?” I hiss, still enraged. He ruined everything!
“Your parents don’t have cameras. Plus, I wore a mask. But I woulda looked cooler with a matching shirt.”
“How did you get here?” Are Logan and Dakota here too? Why didn’t I notice him following us?
“What is this, an interrogation? I thought you’d be happy I saved your asses from getting caught and tossed in–OWE! Get off me!”
I briefly glance back to see Bandit has attached her teeth to his arm.
It takes me a hot second to accept the fact that nothing bad has happened to my man, that we got Bandit safely, and that, I fucking hate to say it, Ronan pulled us a solid. Micah and I can’t be implicated in shit. And if we are, we have a…professional to help us through.
Although we’d better burn the shirts.
I relax incrementally in my seat. Micah is laughing at something Ronan said, and Bandit is after him for blood, chasing him from window to window in the back seat.
“You’re insane,” Ronan holds a hand out to keep Bandit away. “Ember would love you. You want to come home with me?”
Bandit stands up on both hind legs, staring Ronan down like she’s going to box him.
“Cool, I take that as a yes!”
“She’s coming home with us,” Micah says.
Ronan pouts.
I focus on driving again because we’re safe. Everyone is safe, and if something pops up, I know we can handle it. My weird little family with our weird…aggressive friends.
Now we just need to make sure Ronan doesn’t steal our raccoon.