The guy glared at me. “Listen,asshole?—”
“You’re the asshole!” I said, raising my voice. “You’re the asshole who dumped your injured dog on me in the middle of the night, then bolted before you could even give me your name!” I forced my volume down and tried to remember I was a professional. “So let’s talk about how you’re going to pay the bill, shall we?”
Apparently, I didn’t get my volume down as quickly as I should have.
Two guys emerged from the back, both wearing aprons. They were around my height and had the broad shoulders and upperbody strength that came from hauling sacks of flour around all day.
“Problem?” the darker one asked.
“A customer is yelling at me,” the guy said, eyes narrowed. “And for once, it’s not even my fault.” I opened my mouth, and he held up his hand. “Hold up a second. Did you say something about adog? Wait, are you Dr. Ross’s replacement?”
“Temporary,” I said. “And you know exactly who?—”
“Dr. Ross is the vet,” the guy said to the others. “He’s like on a cruise or something? Or dead? I don’t care.” He turned back to me. “Anyway,asshole, I’ve never met you before in my life.” His murderous glare wavered, and then he let out a breath and said, “But I do have an identical twin brother.”
I blinked at him.
He had a what now?
CHAPTER 2
CASH
The Lego Colosseum had 9036 pieces, and I’d been staring at the same one for what felt like half a lifetime now.
Mr. Conrad didn’t have a little dining table in his living area, the way most of the residents of Sunny Fields did. He had a massive table instead, so large that he couldn’t even fit a couch in here, just his recliner. The table was covered in bits of the Colosseum. We’d been working on it for a few weeks now while our last project, the Titanic, overlooked us from the top of Mr. Conrad’s bookcase.
“You’re quiet today,” Mr. Conrad said and laughed a little bit when I snorted. “Something on your mind?”
I shrugged.
My shift had finished an hour ago, but I liked to hang around and put Lego together with Mr. Conrad. He was—noteasyto talk to, since nobody was, buteasierthan most people. Mostly because he didn’t really talk that much either. He listened a lot. He used to teach psychology at a college before he retired, and now he spent his time making Lego and reading books and listening to music.
Mr. Conrad squinted at the instructions and said, “How are things with Chase and Lee? Still a little wobbly?”
Not for them, but for me. I liked that Chase had a boyfriend, and I liked Lee. I wanted Chase to be happy. Just, it was scary too, whether it was Chase stepping away, or Lee stepping into our space, or whatever the hell it was that was happening. Scary, yeah. And I knew that was a problem—for me, again, not for them—because I shouldn’t have been scared of things changing, because not all change was bad. I knew that; I just didn’t feel it.
I had a whole lifetime of unlearning to do, Mr. Conrad had told me once, and that could be hard work.
“It’s good,” I said. I hadn’t thought about Chase all day, actually, which was unusual. Then again, maybe not, considering what had been occupying my thoughts instead. “I stole a dog.”
Mr. Conrad’s eyebrows shot up, and he cupped a hand behind his ear. “You what?”
“Stole a dog,” I whispered.
“Oh, I’m gonna need more words than that on this one, Cash,” he said with a smile. He read my expression and said, “What’s the rush? We’ve got as long as you need.”
Mr. Conrad never pressured me to talk. We just fiddled around with the Lego blocks like we always did, and the words came out, bit by bit.
Last night, after my shift, I’d stayed late watching a movie with Grandma Jane. Then, when I was finally on my way home, I’d pulled my dirt bike over about halfway to Goose Run because I’d had way too many sodas and I really needed to piss. Wasn’t like there was any traffic around at that hour. So I turned the bike off, went behind the nearest tree, and… anyway, when I was finished, that was when I heard the whining.
There wasn’t much out that way. Couple of houses set back from the highway down dirt roads and a few leaning mailboxes.I’d tried to remember what they looked like during the day, but it didn’t matter. This was rural Virginia—of course the owners had shotguns, and lurking around their places at night was a pretty dumb thing to do. Going closer, close enough to be in full moonlit view of the house as I looked for the source of the whimpering, was even dumber.
I did it anyway, though, because I couldn’t ignore the sound of an animal hurting.
Inside the house, the TV was blaring and light from the screen danced on the windows. I barely breathed as I crept closer, the sound of grit crunching under my soles as loud as thunder.
I found the dog tied to an old fence post, like someone had just forgotten it there. And it was bleeding pretty badly. I couldn’t undo the chain, so I took its collar off it, the tags jingling in the quiet. Then, my heart racing, I shoved the dog down the front of my hoodie and bolted back to my dirt bike before anyone even knew I was there.
