Chapter 1
Chapter One
“ A ll clean!” Avery shouted as she danced through the swinging door to the back of the shelter. She stopped but continued to swivel her hips to music that Riley could only hear faintly through Avery’s earbuds.
Riley grinned and stopped her work to admire her volunteer for a moment. “Not a smear of poop left, huh?”
Avery smiled wider. “You know it!” She stopped jumping around and pointed a finger at Riley. “Don’t you dare put a dog or cat back in those kennels. That’ll ruin all my hard work.”
Riley put a hand on her chest. “I’d never even consider it.”
“Liar,” Avery teased, her hips beginning to swing again. “They’ll be just as gross by the end of the week as they were today.”
Riley shrugged. “Such is life I suppose.”
“Ooh, philosophical.” Avery winked. “I like it.” She began dancing her way toward the front door. “I’ll be back!” she hollered as she pushed the door open. “Next week, like always.” Just before she was fully gone, Avery ducked her head back in. “Good thing this looks good on my college resume, or I’d quit without looking back.”
Riley waved. “Love you too! Have a good week!” Riley’s smile remained on her face as she watched Avery jump into her beat-up sedan and drive away.
It wasn’t until the quiet of the shelter began to feel eerie that Riley kicked herself back into action. “It’s never supposed to be quiet in an animal shelter,” she whispered to herself.
Leaving behind the pile of canned food she’d been restocking, she headed for the backyard, intending to put the animals away for the night so she could go home and get dinner.
The hinge squeaked on the large metal door as Riley swung it open, easily finding the noise that she’d been missing only moments before. Barking, yelping and playful growls came from every corner of the yard, and it made Riley smile.
This was her life.
Cleaning up after strays and abandoned pets who only needed a little love, and a bath when they arrived at the shelter.
Right now they had nearly a dozen dogs and that was pushing it for their small town. The kennels were full and Riley kept praying that no one would leave a box of unwanted puppies lying around in any fields because she’d have to move some of her animals and that meant sending them to larger shelters which used other methods of dealing with the overpopulation of pets.
Seagull Cove was a small town and they didn’t usually run into too much trouble with pets, but once in a while, there would be a random burst of incoming animals and Riley would be stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Hey, sweetie.” Riley squatted down to rub behind Griffin’s ears. He closed his dark eyes and tilted his head to give her better access, causing Riley to chuckle. She sighed. “One of these days, I’m either going to lose you, or I’ll get brave enough to face our resident beast.”
Speaking of beasts, Riley looked up just in time to brace herself before being plowed over by a seventy-pound mutt who was convinced he was a lap dog.
“Down, Sugar! Down!” Riley pushed the large animal off of her and stood, brushing off her pants. “We’ve really got to work on that,” she told the dog as he panted happily at her. “You’d make a great family dog, if I could guarantee them you wouldn’t maul any small children.”
Sugar barked, the sound heavy and deep.
Riley winced. “Yeah…we should work on that too.” She ruffled Sugar’s moppy head and tilted her own toward the door. “Come on, everyone. Dinner!”
The usual obedience level of the dogs ranged from “never heard of it” to “I obey every twitch of your finger,” but no one, no one, missed dinner.
Riley held open the door, counting dogs as they ran inside, stepping on her toes and bringing mud into Avery’s freshly cleaned kennel area. When the chaos was over, Riley smiled down at Griffin, who sat tall next to the door, waiting for his next command. “Such a good boy,” Riley whispered, smiling sadly. “Come. Dinner.”
She waved him inside, walking so the dog would follow. Griffin’s training had gone so well. He’d come to the shelter as a tiny puppy, half starved and scared to death, but the soulful look in his eyes had hit something in Riley’s heart and she’d decided to make him a project.
“Too bad the guy who’s supposed to be your owner doesn’t even know you exist,” Riley muttered as she watched Griffin step calmly into his kennel and begin to eat. Another sigh escaped as she rested her shoulder against the metal door post and looked around.
Antony Harrison was on her mind far too much these days.
