"You never did before because you didn't meet the right one," Devine pointed out.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Drop it. We got a double-parked vehicle in front of Xpressions. Go do something with your life rather than ride me and write up a damn ticket. The town needs money."
Stone pulled over. Devine studied him, shook his head hard, and muttered something foul. "Whatever, dude. It's your life."
"That's right. My life. My decision."
"It's an asshat decision. Ain't no guarantees for anyone."
Devine climbed out of the car, pulled out his pad, and began to run the plate. Stone stared out the windshield, his mind turning over his friend's words.
LATER THAT NIGHT, HE made his decision.
It didn't take him long to pack up the belongings. A dog bed, some food, her favorite chew toys. She was already wearing the sweater and collar. The fuchsia bling-encrusted leash should be illegal, but it was the perfect length and size, so he kept it.
Pinky raced to the door, sitting quietly, body shaking with excitement. A sick nausea hit his stomach. Damn. He hoped he wasn't getting a virus. Stone forced a smile he didn't feel and knelt down to her level.
"Look, this is going to be for the best. You're gonna be with a real family. Kids, parents who love and take care of you. No one is ever gonna hurt you again, I swear to God. And I'll never forget you."
As if sensing something hidden, Pinky frowned, then trotted close to lick his cheek.
Stone cleared his throat and picked her up. "Let's do this."
By the time he reached her porch, his nausea had gotten worse, until he felt as if he could vomit right there in her bushes. He pushed down the feeling and waited.
She opened the door.
He jerked back. God, why did it feel even worse? Wasn't time supposed to make things better and more in perspective? He drank in her appearance, from her usual yoga pants and T-shirt to her hair scooped in a ponytail. The scents of dinner cooking drifted outside the door. Music came from the background, and he caught Patrick's booming voice as he talked to Mrs. Blackfire.
Panic struck him. He took a few steps back in retreat, not knowing if he could go through with it.
"You really want to do this, Stone?" she asked.
Those beautiful green eyes were devoid of her usual vibrancy. They stared back at him with a flat coldness that stripped away his sanity.
"I'm sorry," he managed to choke out. "I just think it's for the best. She's getting better with other dogs, and I know she'll do well with you. You can get her a real home."
Her gaze narrowed in disgust. "She already has a real home. With you. She loves you."
His stomach roiled. Stone tried to speak, but nothing came out. Bile blocked his throat.
Finally, she released a small, disappointed sigh, shaking her head. "Sorry. I forgot. You don't do love." Arilyn reached out and took a quivering Pinky firmly into her arms. "Come on, baby. Robert's not here, but maybe we'll take a walk to Kate's so you can see him. I promise we'll be okay."
Feeling like he'd been slapped, Stone quietly handed over the equipment. Stepped back.
Pinky seemed to catch the vibe and wiggled in Arilyn's grasp. A low whimper broke from her throat as she swiveled her small ratlike head to gaze imploringly at him.
Please. Don't leave me. I love you.
As if the dog had shouted the words, the sickness rose up and strangled him in a death grip. He turned quickly, trying to take in air, needing to escape, needing to rip off the Band-Aid before he took them both back and damn the consequences.
"Thank you," he muttered. Then, like the coward he truly was, Stone turned and disappeared, the echo of Pinky's whines ripping at his ears.
A WEEK LATER, STONE nursed an IPA at Ray's Billiards. The guys were playing a rowdy game of pool behind him, and the normal dialogue consisting of insults, ribbing, and cursing filled the air. It was familiar. Nice. Of course, they were still pissed at him for giving up Pinky, which was so ridiculous he didn't even know how to defend himself. Dunn still wasn't talking to him. Whatever. He'd done his best.
Still, nothing seemed able to thaw the nugget of ice that had lodged inside his body and refused to go away. Not even his constant mantra that he'd made the right decisions.
Damn, he was tired. Since their breakup, Stone did everything that always previously satisfied him. Lots of drinking and pool and hanging with the guys. He'd gone through the McDonald's drive-through every day. Worked extra shifts, covering for most of the guys until he had a fat OT check deposited in his account. Things had picked up around the holidays, offering him a big drug bust, so for days he'd achieved a contact high from all the weed kept in the evidence locker. Hell, even his house was relaxing. The bed to himself, the television as loud as usual, no dog hair or ridiculous pink items scattered about.
