“I’ll make it up to you, Jenna. Let me make it up to you.”
“You can’t.”
“Anything. I’ll do anything, give you anything in the world you want,” I plead. “A house, a boat, a plane. I’ll take you to the moon.”
Her eyes rise.
“Diamonds, money, jewelry, anything you want. You want me to drop a billion dollars on a dog rescue park? I’ll do it. Jenna, please, just don’t look at me like that.”
I reach out slowly, waiting for her to flinch. She doesn’t, so I wipe my thumb under her eyes, catching the tears shimmering on her cheeks.
“Anything.” I whisper the promise to her. “I’ll follow the plan. I’ll say what you want me to say. Shit, Jenna, I’ll marry you, give you the wedding of your dreams—babies, puppies, everything.” I sound whiny. My older brothers would tell me I sound whiny. “Just don’t hate me. Not for real, anyway.”
“I don’t hate you.” The whisper is hoarse.
“Anything you want,” I repeat and kiss her cheeks, which are salty like she’s come out of the ocean.
She looks at me, eyes red. “Anything?”
I nod, kiss her hands.
“I don’t want money or expensive presents, McCarthy.” Her tongue darts out.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
She clears her throat. “I want you to answer a question.”
“A question.” I jerk back. “What kind of question?”
“An open-ended question. No yes-or-no answers.”
“Can’t I just fly you to Paris?” I ask desperately.
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s too easy. You might as well take me to Target.”
I scowl at her as she blinks up at me. “Fine. Ask it.”
“Have you ever loved anything—”
“Of course. My brothers.”
“Not done. Did you ever love anything then lose it?”
“Why don’t I buy you a house?”
She’s shaking her head slowly.
“Okay.” I look toward the expanse of glass separating us from the foggy skyline. “Okay, yeah… I have.”
“Iknow you know how to answer a question.” Her mouth is stubborn. “In this five-paragraph essay, McCarthy will discuss…”
“All right,all right. Fuck. Yeah. A dog.” I hate the memories that flood me. “He was the goofiest dog you ever saw. At the compound—it wasn’t like the one you grew up on—people would dump dogs out in the desert instead of finding them new homes. Got him as a puppy.” I try to keep the edge of desperation out of my voice. “Just appeared one day. A mix—maybe corgi and pit bull or something. Big chest, stubby legs. Two of his front teeth didn’t come in.” I mime with my fingers.
“Salinger let me take him with us when we escaped my dad’s compound. He didn’t want to, but I cried and cried when my brother said I had to leave Buddy behind. We jumped a train, went west. We tried to get help. The shelter didn’t let you bring dogs. The Haven Foundation.” I nod up to the faded sign hanging on my wall.
