Page 30 of Property of Mongrel

“You never were dumb, Ca… I mean, Mongrel. But I also remember the days you came home with bloody knuckles or a black eye because of the fights you got into. Then when Mom and Dad died, the small chip on your shoulder became a damn boulder.”

“I can’t wait to be able to ride again,” I muse, deciding to change the subject.

“When you get the all clear signal, we’ll go together,” Jonah replies.

“Sounds like a plan to me, Jonah,” I tell him.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Addy

Mongrel’s been true to his word and has worked his ass off these past two weeks. Today is, hopefully, his final assessment so I can discharge him, and I’m getting excited about our potential future.

You need to let him in about your past, girlie, Betty’s voice whispers in my head.

I shake my head, because she said that two weekends ago when we went back to the farmer’s market so I could get some fresh vegetables and fruits to can for the winter. I mean, she’s got a point, since some of my habits are peculiar. Like, for instance, if I want to take a relaxing bath with a book and wine, I shower beforehand. Then, there’s the fact that I shower when I get home after I’ve cleaned the house despite the fact that it’s spotless.

But she didn’t live with bugs and absolute filth. Hell, one of the first things after we got my hair cut and bought new clothes was a full physical. There were no true surprises; I was horrifically malnourished to the point that the doctor wanted to put me in the hospital. Instead, he made sure to file a report with CPS, which helped Betty gain guardianship rights to me. But the worst thing was when the doctor asked me if anything was causing me pain, I mentioned that my right ear always itched, and when he looked, he had to extract a roach. The thought still makes me shudder and wanna puke, because how could you be so derelict in caring for your own flesh and blood that you don’t do your very best to keep the house clean enough for something like that not to happen!

“You weren’t kidding,” I murmur as I jot down Mongrel’s measurements. “You’re at maximum medical improvement with a one-hundred percent range of motion in that shoulder, Mongrel.”

“Told you I wasn’t fucking around,” he replies, smirking at me.

I don’t know how to respond to his comment, so I make a noncommittal noise as I finish updating his notes. There’s a small part of me that’s scared; I mean, I’ve dated, of course, but most of the men I’ve gone out with didn’t last long and the reason was always around my ‘peculiar habits’ and how I was so ‘anal retentive’ about things being just so. Betty always tells me that I dodged a bullet, but it still kind of rattled my cage every time it happened and left me with a few insecurities of my own.

“Yeah, I guess you did say that, didn’t you?” I tease. “Now, it’s your last session, so let’s make it a good one, shall we?

“What’s a good day for you?” he asks as I print off the paperwork, so he has it for his files.

“Um, well, I guess either Friday or Saturday,” I reply, buzzards taking root in my gut.

I feel like that guy on that one show who yells out, “This is happening!” while running around with their head cut off. Because it’s been inferred multiple times, and of course, I’m attracted to him, but now that the time is actually here my brain is short-circuiting as I wonder if it’s a good idea or not.

“How about Saturday early afternoon? We can go catch a movie then get something to eat. Is there any food you don’t like?” he questions.

“I won’t eat liver and onions, or oysters, but outside of that, I enjoy most foods,” I tell him, grinning when I see him shuddering at oysters. “My absolute favorite is Mexican.”

“The place in town, right? Has freaking awesome queso and some of the best enchiladas I’ve ever had outside of the ones that Constance and Maria make,” he replies.

“Yes, that’s the one!” I exclaim, my mouth already salivating while thinking of their food. “Although, I should probably warn you that I can eat my weight in chips, salsa, and queso and still eat the majority of my food.”

“Good, I like a woman who’s got a healthy appetite and isn’t afraid to eat,” he declares. “Any movie preference?”

“As long as it’s not a gory slasher film, I’m good. I like action, fantasy, rom-com, and dramas,” I confess. “I even like psychological thrillers, just no blood and guts.”

He chuckles and says, “Not a fan of those myself, to be honest. I don’t like haunted houses, either.”

“Same, but I love going to fall festivals and that kind of thing,” I admit. “My favorite holiday, though, is Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas.”

“Give me your number, Addy, please, and I’ll check out movies and times and text you so we can figure out what we wanna see.”

“Should I tell you that I’ll want popcorn too?” I muse, tapping my finger against my chin while I grin at him. “Betty’s not sure where I put it all.” Hearing my alarm that lets me know I have about ten minutes before my next patient comes in, I say, “Here’s my number,” before rattling it off. “I need to get ready for my next victim.”

“Can’t wait until this weekend, Addy,” he says.

“Me either, Mongrel,” I reply.