Page 20 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

“Let’s go find David, buddy,” I say, heading toward Mom’s office where he could be hiding with Kiki. My phone buzzes with another new message. I feel a flash of irritation as I read it.

Ty: I don’t want to impose, but if you don’t think you’ll be able to give me a hand, I would like to know now so I can arrange . . . well, I don’t even know how to get her to Florida before Monday.

I sigh before typing.

Indie: Umm, so much for waiting until I could text you.

Ty: I’m trying to be patient, but this is my kid we’re talking about. David Meowie and Rigby Barks sound important. I’d like to discuss them, see if there will be any issues. As I said before, I may need to ask my mother for help. Which to be honest with you is worse than leaving my almost six-year-old alone at home.

I frown, trying to decide if he’s kidding or if his mother is really that bad at taking care of his child. As I chew my bottom lip, considering my response, Rigby nuzzles my leg. It’s pretty simple to answer Ty.

Indie: Rig and Dave are important. They’re family. They’ll have to come with me when I stay overnight.

I read my reply several times before hitting send, wondering if I should disclose more. No, that’s enough. I doubt he’ll ask for more details. Should I tell him the truth, though?

What would Tyberius say if he knew they help quiet my anxiety? That they’re the ones who keep me grounded and thanks to them I can function like a regular person.

Should I send something like, Believe me, it’s safer for your daughter if they’re with me?

Nope. It’s best not to text a confession to this perfect stranger. So far, I haven’t had to release that information to anyone—not even my family. Why start letting anyone in on my secret?

My friends think my attachment to them is weird enough as it is. My family doesn’t judge me or think much about it. Since I was young, I dragged our pets around the house and slept with them.

Ty: The thing is, Myra’s allergic to cats.

Indie: Lucky for you, Dave is hypoallergenic, and so is Rigby. I’m allergic to cats, too.

I smirk slightly, imagining his surprise that I’ve already circumvented his objection. My smirk fades though as another text appears.

Ty: So, to confirm, you’re bringing them both whenever you stay overnight? I don’t know if we can accommodate that.

I blow out a long breath. How much resistance is he going to put up with? I square my shoulders and type out my response.

Indie: Actually . . . they come with me everywhere, anytime. Starting tomorrow, consider them part of the package deal.

I stare at the dancing dots on the screen, chest tightening. Either he’s typing and erasing his response, or he’s messaging Jude to complain how I’m making this too difficult. I gnaw my bottom lip. I hope he doesn’t drag my brother into this. Jude’s fine with me bringing the boys to the office, he even set up beds for them. But I’ve never outright called them a necessity before.

This might be a disaster.

My breath starts coming faster and my pulse spikes as scenarios play through my mind. What if Tyberius causes problems with Jude? What if Jude begins to look too closely into what’s happening to me . . . Then he’ll let our parents know and they’ll be disappointed in me. I don’t want them to worry about me, to see how broken I still am.

What if my entire family finds out that I’m still not okay? I repeat several times in my mind.

What if?

The walls of the room seem to bend inward as I struggle to pull in enough air. I can feel the panic attack creeping up on me, threatening to overwhelm my crumbling defenses. My skin grows clammy with cold sweat.

Then David is twining urgently around my wobbling legs, letting out plaintive mews. I sit on the floor trying to control my breathing. Rigby whines and butts his head hard against my trembling hands, big brown eyes pleading. I focus on burying my fingers deep into Rigby’s warm and silky fur, using the sensations to anchor myself against the rising tide of anxiety. David’s insistent purr and the solid, living weight of their bodies crowd out the crashing waves in my mind.

Gradually, my constricted lungs remember to expand. The room rights itself again. “Good boys,” I murmur, as I kiss each of their heads. By the time Ty’s response appears, I’ve regained my balance. I take a deep breath and pick up my phone again.

Ty: Are they well trained? I’ve heard some animals don’t like to be around kids.

Indie: Let’s start with, David and Rigby aren’t animals—they’re my furbabies. They’re well trained to be around people and adore children.

Ty: What if Myra gets too attached to them?

Indie: This would be an amazing learning moment for her. She can have friends that doesn’t mean they’ll live with her forever.

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