Things were great.
He took another sip of beer.
Yeah, he was falling apart. And he didn't know what to do anymore.
A shadow fell across the bar. He glanced over and took in Patrick's thoughtful expression. Since the breakup, he hadn't heard a peep from him and figured he was avoiding Ray's to keep from punching him in the face. Stone ached for anything to pierce past the numbness.
"Wanna take a shot at me?" he mumbled. "I won't budge."
Patrick raised his hand in greeting to Ray and ordered a Guinness. "Nope."
"I mean it. Let's see what you got, old-timer." Stone slid off the bar stool and faced Arilyn's grandfather. "I deserve it. Punch me."
Patrick laughed and shook his head. "Damn right you deserve it. But no punch is necessary. One look at you gave me all the revenge I ever needed. You look like shit."
"Flatterer."
God, he needed help.
Patrick sipped his beer and remained silent for a while. "Gonna play a round?"
"Nah." Stone waited for him to bring up Arilyn, but the man seemed happy drinking and pondering life. "How are things?"
"Good. The center put on some comedy show. Ended up being pretty decent. They made fun of the old people instead of pussyfooting around stuff. Even Emma laughed, and she's like a corpse."
"And Mrs. Blackfire?"
"She's joining us for Thanksgiving. Finally gave up on the Tree of Spite and promised me she wouldn't give Arilyn crap anymore."
"Great." He waited. Still nothing. "Anything else."
"Nope. What about you? Still taking extra shifts?"
"How is she?"
This time Patrick raised his brow. Gave him a hard stare. Stone took it all, lifting his chin and open to receiving any blistering insult he deserved. He was such a fuckup. He was the one who had broken up with her, yet he was desperate just to hear her name. Sometimes he said it aloud in his empty house. He'd called her damn cell phone from a blocked number, hoping to get her voice mail.
"Surviving," Patrick answered. "She misses you but is pushing forward. Arilyn is a survivor. She'll make it without you just fine."
He muttered a curse under his breath. Took another large gulp of beer. "Yeah. I know. Better this way."
"Actually, no. It's not better. That's just in your screwed-up head. Funny thing is, I get it. I've been there."
"What do you mean?"
Patrick pushed a hand through his silver mane and stared at the wall. Seeing something no one else could. "The damn war. When I got back from Nam I was all sorts of messed up. I watched my buddies explode before me. Kids die. The stench and the heat and the feeling I'd never get out of there alive. War takes something human from you, and it's difficult to get it back. Arilyn's grandmother was the one who had to deal with it all. When things got serious, and I realized I loved her, I did terrible things. I hurt her bad in the name of protection. Told her over and over she was better off with someone whole, someone who could give her what she wanted."
Every muscle tensed, waiting for the rest of the story. "What happened?" he asked.
Patrick gave a sigh. "I sent her away. But she just
kept coming back. It was the damnedest thing. She just took that crap I dealt her and showed up on a regular basis. She knew I loved her, and she decided to stay in it for the long haul. It could've ended up differently, but thank God, something finally broke and I realized I was being an idiot. I'd gone through war. Seen the worst. Why couldn't I also experience the best? Why deny myself a gift of a woman who loved me and my crap?"
He emitted a humorless laugh. "Men are different from women. We put these obstacles and expectations on ourselves, thinking we need to protect and always win the war. Sometimes you just don't. Shit happens. Crime, divorce, and abuse. But I had a choice to try to do my best with the woman I loved. Yeah, I made tons of mistakes. But we were married for thirty-three years before I lost her. Worth it? Hell, yes."
Stone stared at the man across from him, who had the gleam of misty memories in his green eyes, so like his granddaughter's. "You know what, Stone? Sometimes it's not as complicated as you think. If you love her, then just love her. Do your best. Why don't you deserve something great, too? Because Arilyn really doesn't need much from you except for you to try, and be there, and love her back. How's that for expectations?"
