Tori Carrington Just Between Us

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

other's boyfriend were the same man.
She smiled to indicate she understood but couldn't summon
the energy to respond further.
"Where's Jack?" she asked when a lull fell in the
conversation.
It was a question she'd wanted to pose the moment she'd
spotted them on her doorstep but hadn't dared ask until
several margaritas had taken effect.
Layla shared a look with Reilly that made her heart sink
in her chest.
"What?" she asked, sitting forward and nearly knocking her
plastic glass over. "What is it? What's happened?"
"We didn't know if you'd heard or not, so we didn't want
to saying anything..."
Mallory grasped Layla's arm, her heart racing a million
miles a minute. "What is it? Has he been in an accident? I've
told him about that damn car of his. He drives like a
maniac..."
"Boomer's dying, Mall."
Her heart stopped beating altogether.
Boomer. His dog. His best friend outside the three of
them. A dog that had helped him get through the rough times
when he'd stopped drinking.
A dog that he loved with all of his heart.
Reilly cleared her throat. ' 'He took him to the vet last
night. They've tried everything they could all day, but
Boomer's old. First there was kidney failure, then...well, it
seems everything is collapsing all at once. There's nothing
they can do."
Mallory began to get up on shaky knees. ' 'Which vet?
Where? I've got to go to them."
Layla caught her arm, preventing her from moving from the
table. ' 'Mall, Jack asked us not to tell you."
She stared at her friend as if she'd just uttered
gibberish. "What?"
Reilly nodded. "Layla's right. Jack specifically asked
that we not say anything to you. He said he wanted to be
alone with Boomer when he, you know, passed."
"Are you crazy?" Mall said. "He can't be left alone. That
dog means the world to him!"
"So do you," Layla said plainly.
Mallory searched her friends' eyes. What were they trying
to say?
"Jack says that he doesn't want Boomer to be the reason
you put off going back to Kansas."
"I don't care what Jack said!" Mallory was pretty sure
she was yelling but she couldn't help herself.
She strode toward the door.
"How do you think you're going to get there?" Reilly
asked.
"Cabs won't come to this part of town this late," Layla
pointed out.
Mallory marched back to the table, grabbed Layla's purse,
then pulled out her car keys.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Layla said, making a grab for her
keys. "I'm not letting you drive in your condition."
Mallory held the keys out to her. "Then you drive. But I'm
telling you right now, Layla, one way or another I will get
to that vet's office."
Twenty minutes later they were sitting outside the vet's,
but they were too late. Jack had left a half hour ago, the
attendant had told them. Yes, Boomer had died quietly in his
sleep, his owner at his side.
Mallory sat in the passenger's seat, the weight of
everything that had accumulated during the past two days too
much for her to handle.
She started crying, and couldn't seem to stop.
VERY EARLY THE NEXT morning Jack sat within reach of the
vodka bottle, staring at it in naked challenge. He craved the
liquid with a passion. Thirsted for it with a need that
should have scared him, but didn't.
He reached out with open hand, then halted midway there.
He closed his ringers into a fist then dropped the hand back
down into his lap.
He'd never had a pet before Boomer. As a boy, he'd never
been allowed one. Dogs were dirty animals that needed
constant care and attention, his mother had said whenever
he'd asked for a puppy- which was every Christmas until he
was thirteen years old when he knew better than to make the
request. She wasn't going to pay the servants to look after
his pet. And forget what a puppy would do to the antique
Persian rug in the foyer!
Jack closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. The
morning he'd found Boomer roaming, lost, in the park, he'd
been sure he belonged to somebody. He'd been no more than
three months old. Had on a red, spiked collar. And whined in
a way that made his chest hurt. After he'd tried to locate
his owner and came up empty handed, he'd scooped up the
little pup and been rewarded with his first ever face
licking.
He'd been wrapped around Boomer's little paw ever since.
Tonight he'd held that same paw and watched as Boomer ran
away from him forever.
It wasn't fair. There should be a law somewhere that
dictated that pets live at least as long as their owners. If [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Podstrony