Chapter 6: Bring Me Back: Chapter 6

“How are you with loud noises?”

“Fine, I guess.” I scrunch my nose. “Why?”

The owner of the animal shelter, Sadie, grimaces. “When I open the next door, all the dogs start barking. It can be really overwhelming.” She leads me down a short hallway. “The dogs either get excited or agitated when they see someone. Some can be really aggressive. Poor things have been through so much.”

I frown. “I hate that a place like this even has to exist.”

“Better than living on the streets.”

“True.”

Sadie swings open the door, and my shoulders jump up to my ears. She wasn’t kidding about the noise. The barking ranges from high pitch yapping to larger dogs with deep bass, mixed with sad howls. Floor-to-ceiling chain-link gates line the room. Some dogs look like they haven’t had a meal in months, while others are missing patches of hair.

“I wish I could take them all home.”

Sadie heaves a sigh. “I think about it every night when I clock out of here.” She points to the far end of the room. “That’s where your crew is. I kept each litter in the same cage because they’re so young. A litter needs to keep each other company.”

When we stop, I crouch down, linking my fingers through the first gate. “Oh my god. They’re adorable.”

Playful puppies tumble over each other, wrestling and nibbling on whatever they can get their little teeth on.

“These are Labs. There are Malteses and Yorkies over there.” I follow her finger as she rattles off the different breeds. “Beagles, Dachshunds, and over in the last stall are the Pits. Those will likely be the first to go.”

My eyes widen as I push to stand. “What? Why?”

“Everyone wants the small, cute dogs. Pit bulls are commonly used for fighting, and they have a stigma surrounding them. The dangerous ones get euthanized immediately.”

I head to the pit bull cage, and my heart thunders in my chest. “How can these guys be dangerous? They’re so cute.”

“They get big, and they’re strong. They get a bad rap.”

“Look at that one.” I point to the puppy curled up in the corner. He has a black body with a white face. “His nose is in the perfect shape of a heart.”

Sadie laughs. “You’re right.”

“Why isn’t he playing with his brothers and sisters?”

“He’s a lot smaller than them. He looks like the runt of the litter.”

The corners of my mouth turn down. “So, they won’t play with him because he’s smaller?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the animal kingdom’s way of weeding out the weak ones.”

My lips part in surprise. “Can I… am I allowed to hold him?”

“I can let you in for a bit. But I don’t recommend getting too attached. It only makes it that much harder.”

A lump rises in my throat when I step inside the concrete space. The puppies swarm me as soon as Sadie closes the gate behind me, and I laugh as I bend down to pet them. “Easy, easy. You’re trampling each other.”

I approach the tiny dog trembling in the corner, and his black eyes are locked on me. I press my back against the wall and slide down beside him. The tip of his tail looks like it was dipped in white paint, but it’s matted and missing hair in places. It wiggles furiously as I reach over to pet him.

“I see that tail wagging. Come here.” I scoop him up in my hands, and his tongue sneaks out to lick my nose. “You’re a little lover boy, aren’t you?” I snuggle his small body into the crook of my neck. He lets out a big sigh and nuzzles his nose against my skin.

“You’re lonely, huh?” I stroke his matted fur and close my eyes. “I’m kind of a runt like you in a lot of ways. Sometimes I think we’re not made for a world like this.”

His brothers and sisters climb all over me, trying to get into my lap. But I give them a gentle nudge and push them on their way. This runt needs some extra attention.

Sadie laughs when she comes back to check on me after a while. “Looks like you made a friend.”

“How could anyone harm these babies? They’re so innocent and helpless.”

“We try our best to find them good homes, but there’s just not enough out there.”

I rest my cheek against the puppy’s body, squeezing my eyes shut.

The doorbell rings, and I wipe my palms on my pants before opening the door.

Out of all the encounters I’ve had with James, this one is different. It’s planned, and I don’t know what to expect. I’ve seen the authoritative asshole side of him, the worried brother, and the quiet, brooding side.

I swing open the door. “Right on time.”

“I live next door. It’d be pretty pathetic if I was late, don’t you think?”

The ends of his hair look slightly damp, like he took a shower before he came, and his fresh scent surrounds me as he steps inside the house.

His eyes scan the walls. “You did good with the spackling.”

I give him a triumphant smile. “I found a good YouTube video. It was pretty easy.”

“Why not hire someone to do the renovations?”

“I like doing it myself. It keeps me busy.” I take the two shopping bags from his hands. “So, what are we cooking tonight?”

“Shrimp and rice. It’ll be quick for you to throw together on your own.”

“Quick is good.” I side-eye him as I set down the bags on the countertop in the kitchen. “Thank you for taking the time to teach me.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Well, it is to me. I appreciate it.”

