The memories are sharp and bittersweet. It was just after Chase had been taken away from me, and I was heartbroken I was going to lose something else that I loved. I can still feel his dirty, matted coat. And I can remember the look on his face as we drove away. “I begged. Pleaded. But my mom wouldn’t let me take him with us.”
“Oh, hon,” Taylor says. “That must have been so hard.”
“When I finally made it back to my old neighborhood to find him, he was gone. I tried a few more times, but he’d left for good. I always wondered if he left to find me.”
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” Taylor says. “You were just a kid.”
Objectively, I know what Taylor said is true. But I still think about Socks with guilt, wondering what happened to him, imagining how sad he must have been to be abandoned. I know that feeling. My mom abandoned me time after time to chase the next guy and the next high.
Socks chose me. And I let him down.
And now Archie chose Ryder.
The thing is, I chose Ryder as well.
I really want him to choose us both back.
CHAPTER 11
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
Ryder and I are opposites. He’s always working, striving. And I’m always teasing, playing. But somehow when we spend time together, it feels right. Like we balance each other. But who am I kidding? The poor, homeless girl and the rock star.
How very Cinderella of me.
(NOW)
It’s days later, and karma sucks.
“I’m bored.” I say it when Ryder passes me to make another cup of coffee. He brews me a decaf because he says I don’t need more energy.
“I’m bored.” I say it when he comes to check on me to see if I need anything else, which really is sweet.
“I’m bored.” I say it when he comes to take Archie, who is lying at my feet and gnawing on the end of my bell-bottom jeans, for a walk.
“I’m bored.” I even say it to the dog later that afternoon. He perks his ears, crawls up my body that’s half reclining on the couch, my foot propped on a pillow, and gives me a lick on my chin.
“Thank you, Archie,” I say.
I swear he winks, and then he jumps off me and runs to find something more fun to do. “Traitor!” I cry after him.
I know I’m being super annoying, but I can’t take it anymore. I can’t handle sitting on the couch for one more second. There’s nothing I want to watch on television. I love books but prefer audio ones while I’m multitasking. I listen to them when I’m in the car, hunting for my next vintage find.
I have been doing a lot of sketching and sewing, but I get nervous when I sit too long, as if I’m going to jump out of my skin. And the only reason I’m still on this couch right now and not being a badass on my crutch is so Ryder can get maximum Archie time. Instead, Ryder is out, probably procrastinating instead of songwriting. And I’m here with the dog.
“That’s it.” I’ll sneak back to the couch before he gets home, but I need to move around.
I grab the crutch. I wince when I accidentally put weight on my ankle. Being up and about is totally worth it, though.
I wish I could go for a walk outside, but I explore the house instead.
I wander down the maze-like second-floor hallway. And open a door at the very end that I’ve never noticed before.
I peek in and almost cry. It’s a thing of beauty.
