Page 9 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)

CONRAD

L eaning back in my office chair I dig the palms of my hands into my eyes.

It’s been a long day of coding the initial pieces of Henry’s website and app, and my brain is ready to be done for the day.

I have three months to launch his website, build him a fully custom app, and also set up the computer systems at his studio so he can live stream his classes like he wants.

After the first day of work, I feel confident I can get it all done on time but it will be a sprint.

I sit upright when I feel something pressing against my leg and the distinct feeling of a plush toy being dropped into my lap.

Annie is also ready for me to be done for the day and stands up on her hind legs to offer me her favorite alligator toy to throw for her.

It was the only thing she hadn’t destroyed yesterday when I was at my meeting.

She carries it around the house like it is her most prized possession and it’s the first one she goes for when she wants to play.

I take it from my lap and throw it across the room, smiling to myself as I watch her chase after it.

My lips quickly fall when I realize I’m smiling as I’m still trying to be mad at her for destroying the apartment.

Damn dog.

It’s a good thing she’s cute.

Standing from my desk, I head for the door to grab her harness and her leash, needing to take her for a walk before heading to Kolbi’s for our weekly campaign night.

I plan to walk her as long as I can then put her in the kennel while I’m gone.

The neighbors will just have to deal with her crying until I get back.

“Come on, Annie girl,” I call to her and she quickly comes running.

She’s already picked up on when her walking times are and knows she has to sit and wait for me to suit her up before we can go.

With her patiently waiting at my feet, I place her harness over her head and buckle her into her leash before opening the door.

We do a long loop around my apartment complex, stopping at every other tree for her to sniff and smell as if she hasn’t already smelled them several times before, and after forty-five minutes, we head back inside.

Before leaving, I pour some food into her bowl, let her finish it and get a drink of water.

Then, I grab a treat from the canister Margaret brought over on Sunday and toss it into her kennel.

Annie happily trots inside to fetch the snack she’s been lured with but as soon as I shut the door, she starts to whimper.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t have you destroying my house again.

One more stunt like that and you’ll have to go back to the shelter,” I threaten even though I know it’s a bold-faced lie.

In the few short days she’s lived with me, she has wiggled her stubby little tail into my heart. We’re in it for the long run now.

Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.

I grab my keys and wallet from the counter and do my best to ignore the growing sounds of her cries.

She watches as I move throughout my apartment, collecting my things and getting ready to leave for the evening.

Unable to leave without another goodbye, I walk over to her kennel and stick my fingers in between the wire frame.

“I’ll be back, I promise. Goodbye, please stop crying so the neighbors don’t complain.”

She barks at me when I take a few steps towards the door and my instincts to check on her win out.

When I turn to look at her, I’m met with the saddest, biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen.

She looks like she is an animated dog whose eyes have been intentionally overdrawn to look bigger and sadder than naturally possible.

Clearly she knows what she’s doing because seeing her like that tugs on something in my heart—care for another living being for once?

Unlikely. Whatever it is, it carries my feet back towards where she’s locked away.

“ Fine ,” I sigh heavily. “You wanna come to game night? Will that make you stop looking at me like that? Because I hate the way it’s making me feel and I would very much like to not feel like that ever again.

” Her butt is shaking back and forth as I open up the door to let her out as if she can understand what I am saying to her.

“ ‘You should get a dog. It might be good for you.’ ” I mock Hanna’s words as I put Annie back into her harness.

“Yeah, and it’ll also make me even crazier than before because now I’m not just an uptight prick, I’m also an uptight prick who talks to the dog he can’t say no to when she starts to cry. ”

I grumble to myself as we head towards my car.

When I open the back door, she jumps in and leaps into the passenger seat as if it’s been labeled with her name on it.

I try to tell her to get in the back but instead of listening, she simply looks at me, panting, and if I’m not mistaken, smiling at me while she waits for me to take my seat next to her.

I check the watch on my wrist and huff again, realizing that if I don’t leave right now, I’ll be late for the second week in a row.

I’m not going to give Malcolm or the guys that kind of satisfaction.

“Fine, you wanna sit there, sit there. I don’t care,” I relent before slamming the door and walking towards the driver’s side.

Once I’m in and buckled, I glare at her for a second before bringing a hand to her head and giving it a good shake.

“Damn dog. If only you weren’t so cute.” I roll my eyes at her and she barks as if to say ‘I know.’

We make it to Kolbi’s in less than twenty minutes since I live on the opposite side of downtown than he does.

Pulling up to his place, I see Hank’s bike sitting in the driveway with two helmets clipped to the back but don’t yet see Malcolm’s truck.

I get out and head to open the passenger door to let Annie out.

Once I reach the top of the front steps of the old historic home, I undo her leash and let her go in ahead of me as I kick off my shoes and set them by the front door.

It isn’t long before I hear a commotion coming from down the hall as Annie happily introduces herself to my friends.

“What the?” Hank’s voice travels down the hall as I make my way into the house. When I reach the kitchenette, I see Kolbi step around the island and make a face at Annie who’s trying to jump into Hank’s lap as he sits at the table.

“What the hell is that?” Kolbi looks absolutely dumbstruck at the sight of my dog.

“What the hell does it look like?” I spit back, glancing between him and Annie who is now forcing her tongue into Hank’s nose.

“It’s a dog,” Hank says through a laugh, moving his face away from Annie’s relentless licking.

