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“Okay,” I say softly, eyes stinging.
Because Steve is okay.
Because this man dropped everything to come help me.
Because Lake made the call in the first place.
And because…my sister is still sitting inside the front door, her gaze on me.
Pleading, even from a distance. Calculating, even from a distance.
My stomach churns, and not in a good way. I’ve always known she was selfish—it’s hard not to be when we grew up as we did. The urge to hoard anything that feels good, any love and care and kindness shown to us. It’s…a ravenous beast that’s never satisfied, always wanting more and more and more.
Shealways wants more.
I…I just find mymoreby hitting the road and searching out—
Snore!
Something I haven’t figured out yet.
I tear my gaze from my sister, turn back to my pup and the vet, and help Jer pack up, thanking him as we move toward the door.
He smiles, nods toward the brooding hockey player shooting arrows from his eyes toward my ex and my sister. “Thank Lake,” he says. “I’ll never turn down free tickets to the Sierra. In fact”—he looks around—“you don’t have a cat I can help? Or a guinea pig? A bearded dragon?” He waggles his brows. “Then I canreallyturn the screws on Lake.”
For the first time since George showed up, I feel like smiling. “No,” I say. “I just have the one pet.”
“Thank God,” Ashley mutters and I glare at her then focus on the scene outside the large window behind my sister, see George standing by a large black SUV with flashing lights on top.
George, who hurt my pet.
George, who hurtme.
“Damn,” Jer says lightly.
I focus back on him, try to think of something to say, and settle on, “I think you might be able to trade tickets for a couch.”
Jer’s mouth twitches and he taps his temple. “I like the way you think.”
“Can I help you carry your stuff out?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine. Stay in here where it’s warm.”
I force a smile, one he sees right through if his eyes gentling as he reaches in and squeezes my hand is any indication. His next words confirm it. “Your pup is okay, and I think with Lake at your side, you will be okay too.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
But he’s wrong.
Lake isn’t at my side.
He’s made that quite clear.
Another squeeze and Jer’s gone, walking out the door, pausing next to the heavy-duty SUV that has made it through the snow, its bright headlights illuminating the scene. There’s also a gathering of snowmobiles, several other members of the sheriff’s department having congregated in Lake’s driveway.
They’re all standing around and talking while George is handcuffed and forced to stand out in the cold.
I don’t feel bad.
