Page 35 of A Furever Home (Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #8)

brOOKLYN

We were in the eye of the hurricane right now, as I sat at the dining room table with my laptop, trying to work.

The kerfuffle with our family had died down over the last two days, with no further word from our parents.

I’d expected Dad to blow up my phone once the petition for emergency custody was accepted for processing yesterday— Thank God for Wynn —but Dad didn’t call or text.

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or worried.

Given Cheyenne had never checked into the hotel either, I knew that meant things would be even nastier when Denver showed up.

By now, they’d know she was with me. He’d have to come here, instead of just pulling up to some motel and demanding a chastened Cheyenne slide into the passenger seat of his pickup.

At least the petition being in the pipeline meant one less thing to worry about—my sister had the right to be with me legally, for now.

The court date for the emergency hearing was set for the end of next week. That meant eight days of waiting.

Likely Denver would show up long before then, determined to drag her home, so chaos was certain to ensue.

Hence thinking of this as the moment of calm before the next half of the storm hit. And wasn’t the backside of a hurricane always worse?

I had other things to do, but my fingers clicked on the picture of Harvey that I’d saved to my hard drive.

We’d printed out multiple copies, along with a general description of Denver and circulated them to our friends and neighbors.

We were into yellow alert now—the “only if he’s crazy” drive time.

By tomorrow morning, we’d be full on red “he can make it, no sweat” timing.

Someone was coming, and not knowing who and when was making my stomach hurt.

I’d cancelled Poppy and Jett for tomorrow, out of an abundance of caution. But I couldn’t put my life and work on hold forever. If we were still in the clear on Monday, I’d need to allow the dogs back.

Having Arthur’s three here really helped. Helped all of us, maybe Cheyenne most, but even for me, the calm furry energy kept me from being as tied up in knots.

Eb flopped in the family room, gently snoozing.

Chili lay resplendently across my feet—her new favorite spot.

Arthur and Cheyenne were out walking with Sadie and Twain. Now that Sadie was settling in, Arthur had decided she could use leash training, and Twain was good doggie company.

Sadie did best with another dog to model calm behavior.

At odd moments, I saw signs the little white dog was growing attached to Cheyenne—almost like she understood my sister was her savior—but Sadie was still skittish and nippy when suddenly approached.

But in the backyard with Arthur’s three pooches? Doggie heaven.

I worried about Cheyenne taking on too much, or getting bitten, but Arthur was guiding her step by step, and I saw how it steadied Cheyenne to be strong for someone else, even a small dog.

I couldn’t imagine how my sister must feel, waiting for her life to be decided by older people she didn’t trust. God, I was proud of her, though.

No whining, no hiding in her room, just chin up and shoulders back and keeping on going.

Along with training Sadie, Cheyenne was doing a lot of housework.

A lot.

My house had never sparkled this much—at least since I’d begun the daycare.

Meals were pretty sweet as well. Her cooking even meant more stolen moments for me with Arthur.

Between his work at the shelter and the daycare for me, and mentoring Cheyenne, we didn’t have a ton of extra time.

I treasured that last hour after Cheyenne went to bed, when I could duck into Arthur’s room and be his boyfriend and nothing else, and let the world run without us for a little while?—

Wham! Wham!

Pounding on the door came so loud Chili leapt up.

The racket jolted me out of my reverie.

Shit.

Eb came skittering into the dining room.

Double shit .

I grabbed my cell phone and, out of an abundance of caution, sent Arthur a text.

Don’t come home until I text it’s safe.

As the pounding continued, I forced a grin at the dogs. “Let’s go to Arthur’s room, kids!”

My fake joviality had Chili trotting along, but Eb appeared skeptical.

“No, really, everything’s fine.”

Still more pounding.

Finally, Eb followed me as well.

And, of course, I slammed the door in their faces, closing them in. As much as I would appreciate Eb’s company and support, I wasn’t going to risk Arthur’s dogs. I’d seen Denver kick a baby calf once. Not letting Chili near his boots.

The pounding was unrelenting. The noise set my teeth on edge and I was sweating. I’d forgotten how much I hated my brothers.

Call the cops or ?—

A shout. “Cheyenne, get the fuck out here!”

Is that Denver’s voice? It sounded like him. I didn’t want to confront my brother in front of the neighborhood, but I wasn’t certain I wanted the cops showing up either. And letting him escalate would not endear me to anyone. So much for being a boring neighbor.

