The night gets cooler, the fire warmer, and my eyes heavier as everything spins around me. The fire crackles every now and then, splintering the low quiet hum of the evening. One by one people leave, stopping by to pat my head like I’m their dog. Finally, it’s just me, Charles, River, and Gilbert. River waves away me asking if I can help clean up. Charles and I leave quietly, but not without me looking over my shoulder to watch Gilbert help douse the final flames of the fire, his and River’s shadows lost to me in the pitch-black evening.
“You guys do those often?” Charles asks. I’m not able to make him out much in the dark, despite the front house lights being on. I can’t make out his features or the emotions he’s feeling that are usually so clearly painted across his expressive face.
“More often in the early summer.”
“Ah. It was fun. Maybe one day I’ll be able to play with you.”
“Maybe,” I agree as I hurry to unlock my car. I put the guitar in the back seat, then open the driver’s side door, leaning against it as I soak in the perfection that is Charles Augustin. He looks ever so warm in his hoodie, the kind of warmth that would surely bleed into me if I wrapped my arms around him.
“Good night,” Charles says quietly, voice a fracture under the starry sky.
“Good night.”
Charles hesitates but seems to gather the courage to reach out, his fingers dancing across my cheek, before he turns around and disappears into the night. I stare after him, heart racing, wondering how many walls I’ll need to put up to protect myself against this man who has every chance to kill me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHARLES
Afew weeks of guitar lessons and I’m better at it than I expected. Maybe Tucker commenting on the size of my hands is true. Maybe it’s all about the length of your fingers, your dexterity, maybe it’s a combination of my eagerness to learn and the patience of my teacher. Or maybe that’s all bullshit and the universe spun a web to ensure Tucker and I ended up in the same place at the same time in some perfect touch of fate.
Who knows.
September in Hope Island is lovely. The air is chillier in the evenings, the days less balmy, and the tourists are mostly gone. With every season that passes by, this place starts to feel more likehome, which is a scary thing for someone like me who’s never known a real home before. But between Brent and Mark, Marcia, and being added into Tucker’s group of friends, well, I’m starting to realize that maybe I’ve ended up right where I’m supposed to belong.
After I return from my run one mid-September day, it’s to find Cupcake still lying in her bed, lethargic and odd. I dipdown beside her and lift her paw to rub it in the palm of my hand. She doesn’t open her eyes or acknowledge me at all, and my heart all but races out of my chest.Calm, I remind myself. Growing up on the farm didn’t harden me in the way my father always wanted or expected. I think in some ways it made my heart softer, not what my family expected from the son of a farmer.
I pick Cupcake up, ignoring the hard twinge in my knee. She’s loose in my arms and my stomach turns at the weight of her.
“It’s all right, sweet girl, it’s all right.” She’s quiet in my arms as I head out to the truck and settle her into the back. I don’t even bother calling the veterinary office. I just start the truck and head that way.
The early morning dew is just melting away as I cross the bridge, hoping and praying that they’re open already this early in the morning. Cupcake’s breathing is shallow and fast, and my mind flashes to holding her as a puppy all those years ago when I inherited her from a teammate in San Diego. She’d been small, then suddenly she’d been huge. I rub anxiously at my chest the closer we get to the veterinary office.
A few cars dot the parking lot when I pull in, but thankfully the office is lit and the sign on the door is flipped to open. Relief courses through me for one moment before being replaced with dread again when I pick Cupcake up. Her stomach is hard and distended, breathing shallow and fast, and I know, after the years on the farm, that this isn’t good. I just have to hope she’s strong enough to survive. She’s been my only family for so long, I can’t lose her.
“Please help,” I say the moment I step through the doors.
The kind nurse from last time, Sarah, is there immediately, guiding me into the back. I ignore the waiting room, notcaring if anyone is there to see the tears streaming down my face.
“Help me get her back to the emergency room, then you can go back to the waiting room,” Sarah says softly, gently—far too gently for the situation.
“I can’t stay with her?” I beg, throat tight. I don’t want to leave her alone. I lay her on the table Sarah pointed at and press kisses across Cupcake’s face. “She’ll be okay?”
“Doctor Young will be here in a few minutes, and he’ll come right to her first. But you can’t stay.” Sarah pets Cupcake’s hind leg, but her eyes are squinted and her mouth tight. “We’ll tell you soon what’s wrong.”
“You know what’s wrong already,” I accuse, which isn’t like me at all, but I know she knows but won’t tell me.
“I can’t say. Now, go back to the waiting area with Sue.”
A kind-looking older woman magically appears in front of me. Despite the situation, I can’t be an asshole, so I kiss Cupcake once more, then follow Sue back to the waiting room. After tossing myself onto the bench seating in the corner, I press my elbows to my knees and hang my head in my hands. People come and go as I sit there, the morning moving forward in a sort of haze that I haven’t experienced since my last injury. Time feels fake, yet it keeps moving forward.
Finally, after too long, Dr. Young comes out to greet me. He holds his hand out for mine, and we shake loosely because I don’t have enough energy in me to return a strong grip.
“She’s going to be okay,” Dr. Young says with a tired smile.
“I know your name,” I say, like the idiot I am.
He smiles gently, like a father smiles to a small child. “You can call me Orson. Cupcake is going to be okay. Her stomach twisted, basically. It’s pretty common in dogs of her breed andsize. We’ve given her some medicine through IV, and I put a tube down her stomach to relieve the pressure. Once I’ve watched her overnight and feel she’s stable, if you’re okay with it, then I’d like to go ahead and do a procedure that’ll basically staple her stomach inside so that it won’t twist again. Also, pretty common. Have you been feeding her any large meals?”