The deep freeze that had taken root for over a week suddenly shifted. A sliver of the ice moved, melted, and suddenly the breath that hadn't been there before eased back into his lungs. His heart beat a bit faster. Well, damn. What a concept. How was that for some enlightened Buddha shit?
Just love her back.
He already did. Yeah, it wasn't gonna change his crap, but he had that part covered already.
He loved Arilyn Meadows. Heart and soul. And he loved that damn rat fink dog so much, if he didn't get her back, he was gonna lose it.
As if knowing his emotions were about to implode, Patrick patted him on the back. "Got it?"
Stone shook his head. "Yeah. I got it."
"Good."
"You need a ride back to the center, Patrick? I have to make a call."
"No, go ahead. I'm gonna play a round. Devine will give me a ride."
"Thanks."
Stone fumbled for his phone and headed out the door. The cold air whipped at his face, clearing his head, and without thinking, going on pure impulse, he dialed her number.
One ring. Two. Three.
"Hello?"
"It's me. No, don't hang up!"
The silence spoke volumes. Her usual musical voice was flat. "What do you want?"
"I want Pinky back."
The endless words he ached to tell her backed up in his throat until only that one sentence spilled out. Maybe she'd understand what he meant. Pinky was the symbol of everything he wanted but never thought he deserved.
"You want Pinky back. Why?"
"I made a big mistake, Arilyn. Huge. Colossal. I'm coming over to pick her up and talk to you."
"You're drunk, aren't you?"
"No! No, just a bit--not really. I had a few beers. But I'm not drunk."
A small sigh puffed over the phone. "I get it, Stone, I really do. But I can't do this. You get drunk, you feel lonely, you think you can handle it. I've been here before. You miss Pinky's company and the way she adored everything about you, with no concept of asking for anything back except your attention. Trust me, in the morning it'll all come flooding back, and you'll back away again. I lived this dance, and I'm done. I'm sorry. Maybe you were right after all, and we're better off apart. Including Pinky."
His heart now exploded and his body went into junkie-in-need-of-a-fix mode. Sweat poured from his skin, panic settled in his gut, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. "No, please listen to me; it's different than you think. Just let me come over and explain it."
"No! I won't open the door, Stone. You need to go back to the bar and your friends and your life. You'll thank me tomorrow."
"But Pinky--"
"Pinky's gone," she whispered.
No. No, no, no, no. "What do you mean?"
"Anthony is sending her to another shelter to work with a behaviorist. He's an expert in abused animals and thinks they can get her a family. I'm fostering three new dogs who come in a few days. It was the right decision."
"You gave her away?"
An arctic blast exploded into the phone. "No. You gave her away, remember? Please don't call me again."
The phone clicked.
Stone stared at his cell phone. This couldn't be happening. How had he experienced the biggest revelation of his life, yet she wasn't ready to listen to him? Pinky wasn't meant to be with another family or a behaviorist who didn't understand she only liked hamburgers and slept on the right side and preferred peanut butter chewy bones.
Pinky was meant to be with him.
In the middle of a full-fledged panic attack, he closed his eyes and did the only thing possible before completely losing it.
He breathed.
In and out. Feeling the air seep and fill up his lungs with everything good and positive. Then release all the bad toxins and thoughts out into the universe. His body calmed. His mind cleared. And an odd peace settled over him, showing him the only road he had left to take.
ARILYN FINISHED HER MEDITATION and slowly opened her eyes. The screens were down since Lenny and Mike had left, but she'd need to erect them again when her new charges came later that day. She usually enjoyed the hushed quiet that filled the bungalow, but lately it beat with an undercurrent of loneliness she seemed unable to fight.
God, she missed Stone.
Anger hit her full force when she thought of his phone call. Stupid drunken musings. She was well versed in those from Jacob. Jacob, who'd have too many cocktails and get weepy. Who promised to change and begged her forgiveness, only to go back to exactly how things were. The crazy thing? She knew Stone loved her. Yet he'd not only walked away from her without a backward glance, but he'd also walked away from Pinky. The last week with the Chihuahua had been heartbreaking. She waited at the door for Stone to enter, a frozen statue who believed her master would reappear. Arilyn had taken her to Kate's every day to spend time with Robert, who seemed to be the only one to calm her. With genuine love and affection, he'd nudge her with his giant nose, flop down, and allow her to crawl over on his back.
