“If you need me, I’ll be right here in the kitchen,” Row said. Isleen gave her a grateful smile. At least she had one friend in this house.
She closed the door behind her, closed Xander and Camille inside, and wrote “The End” to her and Xander’s short story. Her body felt like crying, but her eyes remained dry. The future that looked so good only an hour ago was now a putrid mess. It was up to her to figure out how to be happy—without Xander, without Alex or Matt or Gran. Her happiness was her responsibility. She was strong. She’d survived everything. She’d figure out a way to thrive.
She sucked in a breath and sat on the swing facing out over a deep tree-filled ravine. No breeze moved the leaves, but the morning birds still sang.
Kent, who’d been staring out over the railing, took a seat in one of the wicker chairs opposite her.
“You don’t have a very good view,” she said. “You can sit here if you want.” She patted the seat next to her.
“Actually, I think I have the best view.”
Was he joking?
His square-cut features looked serious. “I saw you right after Xander brought you in. You were mostly dead, looked it too, and today—only five days later—you are a vibrant woman. It’s like everything about you is a miracle. From how Xander found you, to you being Gale’s granddaughter, to your hair growing impossibly fast.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Today, life doesn’t feel very miraculous.”
“Hard seeing Xander with another woman?”
“Yeah.” Confessing her feelings to a total stranger was only further evidence of how starved she was for attention and affection.
“I’m an asshole for bringing her here, but I knew Xander wouldn’t tell you about Camille. He’s been with her about ten years. Treats her like shit and she eats it up. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“I guess he’s not the person I thought he was.” Not the person I dreamed about.
“I’ve got something that might lift your spirits.” He reached into the strange-shaped duffel bag. Up close she could see the material was mostly made of mesh. He rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a little dog that was all skeletal legs, brindled fur, and ears three times larger than its head. It was the funniest looking canine she’d ever seen.
“Oh my gosh. He’s so sweet. What’s his name? Can I hold him?”
Kent’s face went serious. “His name is Killer. And before you hold him, I need to warn you. He lives up to his name—Killer.”
“He’s mean?” Disappointment raised the pitch of her voice.
Kent lowered his voice to sound like a corny radio announcer. “He’s a lady-killer. He doesn’t look like it, but he loves the ladies. Hell, he loves anyone who loves him.” Kent handed him over to her.
Killer’s fur wasn’t exactly soft; it was more bristly than anything. She settled him on her lap, but he twisted, stood on his back legs, his front paws on her chest, and licked her chin. His tongue was warm and… “Oh, his breath—”
Kent laughed, his features softening. “That’s his Achilles’ heel. I’ve done everything I can to get that stink under control. Mint charcoal doggy mouthwash in his water. No go. Doggy breath mints. No go. Brushing his teeth—that traumatized us both and still didn’t work.”
Killer settled back in her lap, his dark-chocolate eyes staring up at her. She didn’t need to be the dog whisperer to know he wanted her to pet him. She scratched his ears, and he let out a doggy sigh of total contentment.
“I picked him up at the Humane Society about a year ago. I went in there looking for a dude’s dog—you know, a Lab or German shepherd. I ended up with Killer. Just couldn’t walk away from that face with those ears. It’s taken him a while to adjust. At first, if I raised my voice—you know when you watch a game on TV or something—he’d start shaking, slink off, and hide like he thought I was going to beat him. He used to hoard his food too. He’d go to his food bowl, get a mouthful, then go spit it out in the corner of his bed, stockpiling it like one day I might stop feeding him or something. That’s gone now.”
“I can’t believe someone could be cruel to him. He’s the sweetest thing.” Killer stood, turned two circles on her lap, then lay down, curling up in a tight ball. His eyes fell shut and he was out. “I’m in love with him.”
“Told you. He’s a lady-killer.”
They sat quietly for a while, both watching Killer sleep.
“Isleen, I know it isn’t going to be easy, but I have to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?” He removed a small recorder from his pocket and placed it on the seat next to her.