My girl was terrified. I stopped my baiting of her and opened the door into a deathly quiet garage, so damn grateful I’d parked my truck away from possible disaster.
“What is it?” She gripped the back of my shirt.
I drew her to my side, and she gaped at the paint catastrophe on the floor, then she searched the selves, finally spying the culprit behind a bag of charcoal on the top shelf.
Crash peered down at the open can and the light gray mess on the cement floor as if he’d never seen it before.
Charli laughed. “Now I get why you call him that.”
“It’s not his first accident,” I grumbled. “He’s dropped an open kibble bag, gardening tools, anything I keep up there in his pursuit ofthat.” I nodded to a bird currently perched on a wooden beam, probably taking refuge from the rain. “Go finish your meal. I’ll clean this up and join you.”
“No, I’ll help, and then we can eat.” She glanced around, found some rags I had tossed on a shelf, and gathered them.
I watched her for a moment. Hell, this girl. Somehow she made even the darkness I carried inside me feel lighter. Not all of it, though. I doubted if anyone ever could, but she came damn close.
