Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Maybe a man was mean to her when she was a baby,” he says, sobering. “Animals are like people that way. If someone hurts them when they’re little, the memories can stick around and mess them up later.”
My heart aching for this earnest kid, who sounds like he knows too much about trauma, I nod. “You’re right. I’m not sure what her babyhood was like. My cousin adopted her from a shelter when she was already grown.” I glance down at Freya, who doesn’t seem bothered by the boy, so far. “But you have friendly energy. Try extending your hand, palm up, fingers loose, and let’s see how she does. Her name is Freya, and I’m Tessa.”
“Hey. I’m Zack.” He reaches out, slowly, carefully, a look of awe blooming on his face as Freya sniffs his hand for only a moment before licking the tips of his fingers. “Wow.” He laughs. “That tickles.”
“It means she likes you,” I say, grinning. “Or that you have food on your hand. Maybe both.”
Zack laughs again, relaxing as Freya lets him stroke her head. “She’s amazing. I’m going to get a pet when I graduate and move into my own place. Pets are always happy to see you when you get home.”
I wince in sympathy. Clearly, whatever parental situation he has at the moment is less than fulfilling. Poor guy. “Yeah, you’re almost there. What are you…sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” he says, still focused on petting Freya. “I have a baby face. It’s the chubby cheeks.”
“Wow, yeah. Seventeen. You’ll be a pet-owning adult before you know it. It was nice meeting you, Zack.”
He grins. “Nice meeting you guys, too. Have a great night and enjoy the sandwiches.”
“Will do.” I set Freya on the floor and grab the takeout, knowing I won’t be able to juggle holding her as well as the food.
Back outside, the early evening sun is showing off, making the pink rocks beneath the water gleam like something from another realm, one better than this one, where no kid ever feels unwelcome in their own home.
Situations like Zack’s confirm my belief that we’re alone here on this spinning orb. If there were a higher power looking out for us, it wouldn’t let assholes like Zack’s parents have a child, while so many people who would make lovely parents—or at least not shitty ones—remain infertile.
I’m so busy thinking about Zack and juggling the food and carrier of hot coffee, that I’m not holding Freya’s leash as tightly as I should be. When a man in jogging shorts charges around the corner, yelling something about profit margins into his ear piece, Freya easily tugs out of my grasp.
“Freya no, come back here right now!” I call out, crouching to set the food and drinks on the ground so I can chase after her.
Before I can stand back up—or Freya can reach the shouting guy’s crotch—Wesley sprints up the trail behind the man. His hair is sticking up in all directions and he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow that makes him look a little dangerous in the best way. As he cuts across the grass and leaps into the air, diving in front of the man to grab Freya before my fearless protector can reach her target, a zing rushes through my blood.
“What the fuck?” the man shouts as Wesley rolls across the grass on the other side of the trail, Freya cradled against his chest. “No, not you,” the man barks into the phone before pressing his cell to his stomach and demanding in a none-too-friendly tone, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You almost knocked me down.”
“I’m so sorry, he was just trying to grab our ferret before she jumped on you,” I say, hurrying over, food and coffee in hand. “She’s afraid of loud noises, and—”
“I don’t give a shit,” the man says. “If your animal doesn’t know how to behave in a public space, it shouldn’t be in one. Same goes for the two of you.”
“She said she was sorry,” Wesley says, rising to his feet, a chittering Freya squirming in his hands, begging to be set free to handle this red-faced jerk on her own. “And we truly didn’t mean any harm. It’s a beautiful night, so why don’t we just go our—”
“Shut the fuck up,” the man says, his face flushing a deeper crimson. “Don’t use that fucking ‘calm down’ town with me, asshole. I have every right to be pissed.”
“But she didn’t hurt you,” I say, inserting myself in between Wes and Mr. Roid Rage. “And neither did Wesley. Please, let’s just go our separate ways and be done with it. We don’t even live here, so you’ll never see us again. I promise.”
He grunts and his jaw clenches, but after a beat, he mutters, “Fine, whatever. I’m in the middle of a call anyway.” He starts down the trail, but then turns, shouting back at us, “But keep your animal on a fucking leash. Or next time it attacks someone, it might end up with its head crushed under a boot.”