AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know I’ve been keeping a distance,” I admitted. “I owe you an apology for not being as supportive as I should have been while you were sobering up.”
Mum huffed in exasperation. “You don’t owe me anything, Callum. Least of all an apology. I’m the one who owes you over thirty years’ worth of those. I just hope you won’t let our differences affect your future. Don’t hold my past behavior against London—or anyone else.”
I frowned. Was that what I’d been doing? Holding Mum’s actions against innocent people whose personality quirks happened to bring back bad memories? I didn’t like to think so. It was more that I had a habit of being more cautious of welcoming those people into my life, but then, wasn’t that pretty much the same thing?
“I’ll try not to,” I said. “But it’s difficult sometimes.”
“I know, baby.” Her smile was full of guilt. I wished I could erase that guilt, but I knew that forgiveness was a process, and self-forgiveness even more so. It would take time to heal on both our parts.
“Perhaps we could set a regular weekly chat time?” I suggested. “Maybe on a weeknight, so it doesn’t interfere with our weekend plans.”
Her smile widened and brightened. “I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a date.” I stood and pulled her in for a brief hug. Images flashed through my mind of Mum lying semi-conscious on the floor, smelling of booze, or arriving to collect me from school fall-down drunk, but I blinked them away and concentrated instead on the more gentle, steady presence she’d been since she’d gotten sober. We couldn’t wipe the slate clean, but we could certainly do our best to rebuild our relationship.
But first, I needed to visit London. I owed her an explanation and an apology.
10
LONDON
Nothing could curea case of the mopes more quickly and effectively than a dog. The first of the shelter’s inhabitants had been delivered a couple of hours ago, from a pound that didn’t have capacity to hold them but hadn’t wanted to euthanize the poor things. Here, they could stay until I found them loving new homes. Work on the kennels had been completed last week, and a series of fenced runs were attached to cozy wooden homes so the dogs could cuddle inside during cool weather and frolic on the grass during the day. Part of the reason I’d wanted to build this place was so the dogs who visited wouldn’t have to be surrounded by concrete all the time.
The first new arrival, a border collie named Patches, had been taken in after his owner had passed away, with no other relatives willing to take on the dog. Patches was currently carrying a plush bear from one end of his enclosure to the other, looking pleased with himself.
In the adjoining kennel was my other new lodger, a tan-colored bull terrier no more than a few months old, who’d been captured as a stray. I’d named him Billy, and had paid to have him neutered and vaccinated before he’d been delivered this morning. Billy was more timid than Patches, and I watched with interest to see how they’d adjust to each other’s presence. I had a large, shared play area I’d like to let them use together, for socialization, but I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t attack before letting them loose.
I let myself into Patches’ enclosure. He trotted over and dropped the bear at my feet. I patted behind his ear, then picked up the bear and tossed it. He was off like a bullet, grabbing the toy and returning it to me expectantly. Through the wire, Billy edged closer, watching us with interest. I doubted anyone had played with him before, and the thought made my heart squeeze. I hated to see dogs get treated badly when they gave their own love and affection so freely.
“London!”
I flinched at the sound of my name and looked around, spotting Cal approaching across the lawn that separated the kennels from the house. My pulse leaped. I wasn’t sure what to make of the way his mum had let it drop that Cal preferred women who were more like him. I suppose my ego had been bruised, but I was perhaps being a bit sensitive because of my history with Donovan and my parents, and the fact that no one seemed to think I was capable of being a success on my own. But being disorganized didn’t mean I couldn’t make something of myself. After all, look at these little guys. They had a chance to find a new family because of what I’d done, and that meant something.
Cal arrived at the kennels and squatted beside Patches’s enclosure. The border collie went over to investigate, and Cal patted his nose through the wire.
“Are these the ones you mentioned yesterday?” he asked.
“They are,” I confirmed. “That’s Patches. He’s four. Great with kids and cats. All ready to go straight to a new home. This fellow”—I gestured so he’d look next door—“is Billy. He’s a bit shy and will need more one-on-one time with people and other dogs before he’s ready to be adopted.”
“Dogs aren’t my specialty, but they both look healthy.” Cal straightened. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. Just make sure to latch the gate behind yourself.”
He entered the enclosure and bent to give Patches some love before focusing his attention on me. “I’m sorry for how last night ended.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
He met my eyes. “But I want to explain anyway.” His lips pressed into a line. “Like Mum said, she’s an alcoholic. When I was growing up, I often felt like I was forced to be the responsible one because she couldn’t do basic stuff like remember to cook dinner, wash the laundry, or put gas in the car. I swore that I’d had enough of taking care of someone else for a lifetime and that I wouldn’t be with someone who’d expect me to take on the same role in their life. That’s why I’ve usually dated organized women in the past.””
“I see.” I considered his words carefully. “So you think someone like me, who’s never on time and could trip over a flat surface, would need you to be responsible on their behalf?”
“I used to,” he admitted. “But in my mind, Mum’s addiction became wrapped up with those characteristics, and I never stopped to realize that people with those traits can still be functioning adults. With you, I see that. You don’t need me to take care of you.” He motioned at our surroundings. “Just look at what you’ve accomplished all on your own.”
One side of my mouth hitched up in a half smile. “Thanks, it means a lot to hear that. Many of the other people I’ve spent time with have made me feel like I can’t stand on my own. When I set out to open this place, I thought I’d be showing them they were wrong about me, but I’ve realizedIneeded to see that more than anyone else. And now I do.”
He stepped closer. His warm palms cupped my hips. “So, do I get a second date?”
I moistened my lips, which suddenly felt dry. “And a third, hopefully.”