Truth was, he’d been on her mind ever since he’d gotten home over a year ago, wounded and broken, just as his family was dealing with the illness of Antony’s father.
The tall, duty-driven and insanely attractive young man who had left Seagull Cove had come home barely alive, and Riley had felt the loss much deeper than expected.
Sure, as a teenager she’d had a crush on her best friend’s older brother. Didn’t everyone? But Riley had never truly considered that there could be more between her and Antony Harrison. Until she’d seen him after his operation.
He was sleeping, his face and arm scarred and his leg half gone and wrapped in heavy bandages.
Aspen had been crying, but trying not to wake anyone up, and Riley had reached her arms around Aspen and hugged her within an inch of her life. Somehow, seeing Antony so small compared to the larger-than-life figure he’d always been when they were younger, Riley found herself caught. She hadn’t been able to walk away.
It was the same feeling she’d gotten when she’d seen Griffin for the first time.
Every creature on earth needed affection and love.
Griffin had been denied it, but Riley had helped him and now the dog was thriving and was trained to be a helper for someone with disabilities. Someone just like Antony.
Antony, on the other hand, seemed to have a longer road ahead of him.
He’d been given love and family, but once his life had shifted, he’d turned into a terrified animal backed into a corner. Anger and bitterness were heavy pills that he seemed to swallow every day, and it made Riley’s heart hurt to think of how much pain he had to be in to react the way he did.
She’d talked to him, several times in fact, but his snarling and growling had eventually pushed her away, leaving Griffin at the shelter and Riley frustrated with her lack of progress.
Shaking her head, Riley pushed Antony out. He had no right to be there. He wasn’t one of her abandoned dogs that she could fix with a good meal and a bunch of ear scratching.
Antony was a grown man and though Riley didn’t agree with the path he’d chosen and her heart refused to let go of him completely, she had no responsibility to him. At all. Whatsoever. None. Nada.
“Let it go,” she scolded herself as she went through her nightly ritual of checking cage locks and putting away the dinner time supplies. “He’s not yours. He never will be.” Her eyes drifted to Griffin. “And he won’t want anything to do with Griffin. Just walk away.”
Now if she could just get her heart and head on the same page.
“Let me help you with that.”
Antony grit his teeth and stubbornly hung tighter to the plate he was attempting to wash and put in the dishwasher. His parents’ home wasn’t exactly handicap accessible, though they’d moved the furniture around so he could at least wheel from room to room. “No, Mom,” he said tightly. “I’ve got it.”
“It’s just?—”
Antony looked over his shoulder, pushing back the anger he was still battling. “I can do this,” he said in a low voice. “It’s just a set of dishes.”
Emery Harrison wrung her hands and nodded jerkily. “I know. Sorry. I—” She cut off, pinching her lips together.
The telltale sign of tears was in her eyes, and Antony hung his head. “Mom…” he began.
She held up her hand to stop him. “No. It’s alright. I’m just…too sensitive right now. Sorry,” she squeaked before spinning on her heel and darting out of the room.
Antony groaned and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling as if the off-white popcorn would have answers for him. What was he supposed to do? It would probably take years for his mom to stop crying at everything, and Antony didn’t blame her.
She’d lost her husband only a few months ago, and fall and the holidays were looming. The idea of having Christmas without Papa Tony was unimaginable. When he closed his eyes, Antony could still see his dad’s chocolate sculptures. Chocolate houses dusted with powdered sugar. Trees that had ornaments that had been dyed bright red, complete with gifts wrapped in fondant below the branches .
Papa Tony had been a giant of a man, and his absence would feel like a mockery.
When tears stung the back of Antony’s eyes, he cleared his throat and blinked them away. At least one of the adults in the house needed to stay in control, and heaven knew that Antony was barely holding it together most of the time, but he was trying.
For the thousandth time, he wondered about moving out, but he was so worried about his mom.
“Not that your presence is helping her,” Antony grumbled to himself as he leaned forward awkwardly to scrub a dirty bowl. From his seated position, could barely reach the water, and when he jerked forward to get some, it hit the wrong angle, splashing everywhere.
