Between the Sheets by Molly O'Keefe

Author:Molly O'Keefe [O'Keefe, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Humor, United States, Women's Fiction, Contemporary Women, Romance, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Humor & Satire, American, General Humor, Sagas
ISBN: 9780345549044
Google: 4ovIAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00I7660XK
Barnesnoble: B00I7660XK
Goodreads: 20945457
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2014-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Casey woke up with a start, his face throbbing in the blackness. His heart hammering in his throat.

What was that sound?

Moonlight fell in a big checkerboard across his bed and he sat up, blinking.

CRASH!

The sound came from outside. The dog, he guessed. The dog that had been sniffing around the garbage.

After Dad left to talk to Shelby, Casey had put his leftover ribs outside on the trash can hoping to lure the skinny gray dog back because it had been a few days since he’d seen it.

He scrambled up to his knees and looked out his window, which had a view over the garbage and the fields in back. The dog, skinnier than ever, was there, standing next to the spill of trash from the overturned garbage can.

Before running downstairs, he glanced at the digital clock by his bed. 2:10.

Ty’s door was open and he was snoring on his bed. Ty slept like he was dead. At first Casey had been scared; the only people he ever saw sleep like that were the drunk guys that sometimes hung out with his mom. But Ty always woke up when Casey shook him and he never smelled like booze, and Ty never hit Casey.

All good things in Casey’s book.

He crept down the steps, avoiding the creaks and the rug, which bunched up on the second stair. From the fridge he grabbed some cheese and leftover potato salad. He had no idea if dogs liked potato salad, but he figured it couldn’t hurt.

As quietly as he could manage, he slipped out the back door, making sure the storm door didn’t bang shut and scare away the dog. But as soon as he stepped past the grill and onto the grass, the dog must have smelled him or something, because it looked up, one of the ribs sticking out of its mouth.

Casey stopped, one foot on the cement pad, one foot in the wet grass. Behind the dog was the field of tall weeds that he wondered if Ty was ever going to tell him to mow. That seemed like the kind of thing dads were supposed to do. Make their kids mow the lawn.

But so far, all Ty really made him do was go to his room.

The dog watched him for a long moment and Casey stood very still, he barely breathed, and finally the dog went back to eating, but its ears were up and it kept one eye on Casey.

Very slowly, Casey just sat down on the lip of the cement. The dog lurched as if to run, but when Casey didn’t move anymore, it seemed to relax again.

It was hard to say what kind of dog it used to be, because now it was just a sack of bones. But it was big and its fur was short and one of its ears was torn and it was covered in bloody, crusty cuts, as though it had gotten through some barbed wire.

The dog was back at the leftover ribs like it was in a race to gulp them down.

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