He moves around my kitchen with confidence and ease. He doesn’t ask where anything is; he just rummages and takes what he needs. I stand back and watch, thoroughly enjoying my view for the night. He pushes up the sleeves of his black thermal, putting his strong forearms on display, and he’s wearing those damn gray sweatpants again.

He sets a pan on the burner. “So, how bad would you say you are in the kitchen?”

“On a scale from one to grease fire, I’d say I’m a solid four. I’m not going to burn the house down or anything, and I know the basics.” I shrug. “But I also haven’t enjoyed anything I’ve made in the past. It never tasted good.”

“Well, this recipe is pretty basic. The worst thing you can do is overcook the shrimp, but that won’t be a problem for you if you follow my directions.” He jerks his chin. “Come stand here.”

I inch closer, but it’s apparently not where he wants me because he grips my hips and moves me until I’m standing in front of him, sandwiched between the stove and his body.

The rumble of his voice in my ear sends goose bumps rolling over my skin. “Pour the oil onto the pan, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I tip the bottle of olive oil over the pan and wait for his signal. “Shouldn’t I measure it so I know how much to use?”

“No.” He takes the bottle from my hand and sets it on the counter. “You just need enough to coat the pan. Now turn on the burner and set the flame to medium.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “You’re bossy.”

“I prefer .”

I snort. “Of course you do.”

James coaches me through the next steps and I try to focus on what he’s saying, but he’s surrounding me and guiding my hands, making it hard to think straight. I can’t promise I’m going to remember any of these directions.

Once the shrimp is in the pan, I step to the side and busy myself with the bag of frozen rice. “I went to the animal shelter today.”

His eyebrows lift. “Really?”

“I wanted to see the dogs you rescued. They were so cute.” My lips tug downward. “It was sad seeing them in there.”

He nods and turns his attention to the shrimp. “We’re looking for the scumbags who were breeding them.”

“I hope you catch them, and the judge throws the book at them.” I splay my palm on my chest. “There was this adorable black-and-white pit bull with a tiny heart-shaped nose, and he really wasn’t bonding with his brothers and sisters. He was just cowering in the corner. Sadie called him the runt of the litter. He was such a little lovebug. I could’ve held him forever.”

“You held him?”

“I couldn’t not hold him. He’s so tiny and sweet, and he just needs love. He doesn’t deserve to be in there, getting ignored by his family members.”

“Shrimp only need a couple of minutes on each side, so you’ll flip them in another minute.” He hands me a fork. “Are you really going to plan an adoption event?”

“Sadie gave me the phone number of this agency that finds foster homes for the dogs until they get adopted. I have a meeting with them tomorrow.”

“Will you adopt one?”

I shake my head, staring down into the pan. “I need to focus on myself right now. Get back on my feet. Plus, I have my hands full with the renovations here.”

“Get back on your feet after what?”

Regret spikes through my veins. “Uh, you know, my family and I had a falling-out so it’s been tough coming back from that.”

total He’s quiet as he watches me flip the shrimp, as if those honey-colored eyes can see right through my lies.

I keep the conversation going so he doesn’t have time to question me. “Have you ever owned a dog?”

He nods. “She died a week after my mom. She was old, but she wasn’t sick or anything. I think she missed my mom too much.”

Without thinking, I reach out and clasp his hand. “I’m so sorry you lost your mom. It really sucks.”

He blinks down at our contact, and his jaw flexes. “After she died, Leo went off the deep end. He’d always been reckless, but his drug use became less recreational, and more of a necessity. I left my apartment and moved back home to be with my dad. He was in pretty bad shape. I tried to get a handle on my brother, but…” He shrugs. “I’m still afraid we’ll lose him, and my father won’t be able to take it.”

“Addiction is a tricky thing. You can only do so much.”

His eyes flick to mine. “Leo said he feels like you get him.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “I think I do.”

“Why is that?”

“When you have darkness inside you, it helps you recognize darkness in others.”

His thumb strokes my hand, an idle motion I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing. “Why do you have darkness in you?”

“I think we’re all born with it. It’s like the alcoholic gene that only comes out if you’re in the right kind of environment.”

His eyebrows press together. “What kind of environment were you in?”

I’m saying too much… or he has too many questions. Either way, I need to steer him away from this conversation.

I pull back my hand and let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, officer. That’s enough interrogation for one night. I think the shrimp are done.”

“I don’t mean to pry. I’m just… trying to get to know you.”

“Why?” The question comes out before I have time to stop it.

His eyes bounce between mine like he’s searching for the answer, and the truth smacks me in the face. He doesn’t really to get to know me. He just feels bad for me. That’s what this is. Pity. He’s a helper, and he wants to help anyone who seems like they need it. And I guess I look pathetic enough to need it.

I swallow down my embarrassment. “Look, I appreciate your help with the meal. You can go now.”

His head jerks back. “You want me to leave?”

“I’m just saying, you wanted to help and now you’re done. You don’t have to stay. I’m good.”

