Page 13 of Becoming Family

Lily popped open the rear door of her car, like Hobbs’s request hadn’t been at all weird. She opened the metal cover to the plastic carrier and stepped back. Hobbs poked his head inside the warm interior, where Lily had obviously been running the heater. Only when he was warm did he notice how cold he’d been outside, and only then did he realize Tabitha had worn his shirt home. He kind of liked the idea, even though he shouldn’t. What he should’ve done tonight was respond favorably to all Serena’s flirting and they’d probably be together, in somebody’s bed right now. Instead, Hobbs had watched Tabitha go outside with Trinity and he’d grabbed up Humphrey as an excuse to follow her. Because, he’d told himself, she shouldn’t be outside in the dark, that close to the park, by herself.

Yes. Hobbs had, for inexplicable reasons, used Rhett’s crippled old beagle to steal a kiss from Tabitha on her birthday. A kiss that had blown his mind. But Hobbs didn’t want kisses that blew his mind. Hobbs wanted kisses that led to instant, quick, temporary satisfaction that went away within a couple of months, tops. Now, instead of being in bed with Serena, getting exactly that, he had half his body inside the interior of Clementine’s daughter’s car.

What a weird night.

He peeked into the carrier, but the car was pretty dark. No overhead light had come on and Hobbs had to squint to make out the form of a ginger-colored puppy. Looked like a golden Lab mix, an all-over rusty color. Even the eyes were tawny. Huge paws, like she had a lot to grow into, and a sweet face. She looked exactly like Gemma. She crawled forward and nudged her muzzle in Hobbs’s direction. His heart felt like it tumbled in his chest.

“That’s Gracie.” Lily’s voice came over his shoulder. “She’s a sweetheart. Only six months old but somebody found her in a ditch alongside the road a few weeks ago. She was skinny and so sick she could barely stand.”

“Poor thing.” Hobbs squeezed his eyes closed, then open again, but Gracie was still there, looking so much like Gemma he wasn’t sure he wasn’t in a time warp. He leaned farther in but only saw the one pup. “I don’t see George anywhere.” Hobbs extended his hand. Gracie licked his knuckles just as a sharp hiss came from somewhere inside the carrier. A second later, a pink-faced thing, about the size of a Chihuahua, wrapped its body around Gracie’s shoulders. It had huge gray ears like a bat and eyes the color of the moon. Whatever it was, it wore an orange pet sweater with a jack-o’-lantern on the chest. Hobbs jerked his hand back.

“That—” Lily stepped closer, her voice laced with humor “—is George.”

Hobbs glanced up and saw the laughter sparkling in Lily’s eyes.

“What, exactly, is George?” He peeked back inside and George let out a weird growl. Gracie took it all in stride, whapping her tail and nudging George’s body with her muzzle.

“George is a Sphynx cat. They’re hairless. Or they seem hairless. He actually does have hair. If you touch him, he feels like velvet. But don’t.” Lily shook her head, like Hobbs might actually try to pet the thing. “Don’t try to touch him right now.”

“A hairless cat? No shit.” Hobbs glanced up quickly. “Sorry.”

“You can say ‘shit.’” Lily shrugged. “I’m not five.”

Hobbs took another look at George, and now that he knew George was a cat, Hobbs could see it: a pink, hairless cat, with gray bat’s ears, wearing a Halloween sweater. Well, sure. If he had no hair, he probably got cold, just like Hobbs was. George had settled into a ball right against Gracie’s chest. Gracie laid her head on George’s back. George didn’t shift, despite probably only weighing about ten pounds. Hobbs watched Gracie a moment longer, feeling like he was fifteen years old again and back in Omaha, then closed the door to the pet carrier, followed by the door to the car. “I take it Sphynx cats aren’t friendly.”

“On the contrary,” Lily said. “They’re typically very friendly. In fact, they need a lot of attention and affection. But the night we brought Gracie in, it was late and George was out, hanging around the shelter. We’ve had him for a while. His family dumped him due to ‘allergies.’ George hung around us all night while we took care of Gracie and she’s been stuck to him ever since. He sort of adopted her and she imprinted on him. Gracie is a dog but thinks she’s a cat. She tries to go into the litter with him. She tries to jump up on high things like him. And George allows it. He thinks everyone is going to hurt her. He tolerates me and a couple of the other shelter people, but he acts like this—” she tilted her head toward the car “—to anyone who tries to look at him or Gracie for adoption.”

Hobbs wasn’t sure if that story was funny or sad. “So you’re taking them home? Adopting them?”

“I’m taking them home,” Lily agreed. “I don’t see Mom letting me adopt them. She’ll let them stay while I find someone. I hope.”

“Me, too.” Hobbs felt the cold air suddenly hit him all at once, like it’d reached his bones. The alcohol had burned off and he was beat.

“You okay?” Lily’s tone lowered to a level of concern that didn’t typically match someone of her age. But then, she’d named her pets George and Gracie, for God’s sake.

“Yeah, sure.” Hobbs quickly added, “Gracie reminds me of a dog I had. When I wasn’t much younger than you. Kind of a blast from the past, is all.” Hobbs wasn’t sure he would’ve admitted that to anyone else, but this kid had some serious nonjudgmental vibes, so his guts just spilled out.

Her eyes brightened. “Really? Cool. Maybe you want to adopt them, then.”

“No,” Hobbs said quickly. “I mean...no. I don’t have pets. But no, I also can’t... I can’t...” He trailed off, his excuse sounding empty to his own ears. “I’m not a dog person,” he finished, knowing he sounded lame. “Not anymore. Hey. You better get home before your mom worries.”

“Okay.” Lily opened the driver’s-side door and ducked inside.

“Nice meeting you, Lily.”

“Nice meeting you, too. Good night.”

“Night.” Hobbs waited until she’d backed out before he got in his truck. Good. She was gone and so was the dog, and Hobbs never had to think about Gemma again. He checked his phone, but there were no new messages from Victor. Double good. Maybe his brother had finally, for once in his life, given up and let Hobbs win.

The drive home was short, and by the time Hobbs pulled into the driveway of his old rambler, his head was thick with fatigue. He was so tired his eyes kept crossing and it took him more than a few seconds to get his keys in the lock. The foyer was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen, where the bulb over the stove popped on automatically once the sun went down. He thought about just going right upstairs to bed, but decided a tall glass of water was in order after all that tequila. He went into the kitchen and had just opened the cupboard and had his hand around a drinking glass when the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Somebody was there.

Hobbs turned, his gaze searching the living room, a pit of shadows just off the kitchen. A silhouette filled the armchair in front of the TV. With his pulse slamming in his neck, Hobbs had just reached for the drawer where he kept the knives when the lamp on the end table clicked on.

“Hey, little brother.” Victor’s voice was deep and unhurried, like a hunter who knew he had his prey trapped in his sights. “Long time no see.”

Dearest Ty,

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