I drew a breath and whispered, “What was the cat’s name?”
He jolted a bit, and I didn’t know if the question surprised him or just the fact I’d said something. He cleared his throat. “Muffin.”
I made a noise.
He laughed, and it sounded a little wet. “I know, right? But still.”
Yeah, but still. I wondered if a little kid had named it and then wished I hadn’t, because that made it worse. I hugged Mason tighter before I let him go, and he turned around and fiddled with the cup in the sink again.
I held my hand out to the dog and scratched his head, and Mason and I didn’t have to look at each other for a while. I sat on the kitchen floor and ended up with the dog sprawled across my lap, his cone digging into me as he did his best to lick my face. “Hey,” I whispered, “are you feeling better, boy?”
The dog panted in reply and gave me a doggy grin, then licked my arm from wrist to elbow. It was gross and also kind of cute, and when I looked up I found Mason watching us and wearing the beginnings of a smile.
I scrunched up my nose and held up my arm, and Mason let out a soft laugh and handed me a paper towel. I was glad to see him smiling, and he seemed a lot less tense than he had been when I arrived.
I wiped my arm clean and stood, and Mason took the dog to the kennel room and put him in his cage. I took it as my cue to leave. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome.
I headed for the front door and stood there awkwardly for a minute and rubbed the back of my neck, then waggled my fingers and whispered, “Bye.”
“See you tomorrow?” Mason asked.
And maybe I was imagining it, but it sounded like there was a hopeful note in that question, like he really wanted the answer to be yes. I didn’t know Mason, not really, and he didn’t know me, but I was glad I’d been here tonight when he’d needed that hug. And maybe I’d needed it too.
I nodded to let him know I’d be here, and I didn’t imagine the small smile he gave me in response.
CHAPTER 5
MASON
The dog was a fucking menace.
“No wonder you were abandoned,” I grumbled and immediately felt bad. None of this was the dog’s fault. Okay, the chewed-up remains of a carton of paper towels strewn around the floor of the storage room were his fault, sure, and the drool-covered phone charger hanging from his mouth wasdefinitelyhis fault, no matter how innocent he was trying to look. But it wasn’t his fault he’d never been trained, or that I’d forgotten to close the storage room, or left my charger where he could reach it. He was just a dog doing dog things.
Still, it was a level of bullshit I didn’t need to deal with today. Or any day lately.
I held out one hand and said, “Drop it,” in as stern a voice as I could muster.
The dog’s tail thumped against the floor rapidly, like he thought we were playing a new game. I advanced a step, hand still extended, and he tensed like he was getting ready to run. Before he could bolt I managed to snag the charger, dragging it from his mouth and holding it up, hoping against hope that it could be salvaged.
A piece of plastic casing clattered to the floor, shattering my illusions of a rescue. “Fuck,”I said, louder than the situation warranted. The word came out sharp enough to cut, and I wasn’t the only one who heard it.
The dog whined and immediately dropped to the ground, curling up into a tight ball with his ears back against his head. I reached out a hand to reassure him and cursed again, silently this time, when he flinched.
I took a deep breath and lowered myself to the floor.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with me. C’mere.” I reached into the pocket of my scrubs and found a dog treat and held it out to him. He sniffed the air and stood before taking a cautious step forward. “That’s a good boy,” I said, extending my palm. He snatched the treat and scurried backward, but now his demeanor was less terrified and more sheepish, so I felt a little less like an asshole for scaring him.
I extended a hand toward the mess of paper towels. “You wanna tell me what happened here?”
The innocent expression he gave me was clearly meant to convey,It was like this when I got here, officer.It probably would have been convincing if he hadn’t still had shreds of paper hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
“You’re a menace,” I said with a rueful laugh, pocketing the remains of my charger and getting to my feet. “This isn’t Cincinnati, you know? There’s not a grocery store just down the street where I can go grab another one of these.”
The dog wagged his tail.
This was definitely my fault for not putting him back in his cage after dinner. Just, it had seemed dumb for him to eat in his cage and for me to eat in the kitchen when we could both be eating together. It was a social thing, right? Or something like that. So we’d eaten, and that had been nice, and I’d been doingthe dishes (mine, not his) when he’d apparently followed the siren song of the unattended charger.And now look at it.
What the hell was even open in Goose Run at this hour? It wasn’t even eight yet, but in Goose Run that might as well have been midnight. Midnight in 1953.
