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He barked a few times and then swung his head toward the bowl.
“No. No begging, Savage.”
Whining, he lowered to the ground on his belly and started scooching closer, pathetically blinking up at me with those dark puppy eyes. Who the fuck taught my dog this shit?
“No, Savage.”
His whining increased as he approached and then lifted his head, resting it against my thigh as I leaned against the sink and tried to enjoy my beer. Fuckin’ dog.
A few deep barks filled the air and I ignored them, tipping back the long neck bottle, and finishing off the beer. When I didn’t acknowledge him, Savage began pawing at my legs. He whined again and I looked down, only to catch his tongue flapping out of his mouth again.
Fucking hell.
Sighing, I opened the cabinet and pulled out another can of the food. “You make me out to be a liar, you shit.”
Savage perked up when he heard the drawer open and I pulled the can opener out again. I only gave him half and then dumped the rest in a container, tossing it inside the fridge.
“Don’t you dare whine again,” I warned, shaking a finger at him. “Savage my ass. You’re such a wuss and pushover when it comes to food. If someone tried to break in, you’d roll over if they offered a snack.”
Savage ate the contents in just a few bites and then slurped up water from his other bowl. Droplets went flying from his snout as he shook out his dark coat of hair. Half of it splashed on me.
Ungrateful mutt.
I watched as he exited the kitchen and went straight to the back door, slipping outside to take a shit and completely dismiss me after I gave him what he wanted. Fuck. Even my damn dog used me.
And everyone wondered why I was such a grumpy old biker.
Shaking my head, I headed upstairs and into my bedroom to take a shower. My phone vibrated on the dresser and I glanced at the text. The new contact number for the sparrow. I’d send my message and greeting once I had washed off the grime
from the day.
Before the night was over, I needed another beer.
The day had been long and exhausting but worth it.
Noah was finally asleep and tucked into a new twin bed in his room. Everything was new or like new and I didn’t mind the fact that the appliances weren’t all straight from a store. They were mine. Donated, but mine to use and keep. An entire house for the two of us with rent paid for an entire year. Long enough for me to find a job and save some money.
Wow.
Tears filled my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. My chest heaved and I choked back a sob. I didn’t lift a finger to wipe them away. There was a reason for that. These were tears of gratitude and awe of the generosity of total strangers.
Never in my life had anyone helped me without personal gain. I didn’t know how to take all of the goodness being passed along. This was a bit scary and hard as hell to trust those who placed me and my son in a new home, moved us in, and helped us travel far away from danger but I knew I couldn’t let the past take over my present.
My son was depending on me and this would be the best Christmas he ever had. One free from violence, frightening nights, yelling, and watching his mother suffer through each and every day with fresh bruises. The holidays were only a couple of months away and I needed time to make sure everything was ready. It was probably wrong to smile but I dared to let the corners of my mouth lift as I picked up the cup of hot tea and sat by the front window, gazing out into the night and the bright moon surrounded by hundreds of twinkling stars.
Tonopah, Nevada was small and perfectly suited us. I loved the idea that we were hidden from the world and tucked into the desert, far from Texas and the memories that would probably always haunt us in our nightmares. Noah had developed night terrors over the last week. I knew it had everything to do with the fact that our lives had been completely uprooted and he didn’t have any stability.
That would all change now.
I unpacked the final box only an hour earlier and glanced around the house. It was nice, clean, and spacious. The only thing missing was a personal touch. I managed to have duplicates printed of all my favorite pictures of Noah and consistently hid them in the pillowcase beside the fireplace. Those bricks stayed cool despite the fire that was occasionally lit. I also had a stash in an envelope in my purse of the ones that were larger in size.
Once I added Noah’s pictures and a few of us together, it would feel more like home. When I found a job, I could add things here and there that we both liked. One room I wouldn’t have to change was the one that belonged to Noah. Before we arrived, the ghost asked what Noah wanted for décor.
“The Mandalorian!” he’d shouted. “Baby Yoda too. That show is awesome!”
It was Noah’s favorite. I recorded episodes so we could watch them together when Chet passed out drunk and we had peace. The first thing Noah did when the truck pulled onto the driveway of our new place was hop out and run inside, finding the room that had been prepared for him.
His cry of surprise and joy would remain locked in my heart for a long time. I had to blink back tears when I saw the look of shock and pure awe that brought a smile so wide to his cute little face that I had to hold back my own reaction.
