“I sprayed some air freshener in the truck,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “We bathed him at the shelter but he was a mess, and I think it would be a good idea to get him all cleaned up here so you can get accustomed to the process.”
“You’ve handed me extra chores, Lydia, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“But, Remington, it’s a chore that will love you back.”
Remy grumbled as he walked past her down the hall toward the bathroom, but she heard the water start to run, and she laughed.
But then Hank heard it too and bolted, straight off the couch and right out of the room.
Chapter 5
Remy came out of the bathroom to find Lydia standing there looking lost, and no dog in sight. “What just happened?”
“I don’t think Hank wants a bath.”
“Well, I don’t know that I need to give him one. . . .”
“He clearly has a fear of baths! But we can work on that.”
“You don’t know for sure? Didn’t you give him a bath at the shelter?”
“Not me personally. It happened before I got there for the day. That was before anyone knew whose dog he was.”
“Where did he go?”
“Into your . . . your bedroom,” she said.
Her words faltered a little bit there, but he didn’t analyze her hesitation. Instead, he turned and made his way toward his bedroom. Where there was no dog in sight.
Then he heard a pitiful whining coming from underneath the bed.
There was something about the sound that gripped him fully in the chest. Something about it that reminded him of being a child. A powerless being who didn’t understand what the person in charge was going to do, or why they were going to do it. Being a child was a lot like being a dog, he supposed. You were dependent on the people who were supposedly caring for you to make good decisions, and once it had been proven that they weren’t going to make reasonable decisions nine times out of ten, it just became difficult to trust. He knew that as well as he knew anything. He’d never thought that he would relate to an old cow dog. But right now, he did. And then some.
“Could you go get some cheese out of my fridge?” he asked.
“Sure,” Lydia said, and he heard her footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
“I don’t mean you any harm,” he said. “Remember we had a good day. And I’m not one of those people who flips on a dime, who acts happy with you one moment and then gets angry the next. I know my dad was like that. Probably got you because he figured you’d be of some use to him in some way, but then you never quite did what he wanted you to. That was me too. He wanted a son, but not me. And actually, I’m okay with that. Because why the hell would I want to be a good son to a man like him? You don’t want to be a chip off the old block when the block is nothing more than rotten wood. But I can take my time and earn your trust if I need to.”
“I’ve got it,” came a soft voice from behind him. Lydia had returned without his noticing. She swept into the room and knelt down beside him, cheese in hand. But it wasn’t cheese that he could smell. It was her. Some concoction of lilacs and vanilla. She had worn that perfume for a long time. It was actually a deeply embedded memory, but he’d never really thought about it until that moment. Or maybe, it hadn’t been significant until that moment. Lydia was a constant, one he could admit he took for granted in some ways. But right now, he wasn’t taking her for granted at all. She felt significant and singular, and unexpected in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
She handed him a little cube of cheese, and he took it, extending his hand beneath the bed. There was no movement.
“Poor guy,” she said.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
He waited. And then, finally, Hank’s brown nose surged forward. And Remy watched as the dog belly-crawled toward the cheese, sniffing at it suspiciously.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Because I’m definitely using this to bait you into a bath.”
The dog emerged, and took a bit of the cheese. Eventually, he came out entirely, climbing onto Remy’s lap, and sitting there, as if he wasn’t far too large for such a thing.
Remy sat, patting him on the side. “It’s okay,” he said. “Well. Now I feel like anything I do is going to be a betrayal.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It won’t be.”