Kate had mentioned adopting her, but Arilyn believed the new behaviorist and a clean slate would give Pinky what she needed.
Trying to swallow past the tightness in her throat, she rolled to her feet, blew out her incense sticks, and strode to the kitchen. It would be a long day at Kinnections, and then she needed to go pick up her new dogs. Ever since opening up more to her friends and her grandfather, she felt better able to cope. Oh, it hurt so bad, sometimes she just lay there clutching her chest. Then it eased, and she reminded herself of all she had to give. She had a full life, and she would have the love she dreamed of. This time, it would be with someone who'd give it all back to her.
The sharp knock on the door interrupted her mental cheerleading. She peeked through the curtain and opened the door. "Hi, Mrs. Blackfire. Everything okay?"
"Yes. Do you have a minute to talk?"
Arilyn frowned. "Sure. I'll make you some tea; I have to leave for work soon."
The walker clicked over the floors and her neighbor settled in her favorite chair by the pine table. "None of that crazy stuff, please. Good old Lipton. Why does it smell like drugs in here?"
Arilyn grinned. "It's incense. Helps to connect the body-mind center through the sense of smell."
"Smells like marijuana to me. Where are the dogs?"
"They don't come till later. Poppy's coming for dinner tomorrow."
"Good, I'll bring dessert this time. I'm baking some Irish soda bread. Your grandfather has an affinity for it, though he eats too much."
"Sounds perfect." She handed her the cup of hot tea and sat down. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Officer Stone Petty. You love him, right?"
She almost dropped the cup. "Umm. Umm. Well, ummm--"
"Yes or no will do, missy."
"Yes. But it won't work. He got spooked and took off. It's over."
"Bah," Mrs. Blackfire spit out. "He'll be back. They always come back. Usually drunk."
This time the cup clattered to the table, spilling tea. "Oh my God, how did you know that?"
"Because I was young once. Before I lost my husband in the war, we played a bit of a chess game ourselves. He didn't want to settle so young. I wanted to get married. We broke up once. He had too many whiskeys and ended up at my front door, begging my forgiveness."
"What did you do?" she asked, fascinated.
"Made him suffer a bit and then took him back. Sometimes you need to be the better one. We have no choice."
Arilyn's shoulders slumped. "I don't know. He gave up Pinky. I don't know if I trust him not to spook again. I just don't think I can do it."
"If you love him, you have to make a decision to give him a second chance. If you think he's the one, you have to take a leap. But first, torture him. It's only fair." She finished her tea in a few unladylike gulps and stood. "I better let you go. I'll see you tomorrow."
She grabbed her walker and headed out.
"Mrs. Blackfire?"
"Yes?"
Arilyn smiled. "Thank you."
Her neighbor scowled. "Just make sure you keep that tree trimmed. It's already leaning way too much to the right."
The door slammed behind her.
twenty-one
I'M HERE TO pick up Pinky."
Anthony stared at him. Blinked. Stone had come in full uniform, because he wasn't fucking around anymore. He laid a sweaty palm over his gun holster and held his gaze with a steely determination.
"Pinky? Didn't Arilyn tell you? We're sending her to Jim, who's our new behaviorist. He'll be working with her from his home, and then a permanent home will be found for her."
Stone lay both palms flat on the desk and leaned in. "I don't think you understand, Anthony. Pinky already has a home. With me. I want her back."
Was that a small smile on the man's face or a flash of light? The director turned away so quickly he wasn't sure. He perused a shelf, pulled out a manila folder, and glanced through his notes. "I know you got attached to her, Officer Petty. But she needs a proper home. Arilyn explained you gave her up because you couldn't handle the responsibility of a dog, so we won't be able to give her back to you. Happens too many times. The owner decides it's too hard to take care of a dog, gives them up, misses them for a while, and wants them back. A few weeks go by and we find ourselves with the dog back in our shelter and a heartbroken animal we need to rehabilitate."