Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
She had it going on, and she was wise.
She liked to attribute that to being a mom.
But I knew it was just Abigail.
She drifted away from the counter, and I looked to the door Nadia, Cicely and Lillian just walked through.
Did sexy friends go have dinner or babysit together for one of the friend’s friends’ baby?
No.
Yes.
No.
But…in Hutch and my case…yes.
He was Hutch. It wasn’t lost on me that he could easily find another woman, a good woman, and I didn’t have my head buried in the sand. That would hurt. It would even kill.
One thing I knew, I’d survive.
Another thing I knew, I wouldn’t survive not having Hutch in my life.
If I could grow up the way I grew up…
If I could get bounced to the nightmare that was the years I spent with my uncle and aunt…
Then bounced back to live with a mom who seemed unable to grasp that the gravy train had left her behind, and she thought she could live in a woo-woo land of crystals, pot, patchouli and acid trips, only to learn in the worst way she couldn’t…
And finally endure the outing of my fiancé being married with children.
If I could survive all of that.
I could survive making a friend of Hutch’s woman if he moved on from me.
If it meant I didn’t lose Hutch.
In fact, I was coming to learn I’d do just about anything.
If it meant I didn’t lose Hutch.
TWENTY-THREE
Chisolm and Clementine
Mabel
The next evening, I had the ends of my kickass new hooded cardie pulled tight around my Stony Bluff Sanctuary tee, where I sat rocking in one of the rocking chairs on Hutch’s porch with Tonks lying beside me, and we were both giving him time.
Though Tonks was doing it, she sucked at it. She kept whimpering and letting out soft roos, her eyes glued to Hutch.
Mine were too, where he was standing, staring down his lane after the last client who had just left, taking Major with him.
At least he wasn’t totally alone. Hannibal was sitting next to him, resting against his leg.
But eventually, I had to call time.
Because this shit was killing me.
I got up, and Tonks took my lead, but she was way faster than me.
She scrambled off the porch and gave Hutch warning I was coming because she made it to him and snuffled his free hand (the other one was on Hannibal) until he petted her.
She shuffled out of the way when I took her place, wrapping my arms around his middle and pressing to his side.
He curled his arm around my shoulders.
“After they leave, I clean their pens,” he said to the lane. “Take all the blankets out and wash them. Scrub the toys and take them to the rescue so they can use them. The pups get all new. All theirs.” His brown eyes dropped to me. “And that’s the worst fuckin’ part of this job. Giving and washing the last bits of them away.”
“Oh, honey,” I whispered, tightening my arms to squeeze him.
“You know the history of Misted Pines?” he asked.
“From its origins?”
His lips quirked. “No. But that’s fascinating too. I mean shit like the Whitaker brothers.”
I nodded.
“We’re goin’ to Doc and Nadia’s house on Friday. Did you know, where they live was where the Whitakers lived?”
I felt my eyes get big. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“Yup.”
“That’s where it all went down? The murders? Everything?”
He nodded. “Including catching the actual murderer. She and her accomplice were dicking around on Doc’s land, and straight-up dicking with Nadia to scare her from it. They were there one night, everyone he loved under his roof, Doc went out to catch them, and he took Gia.”
“Okay.”
He looked to the lane. “And now, each time I let them go, I think about that. I think Doc could have encountered anything that night. I think if he did it alone, Ledge might not have a dad, Nadia wouldn’t have a husband, and Cicely wouldn’t be here at all. It wasn’t that dangerous, how it went down. But she incapacitated the one who was young enough to possibly do harm. So Doc was never in danger.”
“Because you trained Gia.”
He returned to me.
“Because I trained Gia,” he agreed.
“So it helps to think of that when you have to let go,” I surmised.
“Not a lot,” he admitted. “But it does help.”
“Have you always loved animals this much?”
Something so melancholy, it seemed like every bittersweet song he wrote balled up into one was reflected in his eyes.
“My dad was a K9 cop,” he said.
“Was?” I asked cautiously.
He drew in so much breath, his chest expanded with it.
And then he released.
“He died.”
“God, honey, I’m so sorry. You were obviously close.”
“He was the best man I ever knew.”
“Is your mom still around?”
I felt a strong tremor run through him that I didn’t like at all.
But he just said, “No.”