Page 21 of A Furever Home (Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #8)
ARTHUR
“You got shot !”
I held the phone farther away and frowned at Shane’s small image. “Yell louder, why don’t you?”
“Fuck you.” Shane glared at me from across the ocean. “‘I had a minor incident ,’ you said. ‘Everything’s fine,’ you said. A bullet is not fucking minor. And I had to find out about it from Nina.”
“Um.”
“She assumed you’d told me, like you should have. She was showing me video of Foxy, and then she said, ‘It’s a good thing I took her, since Arthur has his hands full with being shot and all.’ I dropped my damned phone.”
“What kind of video?” I asked to distract him. “Was it cute?”
“Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easy. What the fuck happened? Spill it, Arthur.”
I reluctantly told him the basics, emphasizing that the gun was small, the wound was healing, and leaving the concussion as “rung my bell, but no fracture or anything.”
When I was done, Shane said, “Holy shit. I’m glad you and Kevin are okay. Did you ever find the dog? Is it safe?”
I laughed, maybe harder than I should’ve from the ache in my head, but yeah, Shane, Kevin, and I were a lot alike in some ways. “Kevin did.”
“That kid.” Shane sighed. “I worry about him, you know? Not just walking in front of guys with guns for a dog, but in general. The way the world is.”
“Me too.” Every time I turned around, someone was in the news crapping on kids like Kevin.
Using trans people as the scapegoat for everything, the distraction from the real evils in the world.
And there was no way to protect a thirteen-year-old from seeing himself called insane and a threat to kids and a thousand disgusting names.
Joe and Alec must be tearing their hair out, unable to stand between hate and their son.
“You don’t think he got in that position on purpose?” Shane’s voice went low. “Standing in front of a gun, I mean, risking his life?”
“God, no.” I thought back. “I hope not… No, I think he was just focused on the poor dog, the same way he always protects anything helpless and scared. Admittedly, he’s not the sunny kid I first met a year ago, but he’s a teenager now. When I turned thirteen, I was a mess.”
“We should try to get him to hang out at the shelter more often,” Shane suggested. “He’s safe and appreciated with us.” His tone changed. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Nina said you’re rooming with some guy you don’t even know.”
“Brooklyn. He’s the one I told you about, who helped me when I got…hurt.”
“ Shot .”
“Yeah. Anyhow, he runs a doggie daycare, and he’s a good guy, will be a wonderful resource for our adopters who need that service. He’s putting me up while my leg gets happier about stairs, and in exchange, we’ll stock his brochures and cards at the shelter and recommend his business.”
“We’d do that anyway.”
“This way, I can say I’ve checked out the place personally and he’s great with the pups and has a clean and safe facility.
Win-win.” That even sounded logical. Is that all we’re doing?
But memories of last night before Cheyenne’s arrival intervened to tell me no, this wasn’t just some kind of business arrangement.
God, the mouth on him. And the kind heart…
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess the stairs to your place would be tough. You know, you’re welcome to stay in Theo’s house if you want.” I noted Shane didn’t call it “our house.” He loved Theo, without a doubt, but the money difference was still a hurdle.
At least, Brooklyn and I don’t have that problem ? —
Shush. I shied away from even imagining he and I were becoming like Shane and Theo.
“I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t drive at first, and Brooklyn, well, offered to give me a ride in the mornings.
” I wanted to say it was on his way, but of course, it wasn’t.
He was just that kind. His sister had been smart to run to him.
“Theo would pay for a cab if you change your mind. If you’re not comfortable where you are.” Shane eyed me closely across the miles.
I was glad of the small screen, where he couldn’t puzzle out what was going on in my head.
Shane was a sharp guy, his skill at interpreting people’s moods honed by his years on the streets.
But even he couldn’t do much with a three-inch picture.
“I’m fine. I like his place, and the dogs are in heaven.
But yeah.” Of course, Cheyenne changed everything.
“Thanks. If I need an alternative, I’ll take you up on that. ”
“You have the key and the code.” He tilted his head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come home? I’ve done one safari now.”
“Not a chance. Neil’s doing a great job wrangling extra hours out of the volunteers. We don’t actually need anyone at the shelter overnight, it was just handy, and I’ll be back in my place soon.”
“And you really are healing well?”
“Really,” I said, crossing my metaphorical fingers, because I could feel a headache looming. They were less frequent, though. I wasn’t lying. “I’d never forgive myself if I took you away from the giraffes and leopards.”
