Searching for Always(112)

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.