He shuts the burner and turns to face me. “What just happened? We were talking, and now you’re telling me to get out. Did I say something to offend you?”

I press my thumb against the scar on my wrist and dig my nail into the raised skin. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I can just Google a recipe when I’m hungry.”

He shakes his head and grabs the pan handle. He scoops the shrimp out of the pan and pours them over the rice. He sets the pan back down on the stove, and I wait for him to leave, to make his way into the hallway and go back to his house. But he opens each cabinet door until he finds the plates and pulls out two. He brushes past me and sets them on the table. Then he carries the bowl of shrimp and rice to the table and sets it down between the two plates.

“Come on.” He pulls out a chair. “Let’s eat.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Stop telling me what I don’t have to do,” he cuts me off. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Now sit.”

Warmth pools in the pit of my stomach and spreads out into the rest of my body. “Okay, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

“

sounds better, but we’ll work on that.”

I bite back a smile as I take a seat at the table and start eating.

“This is so good, James.” I shove another forkful into my mouth. “Like, ridiculously good.”

“Now you can make it any time.”

“I don’t think it’ll come out like this.”

He tilts his head. “You don’t believe in yourself much, do you?”

I shrug and swallow. “I do when I’m good at something.”

“You can be good at anything if you believe in yourself.”

I chuckle. “You sound like my therapist.”

His fork stops moving. “You see a therapist?”

My stomach clenches, but I refuse to be embarrassed about it. “Yeah. It helps. I think everyone should see one at some point in their lives.”

He nods, gazing down at his plate.

“You’ve got darkness inside you too, you know. I saw it the night you kicked Leo’s ass on my front lawn.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you are. Not with me at least. I know how heavy it gets carrying around that weight all the time.”

“I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”

“I’m used to being alone.”

My heart breaks at those words, because I know how lonely life can be when you’re destined to be alone. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be.”

He pins me with his hard stare. I can feel the emotion radiating off him, the things he’s keeping inside and too ashamed to share. I can see it all burning behind his eyes.

Then he asks, “Why did you have a falling-out with your family?”

I inhale, long and slow, thinking of how to navigate this question. “I don’t think my mom wanted to have me so soon after my brother, and I think I ruined her plans. That’s the way she’s always treated me. Like I was a nuisance.”

“And your brother? How did she treat him?”

“They tried for my brother, so she always wanted him. He’s the golden child.” A sad smile touches my lips. “I always looked up to him. He knew what he wanted; he knew who he was.”

James takes a sip of water and sets down his cup. “You don’t feel like you know who you are?”

I shrug, pushing the shrimp around my plate with my fork. “My mother wishes I were someone else.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I pause. “I know who I am. I’m just not anything special. Not like my brother.”

His grip on the glass tightens, and his eyes narrow. “You don’t have to be like your brother to be special. Everyone’s different.”

“Tell that to my mother.”

“Screw what she thinks.”

I laugh. “Yeah, screw her.”

“I bet your dad thought you were something special.”

I lift my eyes to meet his. “He was the best person I’ve ever known.”

James is quiet for a moment. “I think my brother was my mom’s favorite.”

“How so?”

“He was funny. He got all the attention.” He swipes at the condensation on his glass. “I was shy and responsible, and I followed the rules. He was more… outgoing.”

“Like you said, you’re both different. Nothing wrong with that.”

He nods. “She would always tell me that I needed to look out for him. Protect him. The only thing he needs protecting from is his own damn self.”

“I can see that.”

“So, what happened between you and your mom?”

A stabbing pain pierces my heart as the memory replays in my mind. “Shit was building between us since my dad passed, and we fought a lot.” I swallow hard. “The last time I saw her, she said I was dead to her.”

James frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

I look down at my lap. “No, it’s not.”

“Sounds like you’re better off here.”

“It has definitely been interesting with your family around.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome.”

I lift my glass between us. “Here’s to fucked-up families.”

He clinks his glass against mine. “And to new neighbors.”

“New neighbors who can cook.”

It’s quiet while we finish eating, each of us off in our own heads. James stays to help clean up even though I told him not to. He washes while I dry, and we remain in comfortable silence. My nerves have dissipated since our talk over dinner, and I’m enjoying his company more than I expected to. When he makes his way to the front door to leave, I almost ask him to stay and hang out some more. But I lose my nerve.

He pulls out his phone from his pocket. “Let’s exchange numbers, and I’ll let you know the next time I’m free to come by for another lesson.”

I type out my number and hand back his phone, and he does the same with mine. “Thanks again for tonight. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than to teach me how to cook.”

“Don’t say that.” He steps out onto the porch and turns to face me. “Being with you is time well spent.”

Butterfly wings flap against my rib cage, and I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

The corner of his mouth twitches before he trots down the stairs. “Good night, Phoenix.”

I shoot him a text:

I swear I see him crack a smile when he reads it before he goes inside his house.