Page 31 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer (Goose Run #1)

DANNY

I sat staring morosely at the TV screen, barely paying attention, too busy wishing Miller was here and we were making out.

But Miller wasn’t here. And we wouldn’t be making out any time soon—or ever.

I hadn’t called or texted him since our conversation last week.

Back before I’d met Miller, I hadn’t minded spending evenings alone.

I’d enjoyed it, even. With four guys living here, the house was hardly ever quiet and I’d liked to savor those times when I could.

I’d been happy to chill out and watch TV or maybe play some games or scroll on my laptop.

But now all I could think about was how much I was missing Miller.

I’d admit, I’d been tempted to see if he wanted one last hookup before he left town because, let’s be real, the sex was amazing.

But it turned out I wasn’t enough of a masochist to put myself through it.

Better to rip the Band-Aid right off and get used to the single life again, you know?

And the thing was, I didn’t blame him for grabbing that opportunity with both hands. Miller had never made any secret of the fact that he wasn’t going to hang around forever. The timing sucked, that was all.

And I missed him.

Outside, I could hear Harlan yelling about something, but I ignored it.

Over the last week or so, he’d taken to walking around the neighborhood with a flashlight in the evenings.

I guessed maybe he’d appointed himself the neighborhood watch, which was on brand for him.

He was probably out there yelling at someone who’d let their grass get longer than a half inch.

The front door slammed and Wilder strolled into the living room, his shirt unbuttoned and his abs shining with body glitter. “You’re not gonna believe the client I just had,” he said, dropping next to me on the couch. “It was fucking wild.”

“Wait right there,” I said. I went through to the kitchen and grabbed two beers and came back and handed him one. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Wilder popped the top and took a long swallow. “I get this last-minute booking for a private party, right? The address is that fancy hotel in Hopewell. I go to the room number, and I’m expecting to find a room full of drunk girls with dollar bills, you know?”

I nodded.

Wilder grinned, his teeth gleaming. “Bro, there was a woman, a guy, and a pug.”

“A what ?”

“Yep. One of those squishy-faced dogs.” Wilder’s grin widened. “So I apologized, thinking it was the wrong room, but no. Turns out this chick wanted to spice up her couple’s night with a strip show.”

I blinked at him. “With her dog there?”

“Right? It was fucking creepy. So I did my thing and got out of there. She tipped real well, but I swear the dog was judging me the whole time. Those beady little eyes, man.” He shuddered. “Oh, and guess what the dog’s called.”

“I dunno.” I tried to think of pug names. “Pugsly? Pickle?”

“Not even close,” Wilder said. “Alexander Hamilton.”

I laughed so hard I choked on my beer, and Wilder had to slap me on the back so I could breathe again. I was still laughing when Chase walked in the front door. He leaned around the frame of the living room door, brow creased, and said, “Hey guys, did Harlan get a dog or something?”

Wilder leaned forward, head tilted. “Not that he’s said. Is he still out there with his flashlight?”

Chase nodded. “Yeah, but this time he’s wandering around and calling for Scooter, so I figured he must have a puppy or something.”

Wilder and I exchanged a look, and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Ah, shit,” I said. Just when I’d thought this week couldn’t get any shittier, here was the universe saying hold my beer .

I heaved my ass off the couch with a sigh and stood.

“Someone had better go see what the deal is. Wilder, you coming?”

Chase’s brow creased. “What’s the problem?”

Of course, I realized. Chase didn’t know. It would have been before he and Cash moved in. But yeah, there was one hell of a problem.

“Scooter was Harlan’s old bloodhound, and he’s been dead for well over two years.”

Chase threw me a “what the fuck” expression, and we trooped out to the front porch to see what the deal was.

Harlan was a pain in my ass. He’d cut down my grandma’s tree, and he shouted at us any chance he got.

But all of that stopped mattering when I saw the state of him.

He was wandering around in his robe, his flashlight reflecting off the leaves of the low bushes in his front yard.

Harlan’s hair was sticking out from his head in a wild halo, his robe was undone, and he was barefoot.

It was a far cry from his normally put-together self, and clearly whatever was going on, it wasn’t good.

My unease grew as he called, “Scooter? Where are you, boy?”

