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“Not tonight, sweetheart.” I’d already leashed up Lucky and wasn’t about to undo it.
I touched his nose. “Ready?”
He stamped his feet in approval, and I smiled, temporarily forgetting everything but the dogs. It was nice to have something else to focus on.
I waved to the doorman as we exited the building onto the sidewalk. It was still hard to believe the old Grey Paws location in Chelsea had burned. Thank goodness Daniel Elliott had so generously given them a place to go.
“Good evening, miss,” he said kindly.
Lucky sniffed his pocket, then pranced past when there was nothing of interest in it. He went to the left as if he knew where he was headed, and I was more than happy to let him lead.
“Are you determined not to heal?”
I jolted at Cal’s voice from behind. Lucky took that as a sign to go faster. The greyhound bolted to the corner, dragging me behind like a rag doll. Thank God I had on flats. It was all I could do to keep upright.
“Lucky!”
He stopped before the street and sat, looking up at me with big eyes. His tongue was out, but he wasn’t panting.
Meanwhile, my arm felt like it had been pulled out of the socket and I could hardly breathe.If I’d have lost this dog, I’d never forgive myself.
Cal grabbed the leash.
“I’ve got it,” I said, refusing to let go.
“Looks like it.” He kept his grip firm around the rope.
Lucky looked back and forth between us, uncertain.
“You’re scaring him.”
“Give me the damn leash before you break your neck.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
He pulled. “Helping a friend.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“I was talking about Teague.”
Had my brother called him too? Maybe I didn’t have much experience with dogs, but he could count on me. It hurt a little if he thought I needed backup.
“Right now, you’re not helping.” I tightened my grip on the leash.
“Because you’re being stubborn.” He pried my fingers loose. “I swear you have the will of a bull.”
“And you have the temperament of one,” I muttered, annoyed he now held the leash.
Instead of taking off with Lucky, he reached for my hand. It was dark, but he held it up to a streetlight with the gentlest of touches. “Still swollen,” he said more to himself than to me.
Eleven years ago, this man had cast me aside like I’d meant nothing to him. I’d never really known what heartbreak felt like until that moment. But being spurned and told we were just temporary fun had shattered me. Perhaps it had eventually also made me stronger. More resilient. But I’d never forgotten his words, nor the pain I’d lived with for months afterward. And yet, now, as if he felt he still had the right—as if I meant something to him—he acted like it was the end of the world because I had an injured hand. Those two things didn’t mesh.
It was a lot easier to keep control when he was only using me for something physical just the way I was him. And physical didn’t include tender touches.
Lucky stamped his paws with a look likeare we walking or not?
Cal released me with a dissatisfied grunt. “Are you up for this?”
