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Ernie didn’t answer him. He called up to Chad. “Will you grab the bag from the back of my truck and bring it in. Parked outside, white Ford.”
Logan watched as Chad went out and lifted something from the back of Ernie’s truck. A heavy bag for boxing.
What the hell was Ernie up to now?
“What are you doing?” Logan asked as he stepped further back.
Ernie stepped in and locked the door behind Chad, and then made a motioning movement with his head. “Move, that thing’s freaking heavy. You gonna make your buddy carry this shit around all night or get out of his way?”
Logan stepped aside, the dog coming with him, but he turned to glare at Ernie.
Ernie ignored him and walked into the basement room Logan had intended to take over as his own while he needed to be here. By now, Sam and Zach had come down the stairs.
Zach introduced Sam to Ernie, who greeted her like they were long-lost friends.
Ernie looked up at the ceiling. “You got a drill, Sam?”
Adding to Logan’s annoyance, she nodded and walked into the utility room that housed the hot water heater and furnace and came back with a large drill case in one hand and a tool box in another.
“Take whatever you need.” She put the cases down and came over to pet the dog, who greedily pushed into her arms for more. “What’s your dog’s name?”
Ernie didn’t bat an eye as he opened the drill case, sorting through bits for the right size. “His name is Billy, but he’s not my dog.”
“Whose dog is he?”
Logan got a weird twisty feeling in his gut at Sam’s question.
Oh,hell no. He wouldn’t.
“He’s Logan’s.”
He did.
“No, he’s not,” Logan said, dropping the leash and taking a step away from both Sam and the dog.
The dog followed Logan, pressing to Logan’s left side and shoving his head up under his hand.
“Sure he is,” Ernie said, “just look at him.” Ernie waved a hand at Logan and the dog, and damned if that dog didn’t press even further into Logan’s leg.
“No. He’s not.”
Sam started to laugh and Logan’s scowl only made her laugh harder.
Ernie was knocking on the low basement ceiling with his fist, and Chad joined in, searching for a beam to hang the bag on. They nodded at each other a few times, and Ernie marked a spot with a pencil. As Ernie turned the chuck to fix the bit into place on the drill, he glanced up at Logan.
“Yeah, he’s your new service dog. You got lucky. He was working with another veteran nearby but for a number of reasons, the match wasn’t the right fit. The guy’s kid is allergic to him. The service dog organization I work with is going to get him a poodle instead. There’s usually a one year or longer wait for a dog. I talked them into letting you have Billy since you’re in the area. That way, they don’t need to ship him back to Massachusetts. You will need to attend training with him, but that can wait for a while.”
Chad manned the drill and began setting up the heavy bag, and Logan remembered Ernie and Chad had been friends. Maybe he shouldn’t have chosen Ernie as his counselor after all.
Logan yelled over the noise. “I don’t need a service dog. I don’t need any of this. I need you all to get the hell out and leave me alone.”
He saw Sam flinch, but he just kept going. He started to pace along one wall of the room, turning when he hit the end to go back to the other wall. Back and forth, walking to nowhere and getting there fast. He needed to get out of here. He needed gone. Now.
“I don’t need pity jobs or—” He stopped and looked down. The dog had moved himself in front of Logan’s legs and pressed up against him. He rubbed his head up and down Logan’s leg.
“What the hell is your dog doing?” Logan yelled, but the whine of the drill stopped halfway through his question and the room went silent as his too loud words met the emptiness.
“Your dog,” said Ernie calmly. “You’re getting upset. He’s responding to it.”
