Page 21 of Wag More Bark Less

I was extra grouchy for it, too.

“Because I got here first so I made the assignments,” Connor said, setting the hand scanners on the front counter.

“I got here when you told me to be here.”

“C’mon, Luke. You know the rules. If you’re not fifteen minutes early⁠—”

“—you’re late!” Opal finished.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school today?” I asked her.

“In-service day.” My niece flashed me the cheesiest smile, her pigtails rocking back and forth while she did. They weren’t braided—Connor tried his best, but he was terrible at it—but they were even. She wore a light pink sweatshirt that read nine is a vibe, reminding me she just turned another year older. Time needed to slow the fuck down.

“Which section are you doing?” I asked Opal, running a finger down the list of departments on the list Connor put together. “And before you say none, I know you know how to count.”

“I’m doing candles,” she announced proudly.

“That’ll take you five minutes,” I countered. The candle section was hardly an endcap. “I think you need to do”—I pretended to skim the list again—“fertilizer.”

“Eww! No!” She giggled again, and it made my heart squeeze. If things had gone differently three years ago, I might have a little girl of my own. But Raquel had never wanted kids—something she only admitted in the note I discovered in her empty dressing room an hour before she was due to walk down the aisle.

Fuck, I hadn’t thought about that in . . . ages. Why was I thinking about it now? Oh right, because I had a runaway bride staying next door reminding me women were cruel.

“Luke?” Connor said with some exasperation, as though it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.

“Yeah?”

“You sure you don’t want to skip this one? We can handle it.”

“Let’s just get started.”

I yanked my clipboard out of Connor’s hand, my earlier grouchiness renewing. Despite the exhaustion in my bones, I doubted I’d sleep much if I went home. Not with buried memories dredging themselves up. Fuck, I hoped the nightmares didn’t start again. Just another reason having Maggie next door was the worst fucking idea I’d entertained in longer than I could remember. But what could I do about it now?

“There’s a new shipment in the back for lawn and garden,” Connor said, handing me a box cutter. I’d have to unpack it before I inventoried that section.

“That all?”

“One for pet supplies too.”

“The assignments make more sense now,” I grumbled, suspecting all the heavy lifting would fall to me today.

“Hey, I offered you the out.”

“Speaking of outs, where’s Dad?”

“Doctor’s appointment,” Connor said, his voice much too nonchalant for the alarm bells that instantly went off for me. But that was my brother—the peacekeeper, calm under pressure. It’s what once made him an outstanding soldier. But right now, his underreaction grated on my last tired nerve.

“Care to elaborate?” I asked through gritted teeth. Why the fuck was I always the last one to know about these things? It was as though my family kept me out of the loop until the last possible second on purpose. But what I didn’t understand was why.

“Opal, why don’t you get Uncle Luke a cup of coffee,” Connor said. “The bigger, the better. He’s extra grumpy today.”

Opal skipped off toward the office at the back where the ancient but reliable coffee maker lived, chanting, “Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy,” in a sing-songy voice as she went.

“It’s just a routine checkup,” Connor said when Opal was out of earshot.

“Bullshit.”

“He gets a physical every year.”