Shane grinned. “They are awesome. The other morning, we were in the second Jeep on the road approaching the waterhole…”
I listened with half an ear to Shane’s excitement, pleased that he seemed happy, and signed off with another promise to let him know if anything changed.
Sticking the phone into my pocket, I pinched the bridge of my nose. My eyes watered as the fluorescent lights strobed in my peripheral vision. Sometimes things were better with my eyes closed, so I did that, groping behind me for the back of a breakroom chair.
“Here.”
Neil’s voice made me jump, but I kept my eyes shut as he guided me down to the seat. “Thanks.”
“Headache? Vertigo? Nausea?” He sounded matter-of-fact. Thank God for Neil.
“Yes,” I muttered.
His huff of breath wasn’t quite a laugh. “Damn. You want to just sit here?”
“Can you get me some water?” I had ibuprofen in my pocket, but I’d never learned to dry-swallow. Choking as my headache kicked in would probably kill me.
“Sure thing.” A moment later he bumped a bottle against my fingers.
“Thanks.” I squinted enough to see what I was doing as I opened the cap, took a sip, and tossed back four little tablets of relief. Hopefully. The door to the back of the shelter opened, and the cacophony of barking dogs made me flinch.
“You know what?” Neil said. “Go home and get horizontal.”
“The crappy part doesn’t last long,” I told him, although the downside to fewer episodes was that they’d started hanging on longer. When I told the doc on Friday, she’d mentioned vestibular migraines, and I was determined not to develop those, like I could hold them off by force of will.
“Sharon’s leaving in ten minutes. She can give you a ride.”
“I don’t need a ride.”
“Arthur.” Neil squeezed my shoulder and when I opened my eyes, he bent to look at me. “You worked all week. Give your body a break. Let the nice volunteer give you a ride home.”
I tried to wave him off, but a flash of pain behind my eyes made me grunt and squeeze them shut again.
Neil didn’t say, I told you so. He just said, “I’ll let Sharon know you’re riding with her.”
This bout seemed to be more headache than the vertigo that could put me on my ass, so I made it out to Sharon’s car without making a fool of myself. She drove carefully and didn’t make chit-chat, which meant she was my current favorite person.
When we got to Brooklyn’s house, she asked if I needed a hand but I waved her off. “Thanks so much. Remind me to double your salary.”
She—being a free volunteer—laughed, as intended, and drove off.
When I used the key Brooklyn had given me to open the front door, I wasn’t greeted by any of the dogs. The reason why was probably explained by the happy barks I heard from the backyard.
Xandra sat in the hallway, blue eyes staring at me, then headed toward my room with a flick of her plumy tail. Bed was her favorite thing. Mine too, right now.
As I toed off my shoes, Brooklyn appeared. “Hey, Arthur, you’re back—” At my squint and wave, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “—early. Headache?”
I nodded very carefully. “Going to lie down.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Nope. Thanks.”
I made it into my room. Xandra lay on my pillow, but I shut the door against the dogs. They had Brooklyn, lucky pups, and while Xandra could be quiet, Twain and Eb didn’t know the meaning of the word. A little isolation would be perfect right now.
I lay down inch by inch, not jarring myself.
Through the throbbing in my head, I noted that my leg really did feel a little better.
Maybe trading the crutch for a cane at tomorrow’s appointment wasn’t a pipe dream.
I let Xandra keep my pillow and took the spare, laying my head down beside her.
She purred for a moment, loud enough that I almost regretted not shooing her out, but then she quieted, and the murmur of her contentment soothed me.
I kept my eyes closed and tried to relax every muscle in my body, as soft distant sounds told me my other fur-babies were well entertained.
Sleeping had seemed unlikely, but at some point, the meds must’ve kicked in, because I woke to low afternoon sunlight filtering around the curtains. My headache still lingered, and I flinched at the loud crashing sounds from the living room that’d roused me.
I struggled to my feet and headed out to see what was happening, almost tripping over Twain in the hallway.
Brooklyn and I arrived at the same time, to find Cheyenne sitting on the couch, Eb up on the furniture with his head in her lap, and a movie with some kind of shooting and explosions on the TV.
I flinched and grabbed for the wall as a building blew up in technicolor brightness and sound.
Brooklyn hurried in. “Turn that off!” He snatched the remote from Cheyenne and snapped off the screen.
“Hey! I was watching that.” She grabbed the device back and turned it back on, just in time for another rattle of gunfire.
I might’ve whimpered because Brooklyn looked my way.