Page 63 of The Deceptions

Waffles.

“I found him!” Hux proclaims through a crack in his voice, holding up a blond fluff of fur who squirms and whines. Hux’s cheeks heat when Mack grins, eager to rip into him about the newest development–a squeaky crack in his voice. “Shut up,” Hux grunts, deliberately lowering his voice so it doesn't squeak. Something it's been doing lately. Along with his growth spurt, making him nearly six feet tall at thirteen.

“A puppy?” JJ asks, petting the squirming furball.

“Yeah! I found him running around in the cemetery.” Hux shakes his head, sadness pulling down his features.

That can only mean one thing.

I frown. “Someone dumped him?”

Hux stiffens, looking down at the little guy with a frown. “Yeah, I think so.”

“It wouldn't be the first time someone dumped an animal at the cemetery,” JJ offers sadly.

“We need cameras at that damn entrance so no one can do that again.” Mack leans in and chuckles lowly when the dog licks his face.

“Are we keeping him?” There's hope simmering in my chest when the dog licks Mack again, waggles his little tail, and squirms out of Hux’s grip.

“I…” Hux stutters slightly, staring down at the puppy in question, running playful circles around us.

This wouldn’t be the first animal we’ve found wandering around the property. People see big woods, a cemetery, and think it’s the perfect place to leave their unwanted animals. Normally, we give them to the animal shelter for quick adoptions.

But this puppy feels different.

“We can totally hide him from Franco,” Mack says, plopping on the forest floor below our treehouse. The puppy jumps into his lap and licks his face over and over again. “Oh, yeah. Thisdog is ours. See? He already loves me!” Mack proclaims with a laugh.

“Waffles,” I say, sitting next to Mack and reaching a hand over.

“You want waffles?” JJ asks seriously, hovering above with concern in his eyes. “Have you not eaten? We can go to the diner for breakfast. They serve it all day.” He checks me again, taking in the size of my cheeks and chapped lips.

“No!” I laugh, running my fingers through the puppy's fluffy fur. “He reminds me of waffles.”

“I like Waffles. Waffles John Owens Jones Crewes Viotto.” Mack lifts his chin with pride.

“So…you gave him all our last names and John? Who the hell is John?” Hux huffs. “And why is my last name fifth and almost last?”

“What do you think you should be? First?” JJ cocks a brow at Hux who shrugs in response, sitting next to me as Waffles crawls all over us.

“Our little secret?” I ask, petting Waffles behind the ears as he attacks my face with kisses.

“Yeah.” They all agree at once.

Waffles wasn't a secret for long. Franco found out almost immediately after finding Waffles curled up in Mack’s bed, despite the promise to leave him outside. He forced us to live up to our responsibility and take Waffles to the vet for shots and registration and clean up his messes. It was the one time Franco gave fatherly advice instead of barking orders. Or hurting us. Instead, he let us keep Waffles as long as we trained him.

“Waffles,” I whisper faintly before I can stop the words from falling from my lips. It's hard not to call out to him. One of my old pals. My furry companion. The dog who looked after mewhen my life was at its lowest point. Or what I thought was my lowest.

The lock clicks into place on the outside of my bedroom door, sealing my fate for the night. I sigh, sitting on my bed, and stare at the clock. There's nothing else of substance left in here to entertain me.

No computer. No TV. No lamps.

It's a prison.

“You're lucky you get a mattress to sleep on!” My father barked at me before he shut the door in my face sans dinner.

Yeah. Lucky friggin me. I get a mattress. I guess it beats the damn basement he was once obsessed with throwing me in. At least in my bedroom, I can sneak out the window without detection and call the boys from my secret cell phone. Even with the bars on my windows. They’ve become useless to keep me in. Somehow, JJ maneuvered the bars in a way that my father will never find out they’ve been tampered with.

“Yo, Buttercup!” Mack hisses through a whisper, tapping on the bars over my windows. “I'm here to bust you out!”