I flicked on the porch light and it buzzed and came to life, and the next thing I knew the flashlight was shining right in my face. “Have you boys seen my dog?” Harlan asked. His voice shook, and he was nothing like his normal cranky self. If anything, he sounded scared.

I stepped off the porch with Wilder and Chase following. “Hey, Mr. Whittaker.”

“I can’t find Scooter!” he said, moving into our yard and swinging the flashlight from side to side. He crouched down and shone the light under my truck, like the dog might be hiding there.

The rattle and roar of Cash’s dirt bike cut through the night air, and a minute later he pulled up into the driveway behind my truck.

He dismounted, pulled off his helmet, and ran a hand through his hair.

Harlan stood and directed the beam of light right at his face.

Cash blinked and put a hand up to shade his eyes, his expression very clearly saying, what the fuck?

Harlan squinted at Cash, then turned to the rest of us and trained his flashlight on Chase. “What… what? How are there two of you? Is this some kind of trick?” He pointed accusingly between the twins, the flashlight shaking.

“Chase and Cash are twins, sir,” I said. “You’ve met them before.”

Harlan was definitely out of it. I didn’t know if he’d been drinking or maybe lighting up, but he was obviously confused, so I figured it was best to mind my manners in case he flew into the kind of rage that had led to him cutting down our tree.

Harlan looked between Cash and Chase again like the concept of twins was a brand-new one. “I’m sure there was only one of them before,” he said, but there was a thread of doubt in his voice.

“Chase and Cash have always both lived here, I promise,” I said.

Cash bit his lip and his brow furrowed. He hurried to stand next to Chase and whispered something in his ear, nodding at the flashlight.

“Harlan’s looking for his dog,” Chase said.

The crease between Cash’s brow got deeper and he whispered something else.

“Yeah, we know,” Chase said quietly. “It’s whack.”

“What are you whispering about? What’s going on? Where’s my dog ?” Harlan demanded. His voice cracked, and his bottom lip trembled dangerously.

Ah, shit. How was I meant to tell him his dog had passed?

I didn't want to upset him further. I glanced over at the tree stump, and inspiration struck. “Hey, I bet your dog’s just off chasing squirrels.” It was a bullshit line and I didn’t think for one minute he’d fall for it, but I was desperate, okay?

But Harlan blinked and then slowly nodded, a shaky smile appearing. “He does love those darn squirrels.”

Wilder spoke up then. “How about I take you home to wait for him?” He stepped forward and looped his arm in Harlan’s elbow.

Harlan took a step but then paused. “I can’t leave Scooter out all night.”

“No, but he might see the flashlight and think he’s in trouble, is all,” Wilder said in the same soothing tones he used when Gracie had skinned her knee or Cash had a nightmare. “If you go inside, he’ll come right back, I bet you anything.”

I held my breath.

Harlan’s gaze flicked over us and lingered on the twins, like he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Do you think so?”

I wasn’t sure who he was asking, but Cash gave a firm nod and said, “Squirrels.” Harlan looked at me and I nodded as well. Whatever was going on, humoring him seemed to be working, so I was just gonna go with it.

Harlan exhaled slowly. “I suppose. Goodnight, Joe.” He looked between the twins again and shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and let Wilder lead him across the yard to his front door.

Seeing my oil-and-glitter-covered roommate guiding my elderly neighbor home to wait for a nonexistent dog sure as hell hadn’t been on my bingo card, yet here we were.

So much for my improved mood.

“Who’s Joe?” Chase asked, and Cash shrugged.

“That was my grandpa’s name,” I said. There was a knot in my gut and I didn’t like it.

Wilder dropped Harlan at his door and when he came back, we all went inside. I slumped onto the couch and said, “That was super weird, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Chase said, taking the seat next to me. “Maybe he’s been drinking.”

That had been my first thought as well, but I shook my head. “He wasn’t acting drunk. More like he was confused.”

Cash’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line. He plopped down next to Chase, leaned over, and murmured something in his ear.

Chase’s brow furrowed. “The fuck is old timers?”

Cash rolled his eyes and huffed out a frustrated breath.

It took me a second to figure it out. “Are you talking about Alzheimer’s?”

Cash glared at me before finally speaking. “Yes!”

I didn’t want him to be right. But out of all of us, Cash would know, what with working at Sunny Fields. And Cash didn’t say shit lightly.