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“She’s mine. Let her go.”

“Ethan,” Cricket repeated softly, stepping at my side. My hand instinctively held her from going any farther.

“Don’t you dare, Cricket Hunt,” he gritted, his jaw clenching.

“Ethan,” she said, softer.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” he bellowed.

“Don’t yell at her, Moonsong!”

Ethan laughed before piercing me with his stare. “Are you kidding me right now?” He turned to her and ignored me. “Cricket, you’re confused.”

“I’m not. Ethan, I…”

“Don’t,” he said, his head hanging low. “Spare me this bullshit. This has been going on for so long, and I just put up with this shit. I should have known it was over when you took me off the list.”

List?

“Ethan,” she warned.

He faced me, the most furious, most livid expression in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice dropped menacingly. “Spencer Blackwell, I warned you. I told you. Now I’m gonna get you...when you least expect it.”

He eerily turned from us and wordlessly walked to his truck. He got inside, started the engine, but before he drove off, he watched me.

His eyes promised a furious revenge.

Chapter Thirty-One

That same morning, we brought Eugie home. Jonah drove while Cricket and I rode in the bed with him, our hands petting his fur all the way home. Cricket kept saying that she couldn’t believe it over and over, but I wasn’t sure if she was talking about Eugie’s death, Ethan’s abrupt departure or both.

When we pulled up to the house, Ellie came bounding out to greet us, but one look at our faces and she knew something had happened.

“What’s going on?” she asked in dismay.

Cricket hopped out of the bed and ran up to her. Ellie held her and stroked her head, still not understanding. I slid Eugie’s body over in the sleeping bag and hopped out of the truck, letting down the tailgate, then picking him up. He felt so light to the touch; I could hardly stand it. For being such an amazing friend to Cricket and even to me, he should have felt more substantial. His weight should have been directly parallel to how he served the Hunt family, but that would have made it impossible for me to lift him.

I carried him up the stairs and Ellie furrowed her brows, trying to decide what it was I was carrying when it dawned on her. She searched the truck, bed and ground quickly for him, but she wouldn’t find him. Her hand went to her mouth.

“My darling girl,” she told Cricket and hugged her tighter. When I came closer, her hand went to my shoulder. “Take him to the living room,” she instructed. I began to walk away, but before I could take more than one step, she hugged my neck. “I’m sorry for you too, boy. I know you loved him very much.”

I nodded, afraid to speak for fear I’d break down, and took Eugie to the main living room. I laid him on the plank flooring by the large windows and just sat beside him.

No one prepares you for the death of a pet. It’s not quite like losing a human loved one, obviously, but you cannot help but feel a tiny bit of despair. After all, they serve you so loyally. I think they genuinely love you, and they’re so protective of you. They do their jobs so instinctually and so exceptionally because that’s how God made them.

I remembered stories from my childhood, when my mom used to take Bridge and me to church. They were the stories of St. Francis. Through St. Francis, we were reminded just how these creatures of God served humans, and by serving His humans, they served and praised God. I always thought of animals as nothing more than soulless creatures before those stories, never once thinking that they too had a purpose. I had seen a statue of St. Francis in a courtyard once and the image was of him bending down and scratching a dog behind his ears and I thought, if a man so close to God gave respect to even the lowliest of God’s creatures, they must be worth loving.

Cricket came into the living room and sat beside me, taking my hand in hers.

“He was such a good boy,” she said simply.

“He was,” I agreed.

We sat, staring out the window, watching spring melt the leftover snow right before our eyes, coming to terms with the drastic turns our life had taken in the past few hours.

She squeezed my hand. “We’ll have to bury him,” she said softly.

“Of course.”

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