“I see it’s a dog,” Kolbi starts again. “Why the hell did you bring it to my house? Once Magnolia sees it she’s going to?—”

“Oh my gosh, a puppy!” Magnolia’s voice shrieks as she comes in from the living room. Annie looks at her and takes off to say hello. When the two of them meet, Magnolia falls to the floor to hug her. “Ohh, can we get one, Jack, pleaseeee ?” she whines.

“Want one,” Kolbi finally finishes his thought with a sigh and purses his lips at me. He crosses the room from the kitchen to where Magnolia is sitting on the floor petting Annie and sits down next to her.

“She’s so cute, can we get one? Please, please?” Magnolia begs.

“We can talk about it, flower,” my friend says before planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek. They had eloped earlier this spring and are now disgustingly happy just like Hank and Bailey are. Rather it be them than me any day.

“I’m surprised blondie hasn’t come in yet to—” Hank begins before the voice of his own wife cuts him off.

“Is that a dog?” she exclaims, finally stepping into the room.

“Never mind,” Hank finishes.

“I thought I heard something going on out here. Whose sweet angel is this?” She looks around the room.

“Conrad’s,” her husband, and my best friend, inform her.

“Conrad’s?” Her voice tips up as she looks at me. I can see the questions she wants to ask written all over her face but before she can get any of them out a new voice enters the room.

“Sorry we’re late, there was a situation at Butcher and Block we had to take care of,” Ophelia explains as Malcolm follows closely behind her. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and he’s looking at her ass as they come in.

“She calls it a situation, I call it a really good time.” He pumps his eyebrows at me as his smirk grows.

“You two did not have sex in the restaurant,” Bailey chastises, looking up at them from where she’s sitting next to Magnolia and Kolbi. “People eat there, you know.”

“No, sweetie, we didn’t have sex in the restaurant,” Ophelia explains, glancing at Malcolm and matching his smirk. “We did it in the back of Malcolm’s truck in the alley way.”

“Gross, we don’t need to know this,” I sigh irritably.

“Hey, who’s dog?” Malcolm asks, finally noticing Annie who is belly up in the middle of the circle my friends have formed around her. She’s never looked happier and I find the joy I feel about that annoying.

“Conrad’s,” everyone answers at once.

“You got a dog?” he asks, turning his head to look at me. He’s standing beside me and the only one not petting my forty-five pound surprise.

“Seems like that would be the case seeing as how there’s a dog on the floor right now.” I flip my palm up and wave it in Annie’s direction.

“But why?”

There it is—the question I’ve been dreading.

The question I knew I would get but at the same time, the question I’d hoped to avoid.

I intentionally neglected to tell my friends about Annie over the last few days because I didn’t want to answer this specific question.

I knew once I told them the truth, so many other questions would come and I didn’t have the patience nor will to answer them.

You’re such a grump.

You really need to relax.

Being so uptight isn’t good for your libido.

Their words ring out in my head and I decide that if I’m going to truly work on not being everything they tell me I am, a little bit of honesty will need to happen.

“Because my therapist told me to.”

Everyone freezes and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. All fourteen eyes are on me and the only noise to be heard is Annie’s excited pants. After a few beats, my friends and their respective partners exchange uneasy glances. Bailey, always the brave one, speaks first.

“Your therapist?”

“ Yes , my therapist.” I move away from the group to grab a beer from the fridge. Popping the top off, I throw it away and walk to take my seat at the game table. Everyone else stands from the floor and works their way over.

“You’re going to therapy?” This time it is Hank who speaks.

“Yep. Just started.”

“I think that’s great, brother.” Kolbi gives me his signature clap on the shoulder like he likes to do when he’s proud of someone.

“I love going to therapy. I go every Friday,” Magnolia comments as she stands behind his chair. After her parents cut her off, she started to go as a way to talk to someone about how she was feeling. She never had anything but good things to say about her experience.

“While I wouldn’t say I love going myself, I don’t mind my weekly head shrinking sessions.

Carl’s a good dude and hasn’t once made me want to punch something.

Plus, I don’t have a choice but to go seeing as how both my sponsor and princess here would kill me if I missed a session.

” Malcolm nods towards Ophelia who’s in his lap.

She smacks him on the shoulder and since I’m sitting next to them I can hear him whisper, ‘ Harder next time, little fox’ into her ear.

After relapsing earlier this year, Malcolm admitted himself into a drug rehab program and part of his release terms was to continue to go to therapy.

That, and to go to weekly N.A. meetings and check in with his sponsor daily.

“What prompted you to start going?” Hank asks.

“Soldier, we don’t need to know that, maybe Conrad wants to keep that to himself,” his wife says from behind him and for once, I’m grateful for her.

I’m not ready to explain the ins and outs of my reasoning for going to them.

I don’t mind that they know I’m going, but I’m not ready to tell them why just yet.

“Whatever the reason, I hope it helps,” Bailey says with a smile.

I look around the table at the people I call my family and take in their supportive glances.

If only they know they are part of the reason I’m going in the first place.

Feeling neglected, Annie jumps up and places her front paws on my leg to grab my attention and I start to pet her.

As I do, I feel the nervous energy I’d had about telling my friends about therapy start to dissipate.

“To Connie,” Malcolm calls out, raising his glass of water in the air. “And to dealing with our trauma one therapy session at a time.”

“Fuck you, Malcolm, you know I hate being called Connie.”

“To Connie!” Everyone around the table cheers and lifts their glasses to toast. As the bottles and glasses clang together, Annie barks at the noise causing everyone to laugh. I shake my head and sulk at everyone as I rub my hand along Annie’s head.

“I hate all of you. Can we please play now?”