Burning Bond by Hart Emma

Author:Hart, Emma [Hart, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Fiction, Romance, Suspense, Humour, Crime, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781310576829
Goodreads: 28225799
Publisher: Smashwords
Published: 2016-10-06T07:00:00+00:00

Jason: Call me when you get this.

I stare at the screen of my phone for a long time. Right now, I don’t feel like I can, but I know I have to. There’s no doubt he heard about what happened at lunch today with Brody, and I do owe him an explanation.

Except it’s much easier to ignore it, isn’t it? Easier to hit delete and find something else to occupy my thoughts. Easier to pretend I don’t know why he’s called three times and texted once. And left a message.

Is this what a ping-pong ball feels like? Does it just think, Oh, fuck off, each time it hits another bat?

Because I wouldn’t judge it if it did.

I kind of feel like doing it right now.

Jackson bounds over to me on the sofa and jumps up, setting his paws on my knees. He blinks at me with his big puppy-dog eyes, which are almost irresistible.

“What do you want, boy?” I rub behind his ear.

He yips at me. He jumps down, runs to the front door, yips again, and comes back to me.

“You walk to go for a walk?”

He runs to the front door and sits, this time staying there.

I chew the inside of my lip as I look out the window. It’s not dark, but it’s not light. It’s that awkward in-between where the sun has almost set and we probably have another thirty minutes of natural light before it disappears altogether.

I shouldn’t be going out. I promised. But...if I don’t go to the park, I’ll be okay. I can take him for a short walk around the neighborhood, away from the park, and we’ll be safe.

My gut tells me it’s too risky, but I haven’t walked him in a couple of days. Not properly—and there’s only so much time in the backyard even a small dog like him can take.

“Fine. Let’s go.” I get up to put my sneakers on. Then, when they’re tied, I grab my phone, Jackson’s poop bags, and my keys. I clip Jackson’s leash onto his collar—just about, because apparently, the prospect of a walk is way too exciting to stand still to actually get ready to go for said walk.

I lock the door behind me and check my phone for the time. Fifteen minutes—that’s my maximum time. Walk for five and then turn around, which gives him ample time to pee, poop, sniff butts, and whatever else he finds so thrilling at the bases of the street lights and just about every bush on the street.

Every flower too, come to think of it.

Jackson tugs on the leash the second I turn around. He’s pulling me in the direction of the park, but I give him a pull back to me, hiss, “No,” and move him in the opposite direction. Damn dog. Just because it’s the normal way doesn’t make it the right way.

Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

Goose bumps rise across the tops of my arms, and the accompanying chill makes me shiver. For the first time since the last attack, I’m out alone, with my dog, and not in complete daylight.

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