Mentally apologizing to everyone in the vicinity, I opened the front door. “Denver, she’s not?—”

Shit.

Not for the first time in my life, I’d badly miscalculated. I attempted to slam the door, but a big, booted foot prevented me closing it. Steel-toed, of course. He always wore steel-toed boots .

Harvey grabbed me by the shirt-front and hauled me out onto my front porch. He held on tight as he shook me like a rag doll. “Where the fuck is Cheyenne?”

You’re not eight. You can fight back . Except I didn’t want to. I was a strong believer in nonviolence. Every bone in my body rebelled against the idea of raising a finger against anyone, even this guy. But Harvey had never listened to words.

This is for Cheyenne. I planted my feet on the ground and glared at the vicious asshole. “Cheyenne’s not here. I have no idea where she is. She stole my phone and took off.” Please believe me. I was never a competent liar—or good at praying—but I’d do both if it kept my sister safe.

His grip tightened. “I don’t believe you. Denver says she never checked into any motel like your daddy told her. He says she’s still here.”

Fucking Denver. Just had to be chummy with the biggest bully in Piperston.

Big fucking surprise — like seeks like .

Denver’s bullying tendencies hadn’t been nearly as strong as Harvey’s, but I’d caught him harassing some of the weaker boys in his class at school.

When I tried to intervene, Dad said those sissies needed toughening up .

One reason I’d never gone to him about Harvey.

“I swear she’s not here. I don’t know where she is.” Hopefully far away from here. Hopefully Arthur’s keeping her ?—

“Let go of him, Harvey!” Cheyenne jogged toward us, Sadie skittering around on her leash at my sister’s side. Behind her, Arthur was hobbling as fast as his cane would let him.

Shit.

Fucking hell.

My nemesis slammed me against the doorjamb, knocking the wind from my lungs and whacking my head on the door. Then he whirled and stalked down my front walk. “Get in the goddamn truck, Cheyenne, or I swear, you’ll be sorry. You won’t like what I can do to them.”

I blinked. Who are them? Me? Arthur? The dogs? I tried to shake my head, still off-balance from the impact.

Harvey stomped to the sidewalk where Arthur and Cheyenne stood.

Arthur, silly man, was trying to put himself between Harvey and my sister. He’d handed her the leashes and was sort of brandishing his cane.

I adored him, but even as he tried to convey strength, his leg was clearly giving him problems. Probably ran here when they heard the bellowing. So much for heeding my warning.

Yeah, but if Arthur was in trouble, would you stay away?

To protect Cheyenne? Maybe.

“Harvey, you’re not wanted here.” I injected as much determination into my voice as I could. “I’ll thank you to get in your pickup, and get the hell out of here before I call the cops.”

He pivoted back to glare at me and my stomach dropped.

I knew that look. Had seen it many times. Had endured what usually came next.

Arthur raising the cane appeared to give my nemesis pause.

I didn’t know if my boyfriend could do any real damage with the cane—although blunt instruments rarely required precision—but I worried about the risk to himself if he tried.

“What are you doing here?” Cheyenne had stopped out of Harvey’s reach, peering around Arthur. She stuck her chin in the air.

I heard the quaver.

Likely Harvey did too. Men like him got off on having others tremble and cower.

I said, “Harvey’s just leaving.” Slowly, I strode the few steps off my porch and down toward the street, trying to sound confident, trying to seem imposing. Hiding the way my own belly quivered like Cheyenne’s voice.

Again, Harvey glared. “I’ll take my future wife and be on my way.”

Cheyenne barked a laugh. “No fucking way am I marrying you.”

Great, Cheyenne, poke the beast . Back where we came from, women didn’t swear and they didn’t answer back. That just wasn’t a thing. Not if they knew what was good for them .

Harvey’s nostrils flared as he glowered at me. “You let her get away with such filthy language?”

“She can say whatever she wants.” Arthur’s voice was dead calm. “It’s a free country. Listen to Brooklyn and get out of here before we call the cops. We have a court order giving him custody of Cheyenne. Heck, she can’t leave since she’s under his protection.”

I wasn’t sure if that was exactly right, but who cared? At least he’s making it clear she’s here with us legally.

“Your California order doesn’t mean jackshit back in New York.

” He said California as cali-forn-eye-eh.