Growling, Antony almost threw down the bowl, but he stopped himself just in time. Broken porcelain would definitely not help the situation.
Pushing the anger back down again, he forced his hands to calmly finish the project. Dishes that should have taken him ten minutes had just become a thirty minute chore, and it was driving him insane.
He’d once fought an enemy halfway across the world and been trusted with other men’s lives. Now he could barely make it from his bed to the bathroom without falling flat on his face.
Throwing the dish towel he’d been using on the counter, Antony paused and huffed. He scratched at his chin, the week old stubble almost past the stiff and pokey stage. He really needed to shave. He also needed a haircut. What he lacked was the motivation to do either.
Shaving required him to balance on one leg and lean against the counter, which was tiring and awkward, and a haircut meant facing the staring eyes of every other person at the shop.
Yeah…neither of those were appealing, and Antony was quickly growing slow at incorporating them into his regular routine.
“What routine?” he grumbled, dropping his arms into his lap. His eyes fell down, landing on his skin. His left arm was smooth and light brown, a gift from his father’s Italian heritage. It was the same skin Antony had been looking at for his thirty-plus years of life.
His right hand, however, was a completely different man. At least it felt that way. The skin was puckered and mottled, a mix of shades that ranged from light to dark chocolate.
Antony snorted. “No one’s going to compare your skin to chocolate,” he reminded himself.
He flexed his hand, and the light ache he was becoming accustomed to was still present. Burned skin was no joke, and Antony had been told the pain might never truly go away. The pain followed the scar which ran all the way up his right arm and shoulder, climbed up his neck, and finally stopped after taking over only a few inches on his right cheek and temple.
Bone deep despair settled into Antony, another sensation he was becoming accustomed to.
When his leg and skin had been taken from him, so had his future, and now, almost a year and half later, Antony was still mourning the loss.
“What are you going to do with your life?” he whispered, still staring at his mismatched limbs. “And who would be willing to let you do it?”
His mother might be fine with him clinging to her like a leech for the rest of their lives, but Antony wasn’t.
The problem was…he had no idea what he could do instead.
Forcing his eyes away from his deformity, Antony studied the house. His mother was probably in her room at the back of the family room. She was either crying quietly so Antony wouldn’t hear, or she was trying to read a book while crying.
Either way, Antony had no way to help her.
“What would you do for someone else in your position?” The question caught Antony off guard, and his head spun until it landed on his mother.
She was watching him carefully from the entrance of the kitchen, shocking him into dumb silence .
“Uhh…”
His mother smiled softly and stood up from her lean. “If you had a friend who was in this position”—she waved at the wheelchair—“what advice would you give them?”
The words spilled out before Antony could stop them. “Tell him to suck it up and get off his butt.” His mother’s eyebrows shot up, and heat crawled up Antony’s neck. “Sorry, I…” He cleared his throat. “If it makes you feel any better, that was pretty mild compared to what the other guys in the military would have said.”
A laugh bubbled from his mom’s lips, bringing yet another round of shock.
“I’m sure it was,” his mom agreed. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to be less than a gentleman.”
Antony looked away. The gentlemanly part of him seemed to have died with the old Antony. The new Antony made women cry and hurt those he loved most. It was hard to come back from that.
His mother stepped closer. “While I won’t use the same verbiage,” she teased, “maybe I’m willing to offer similar advice.” She reached out, her cool fingers landing on his scarred cheek in order to pull his face around, but Antony jerked away.
No one needed to touch that skin. Not even his mother.
He kept his eyes down, not willing to see the look of hurt that would’ve passed over her face.
“Antony, dear. I love you. It’s been a wonderful blessing to have you here while life has been hard, but…” She swallowed audibly, and her voice grew deeper. “I think it’s time you moved on.”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate, and when they did, his neck snapped so fast his skin stung. “What did you say?”
“I’m saying what every good mother says at some point in her child’s life…get out.”