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She cupped my face. "Oh, Wes, you did what you needed to heal. I would never hold that against you."
Great, now I was tearing up.
Thankfully, Dad limited himself to a quick handshake shoulder bump—no emotion there.
My 4Runner is waitingfor me in the long-term parking lot. I didn't want to rely on anyone to pick me up. Kai should be back, but the chance of him arriving sober is slim to none—especially after spending two weeks with his family. I won't risk his or my life to save money.
Halfway through town, I come to the intersection that leads to King's house. Hesitating one second, I set the turn signal and wait for the light to change. Logic screams at me to keep going, go home, go to bed, drink myself to sleep if needed. I can't. The last time I drove down her street was when I slept in front of her place, avoiding home. I probably would've been back sooner—had I been capable of driving in the evenings.
It comes into view, and I stare at the two empty parking spots. I don't know what I was expecting. King took the Jeep with her, and Mags is at The Grizz.
Why do I care?
I'm almost past when I notice movement on the patio. I hit the brakes and reverse to get a better look. What the—?
I open the door and get out. "Echo!"
The dog's head whips around. Recognizing me, she takes off running. I kneel just as she slams into me, and I fall ungracefully on my ass—right into a pile of snow. Echo sits on my chest, covering me in dog saliva, and I laugh. Arriving in Stonebriar, I was cold and tired as fuck. Now, I'm wet and cold, yet my insides are warm.
I hug Echo close to my chest. "I missed you, too, girl."
She nuzzles her snout to my cheek and gives me one more lick.
"Off," I order her, and she instantly follows my command. A pang of pain slashes through my heart as I remember the afternoon King taught me how to use my voice to emphasize what I want Echo to do. She had explained that anyone could look up dog commands, but there is so much more to it. It's how you use them that makes a dog—your dog—follow you. Echo sits down next to me as I climb to an upright position. Glancing between Echo and the house, I ask, "What are you doing outside?"
I approach the front door, wiggling the knob. It's locked—the fuck?
I make my way to the side, noticing that the gate is open. Rounding to the back, I find a new addition to the patio door—a doggy door. Extra large to accommodate Echo.
"Why did King not take you?" I peer down at her, and she stares into my eyes as if to say, "Where is Mom?"
I lean down and scratch Echo's head. "I wish I knew, girl."
Echo huffs.
"I miss her, too."
Neither of us should, though.
She lied to me and abandoned Echo.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
They toldme I wouldn't be this exhausted until the third trimester. Well, fuck all of them. Whoever spewed that bullshit didn't work two jobs at the time or have to be on their feet for twelve hours straight after puking for an hour every morning. Working at the diner has become my version of hell. Food aversions are legit. Who knew you could start retching by looking at the color green. And, of course, every other person wants a freaking salad. Or my newest form of gag-inducing torture: kale smoothies. They're green and already look like someone threw them up.
Fuck my life!
The temperature in this damn state is also proving my point. It's March, and according to the weather asshole on the diner's TV, it's the longest spring heatwave Arizona has experienced in ten-plus years. Just kill me already—figuratively ranting, of course.
I figured it wouldn't be that bad when Gray dumped me here in November. Not literally dumped me, but he didn't stick around for long. He called in a few favors and procured me a studio apartment, furnishings, and a job—more than I expected from him, given his track record.
His connections reach pretty far for a dead man. I guess if you have to remain under the radar wherever you go, you make other undead friends—or criminals.
Gray checks in every other week.
The news of becoming a grandfather had literally shocked him to silence for the remainder of our drive. He didn't mention it again until it was time to look at the apartment.
"This is temporary, baby girl."
