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I shake my head, a chuckle slipping past my lips. “It’s like everything else in life. You struggle at first, and then it becomes second nature.”
“That’s true, but...”
She trails off as I walk toward her, stopping only when we’re face to face. Almost chest to chest. “Gabriella, answer my questions. What were you thinking about in the car that had you so lost inside your head?” I cup her face with my right hand, thumb caressing her jaw. “Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”
“It’s nothing like that...” she swallows hard, eyes becoming a slightly darker shade of green “...it’s silly, I swear.”
“Tell me.”
“Can’t a girl have secrets?”
“She can when I know it doesn’t involve her safety, Gabriella. That’s something I’ll never gamble on.”
“I have nightmares, Theodore.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah.” Again, she blushes while attempting to duck her head but I don’t allow her to. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Never with me.
“Go on, beautiful. I’m here to listen and will never judge you.”
Gabriella takes in a deep breath and nods, letting it out slowly after. Her eyes are on mine. “I’ve been having the craziest dreams for a year now and it’s always the same, or lately, a variation of it.” When I don’t say anything, she takes that as a sign to continue. “Same room. Same house. The same voice asking me questions or talking to me as if we know each other intimately, and yet, last night, nothing. Without taking my sleeping medication, I literally passed out and just slept, and Theodore, for the first time in a long time, I feel rested. Truly rested.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“That’s an amazing thing, and what I was thinking about on the drive.” Before I can reply, there’s a sudden crash upstairs and the sound of something heavy falling over. Those innocent eyes widen, and I take off before she can attempt to do the same. Mr. Pickles is barking, his little growls not intimidating in the least, but I’ll give the guy credit for bravado.
Footsteps follow me up the stairs and onto the landing, but before she can attempt to move past me, I place a hand on her stomach. “Wait here.”
“Are you crazy, that’s my dog and—”
“Gabriella, I’m not asking. We don’t know what’s in there, so wait here.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but the situation hits home for her. We don’t know what or who is here, and I’d rather she stay out here where it’s safe. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t let anything happen to my dog.”
“He’ll always be safe with me.” When she gives me her nod, I follow the sound of her dogs bark inside the last room on this floor. His body’s half in the room and half out, his yips a little funny, but I understand once I’m at the door. “Oh, buddy. You’re in trouble now.”
The culprit is none other than her dog and a paint can, the latter splattered all over the floor of what looks to be her home studio. The shade is bright blue and has stained him, leaving little paw prints on the wood and when she steps beside me, I feel bad for him.
“Mr. Pickles!” she yells out, causing him to stop and look up with the most pathetic eyes I’ve ever seen on an animal. “What did I tell you about touching my experiment jar? This is the third time, dude, and now it’s bath time before a timeout.”
And bath time sets him off, the little shit running off and disappearing down the hall and into another room.
Gabriella isn’t happy, huffing while walking past me. “I swear, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. My life was never so exciting before, and I miss the quiet.”
“The joy of pets.”
“Is this why you don’t have any?” She grabs a bottle of some cleaning solution and sprays the area, nearly drenching it before grabbing an old towel from the same place. Gabriella wipes it down, and the frown on her face while mumbling about her dog is quite cute.
“My pets can’t be housed like domesticated ones can be.”
Her hand pauses its cleaning action, and her head turns toward me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m the private owner of a conservation outside of the country that houses the largest collection of exotic animals in the world. These are animals that were once pets and when the owners couldn’t afford the maintenance or the city demanded they get rid of them, I took them in.”
“You’re kidding,” she asks, her mess on the floor now forgotten.
“Not at all.”
