Fender: A Novel by Jones Brent

Author:Jones, Brent [Jones, Brent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Brennan finished clearing the dinner dishes and rounded the corner to find Rosie reading a novel on the couch. He stood in front of her and waited for her to look up. “It’s been two days,” he said.

She stopped reading and took off her glasses, studied his face.

“Since I last had a drink, Rosie. It’s been two days now.” He sat beside her and cleared his throat. “I can do this on my own.” He glanced at Fender, who was curled on a leather recliner. “You shouldn’t have even had to ask.”

Rosie held his stare. She put her hand on his and allowed him to continue.

“It’s just, ah, since, you know . . .”

“You lost Colin.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard and hesitated, wondering if he should elaborate. “Since then, I’ve, uh, just got used to taking the edge off, you know? I know that was years ago now, but . . .” He fidgeted his fingers beneath hers. “Somewhere along the way, it became a habit, I guess. It’ll . . . I’ll stop, my love. I swear.”

She smiled, moved an inch closer to him. “I believe in you, babe. I do. And I know you’ll do what’s right for our baby.” She brushed her fingertips across his face, kissed him.

“I’ll get help if I have to. But I think I can beat this thing on my own.” He motioned toward the recliner. “I’ve got Fender for support, too.”

Rosie leaned in for another kiss and stopped halfway. She tried to muster another smile but couldn’t. She stared at her lap. “Listen, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.” She moved a couple inches away from Brennan.

“What is it?”

“It’s about Fender.”

“What about him?”

She stalled, humming softly and brushing her bangs from her face. “Mom was doing some reading online.”

“About Fender?”

“About beagles in general.”

Fender looked up from the recliner, held still, appeared to listen to her every word.

Brennan felt his stomach ball in knots. He craved a drink all of a sudden, and tried to dismiss the dull ache burning deep inside him. “I mean, you’ve known Fender, what? Like three, almost four years now. Am I missing something?”

“Brennan . . . beagles are high energy dogs. They like to explore, especially new smells.”

“I know. That’s how he we first met, remember?”

She nodded, frowned, and curled her lip. “They can be kind and gentle and playful. You know that better than anyone. But they can be nippy, too. And Fender’s, what? About six now?”

“About that.”

“He might have trouble adapting to a new playmate.”

“I doubt—”

“Beagles shed, too. I mean, look at this place. We’ve barely lived here five months now, and there’s dog hair in every crack and crevice. Babies are often sensitive to pet dander.”

“What’re you saying?”

Rosie shut her eyes, pushing herself to proceed. “I think we should look for a new home for Fender.”

“Rosie, no.” He spoke through panicked breaths and sweeping hand gestures, repeating, “Rosie, no.”

“I love Fender as much as you do, Brennan—”

“Nobody loves Fender as much as I do.

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