Theo does two more laps and then pulls off to the side.
”Great job, man,” I tell him giving him a fist bump.
The bike idles as he pulls off his helmet. “My calves are killing me!”
”Yeah, yeah,” I say, messing with him. “Hit the gym and build your strength. This is the only way to ride—balls of your feet on the pegs. Anything else is lazy and slow.”
”Got it,” he says, exhaling slowly.
I know the poor kid is in pain. Motocross is extremely physical. It’s not just riding around for funsies while a motor does all the work. Your whole body gets a workout while wrangling the bike.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Keanna, which is weird because she never calls me when she knows I’m teaching lessons. She’ll just text me to call her when I get a moment. Theo is telling me about his workout routine, so I feel bad but I let her call go to voicemail. Theo’s in college, but his dad pays me a lot of money to teach his kid how to go pro and I don’t want to seem like I’m not giving him my full attention. His dad sits in the bleachers right now watching us.
We get back to the lesson, and Keanna calls again. Twice in a row? That’s beyond weird.
”I’m sorry, man, my wife is calling.” I give him an apologetic look and step aside.
”Hello?”
”Jett!” Keanna screams. “Come home now!”
Chapter 21
Keanna
1 Hour Ago
Would it be terrible if I just quit my job and started selling homemade wreaths? Probably. But as I sit on the floor of the living room, surrounded by cut ribbons, dollar store ornaments, and the hot glue gun, I am so proud of this wreath I just made that I start to think I should make a million more of them. On second thought, I’d probably get tired of making wreaths after a while.
I’m just extremely proud of myself for finding a crafty tutorial and making something that actually looks just like the pictures online. It’s made of pearly white, red, and green deco mesh with some gold accent ribbon and cute little ornament decorations scattered around it.
I snap a picture of the wreath, then check the time. It’s just after nine, so Jett will probably be home in half an hour or so. It’s really not that bad with him teaching late classes. We spend the day together and then I get a few hours alone to work on things that make me happy, like this wreath.
I think that might be what’s been getting me down lately--that all I had was work and my family. Obviously I love those two things, especially my family, but it seems like everyone else has something extra that gives their life more meaning. Something special. I need something special, too.
It took a while to break out of my funk, but moving into this house awakened something in me. I spent so much time looking online for house remodeling ideas and decorating tips that I realized I kind of like being crafty. It’s so rewarding to take an old, dated space and make it fresh and new again with your own hands.
Sure, Jett helped me with the heavy stuff, but I did a ton of work on my own. Now I’m inspired to keep finding fun ways I can improve the things around me.
Arko lifts his head off the floor, staring off into the distance. A deep rumble fills the air. At first I don’t realize it’s a growl. I’ve never heard him growl before. He growls again. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Arko?”
He doesn’t look at me. He’s looking at nothing. Just straight ahead…well, I guess he’s looking toward the living room window.
“Is there a squirrel out there?” I ask him as I stand up, moving aside the pile of my ribbons and deco mesh. He absolutely loves chasing the squirrels in the back yard. They get on top of the fence line and just run back and forth, almost like they’re purposely taunting him. He’ll chase them over and over again, never getting tired. I have to bribe him with treats to get him to come back inside.
I’ve heard him bark at them before, but never growl.
“Is one on the porch?” I say in my doggie voice. (My doggie voice is a lot like a baby voice. Pretty much identical.)
He’s looking toward the front window, so maybe he’s excited at the idea of catching a squirrel without the back yard fence getting in his way. Unfortunately for him, I’m not going to let him eat a squirrel. That would be gross and sad for the squirrel. As long as they’re safely on the top of the fence, I don’t mind if he chases them because it gives him energy, and the squirrels seem to like teasing him.
“Ooh, is there a squirrel on the porch?” I ask him. Still, he growls. It’s like he doesn’t hear me talking to him at all. The hair on the scruff of his neck lifts up like a lion’s mane. He bears his teeth and slowly walks toward the front window like a wild animal stalking its prey.
To be honest, it’s a little scary.
“Arko, it’s okay,” I say, softening my voice. “Let’s go investigate and see what that silly squirrel is doing.”
