"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."