Page 77 of Pit

“It’s a dog. A sick-looking dog,” I add, frowning.

“Yeah. He needs some TLC.”

“And a bath.”

I climb from his lap and drop to my knees, holding out my hand for the dog to sniff. He does so cautiously. “He was with your dad,” Pit adds.

I stroke the dog’s bony head. “He mistreated you too,” I mutter, and the dog leans into my touch. He drags himself closer until he can rest his head in my lap, and my heart melts a little.

“Maybe you can learn to trust together,” Pit suggests.

“I told you, I’m scared of big dogs,” I remind him. Pit stands, reaching down to scoop the dog into his arms. The thought of him taking him away makes me stand too. “But I guess I can see how it goes,” I rush to add.

Pit grins. “I wasn’t taking him away. I don’t know if King and Gigi will take to a new dog, and this guy needs someone to care for him. I know you can do it, Te.”

“What’s his name?” I ask, following Pit up the stairs.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

“Hope?” I suggest, and Pit laughs.

“You can’t call him that. He’ll get bullied by other big dogs if you call that out in the park.”

I grin as we go into the bathroom. “Lucky?”

“That’s a cat’s name.”

“You said whatever I want,” I argue. “What about Chance?”

Pit gives a nod. “Chance, it is.”

He dumps the dog in the bath and turns on the shower, making sure it’s pointed away while he waits for the temperature to get warmer. He shrugs out of his kutte, handing it to me, and I place it on the hook at the back of the door. “Did he say anything?” I ask, watching as his tattooed hands run through Chance’s fur.

“Your dad?” I nod. “No. I didn’t give him a chance. But he’s still a prick. The neighbours hate him. He takes prostitutes in, and they steal from the locals. He owes money all over the place and his house was a shithole. The dog crapped everywhere, and he didn’t clean it up. There was no food in for the poor thing,” he tells me, taking my shampoo from the shelf and squirting it over Chance. He massages it in, taking his time.

“Do you have to leave again?” I ask, holding my breath for his answer.

“It depends,” he says, rinsing the shampoo away, “on whether you want me to leave.”

I turn away to grab a towel, smiling to myself. “Do you want to stay?” I ask, handing it to him.

He wraps Chance up and lifts him from the tub, passing him to me. He’s lighter than I expected, and I take him back downstairs, where I set him on the kitchen floor and begin to rub him dry.

Pit joins us with the quilt cover from the spare bed. “He can sleep on this,” he says, placing it in the corner of the kitchen floor. “I’ll pick him a bed up when the shops open.”

He goes to my fridge and pulls out a pack of ham. Kneeling beside me, he breaks pieces off and handfeeds them to Chance, who gobbles them greedily.

“Poor thing,” I mutter, tickling him under the chin.

“It’s a new start,” says Pit. “For both of you.”

“And you?” I ask.

His smile fades. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

I stop drying Chance and turn to him. “Why are you fighting this?”

“Because I need you to know what you’re agreeing too, Tessa.” He gives the dog the rest of the ham and stands. I follow, waiting patiently while he washes his hands. Chance curls up on the quilt and closes his eyes. “He’s made himself at home,” says Pit with a smile.

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