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Braxton Ranger:{contact sent}
I open the contact to see the name Emberleigh with a picture of a stunning blonde holding a precious baby. This isn’t a business contact, it’s Braxton’s personal one. That says more than he knows.
Emberleigh:Thank you!! I’ll reach out tomorrow. Can’t wait to meet you.
It’s three in the morning here. It’s an hour earlier there and both of them responded. I hope that’s because they’re excited or relieved and not because they expect me to be available at all hours.
Me:Looking forward to it. Good night.
I call Kyle up onto the bed. It’s hot out, and he prefers the floor in the summer months, but he does as I ask and curls into my side, taking the scratches I can offer within my reach.
“Well, my good boy, I did a thing. It’s something we can undo if we need, but be patient with me, okay?”
He says nothing… such a great listener.
“We’re doing the right thing. And we’ll be together. And you like Layton.”
He rolls, giving me more access, at least in his mind. In real life, he gives me different access, not more, but that’s okay. When he rolls even farther, it’s deep into my side and his breathing gets heavy, providing a gentle rhythm for me, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I wake and head to the beach. I said yes to doing the right thing. I’ve agreed to uproot a life I love. My gut knows it’s the right decision, and my heart is at peace.
My brain needs to get on board. That’s made harder by the gorgeous sunshine bouncing off the rolling waves. I should’ve asked where in Texas I’ll be going. The chance that those rolling green acres are beachside is slim to none. I’ll need to find some water.
I spend a few extra minutes enjoying the waves. The sound might as well be aural Xanax.
My Zen is ruined by the sound of barking. Kyle is alerting, and he’s not playing. I hop up and dash across the street, barely taking the time to clear for traffic. My front door is wide open. The screen door leaves complete visibility to inside. A man wields a knife, the glint of the blade reflecting sunlight behind me.
I hear a wail, one that tells me Kyle has been hurt, and I see red. There is no coherent thought, no strategy, only instinct.
I leap onto the back of the man as his arm rears back to slash or stab again, and I take an elbow to the eye, nearly making me lose my grip. My scream startles Kyle who I can hear whimpering and see lunging with his jaws wide open.
“Agh.” I hear from the man as I pull against his neck and tug at his hair. I may be small, but no man touches Kyle without dealing with me.
He flicks against me as if I’m a gnat, trying to shoo me away with the hand with the knife. It nicks my arms and hands. He slices his ear when he tries to slash out at me and I take that opening to do what I must. Not what I want to… what I have to.
I grab the shell of his ear where the blood blooms and make every effort to tear. It’s slippery and messy, and my hand slides in the blood, unable to get the grip to do real damage.
The assailant flails, still trying to shake me off. He rears back with the knife, aiming for Kyle, a plunge that would no doubt kill him. I scream and claw at his ear with one hand while thrashing my other at his face.
In a last-ditch effort, I extend my leg to block the blow to Kyle, take a knife to the shin in the most excruciating physical pain of my life. And I know pain.
I refuse to go limp. My cheek is swelling, and I struggle to look above it, refusing to gaze at the metal still embedded in my leg.
By the time the man whirls and flies out the door, I’m out of adrenaline and bravado. I drop to my ass, hitting my tailbone hard, rolling to my side to see Kyle. He lays now, whimpering, blood beginning to seep and tries to drag his belly to me.
“Stay, baby,” I coo as the tears fall. Stay.
I stand, yank the knife from my leg, wishing I’d never experienced this kind of pain. Not knowing anything could hurt this much. And I’ve had periods that would immobilize a man three times my size.
I grab my keys and my phone and a can of spray pain reliever. “Come, boy. Come.”
Kyle rises, limping and follows me outside and into the car. I spray antibiotic pain reliever on his wound, and he howls. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I’m sorry, sweet boy. Stay with me, Kyle.”I can’t lose youI don’t add.
I drive with my left foot, my right leg unable or unwilling to cooperate, to the vet and dial them on my way.
“Arabel Veterinary Clinic, how may I—”
“It’s Livy. I’m bringing Kyle in. I think he was stabbed. He’s losing blood. I’ll need help. Pulling in now.”