Basically, spelling out the last two letters and showing his absolute ignorance.

Or purposeful disdain. Could go either way.

He laughed in my face. “You always were a pussy. You think you can stop me now?” Then focused on Cheyenne.

“Get into the truck, girl, or there will be consequences.”

She shook her head. “Three against one, Harvey. You can’t bully us.” Again, just a touch of quaver. As if she wasn’t certain we three could take the massive man.

Hell, I wasn’t convinced.

If Arthur was healthy and Cheyenne didn’t have two leashes? Possibly, but even then, not without getting hurt. The men of Piperston learned to fight, and Harvey had relished the training, while I’d always dodged as much as I could get away with.

The rage at my own impotence angered me. Should’ve spent the past twelve years bulking up and training, preparing for this confrontation. Except that notion was ludicrous. No way could I have predicted Cheyenne showing up and needing my protection from my old nemesis.

“Get lost, Harvey.” Arthur’s blue eyes glinted steel as he dug in his pocket. “I’m dialing 9-1-1 right now.”

A decent threat, given my former community’s desire to stay off the radar of the law. Well, the law they didn’t control. The Piperstown sheriff was one of the community, but Harvey’s cop friends back home wouldn’t be able to protect him out here.

“Cheyenne!” He bellowed her name, lunging toward her.

My sister yelped and flinched back.

I fought the urge to punch him with my bare knuckles, not sure if I’d make things worse.

But it was Sadie who snarled like a miniature wolf, jerked her leash out of Cheyenne’s grasp, and leaped at Harvey. What the damn dog thought she’d do was beyond me, but clearly she was freaked out by this entire shitshow.

Harvey scooped her up by the scruff.

She yelped in pain.

Cheyenne gasped and reached for the dog. “Let go! You’re hurting her!”

Arthur, forced to lean on his cane and barely balancing, tried to step in front of her while growling, “You hurt that dog and I’ll bash your head in.”

Harvey bared his teeth. “If you want this stupid dog to live, Cheyenne, you’ll get in the fucking truck. Hell, I might even let you keep the scrawny piece of shit.”

Never. Not in a million years will he let her keep the dog. Just as likely, he’d throw Sadie out of the window on the interstate and cackle when she got run over.

Little Sadie, apparently highly unimpressed with this turn of events, twisted in his grip and sank her teeth deep into Harvey’s arm.

He howled in pain, and tossed her. Hard.

She hit the ground with another yelp and took off down the street, the leash trailing behind her.

“Sadie!” Cheyenne appeared ready to chase after her, but didn’t dare bolt past Harvey.

“I’m going to kill that fucking dog.” Harvey glared at me. “Then you. Slowly.” He turned his attention to Arthur. “You as well, you crippled turd. Think you can fuck my future wife and get away with it?”

What the hell is he talking ?—

“You! Get away! I’ve called the police!” Mrs. Bollinger stepped onto her porch, brandishing her cell phone in her bony little hand. The pint-sized woman barely reached my chest, but she knew how to bellow. Often yelled at noisy kids on the street.

Up until this moment, I’d considered her an interfering woman with nothing better to do than complain. Right now, though, I wanted to kiss her.

“Yes, officer,” she added loudly into the phone. “Making threats and abusing animals. Hurry!”

Harvey clamped his left hand over his bleeding right wrist and took a step toward Arthur and Cheyenne, but jerked his head up as the sound of a siren carried across the previously still night.

“This isn’t over.” He glared at all of us, including Mrs. Bollinger.

With most families tucked into their homes for the night, we’d been mercifully alone.

No small children coming out to witness this clusterfuck. No one else for Harvey to threaten.

He strode to his pickup, swung in, and slammed the door. With a loud squeal of tires, he pulled away and rounded a corner before the approaching cop car came into sight.

“Brooklyn?” Arthur’s voice was urgent as he hobbled up to me. “Did he hurt you?”

Cheyenne was wailing. “I have to find Sadie! She might be hurt!”

The sirens were approaching.

Mrs. Bollinger was bellowing after Harvey.

The cacophony of noise rang inside my skull.

There’d be statements, and Sadie had vanished, and my pounding heart was stuck in my tight, airless throat.

“I…” My gaze met Arthur’s as my pulse raced and a feeling of helplessness flooded me.

“You’re okay. I’ve got this.” His gaze implored me to trust him.

And I did.