Page 52 of Light My Fire

CHAPTER 12

Jackson

I hearfootsteps on the stairs, but can tell by how light they are that it’s Brooke coming down.

My heart starts pounding.

I feel like I’m thirteen and have a crush on a girl for the first time. What is this? The woman was just upstairs for the past several hours, having sex with my best friend. For the first time for herever.

Yet I’m lying here on the couch, my stomach twisting, anticipating the chance to talk to her alone in the dark in the middle of the night.

It’s four a.m. I know why she’s down here. There’s a bathroom attached to Wyatt’s room, so unless she’s hungry after the rigorous activities, she’s down here to check on the dogs.

And I already know her.

This is completely about the dogs.

I hear her start across the kitchen toward the laundry room where the dogs were last she knew.

“Brooke,” I whisper into the dark, not wanting to startle her.

“Jackson?”

I sit up slowly. This cabin has crazy ass windows. They cover the entire one side of the house and the moonlight, and lights strung across the deck, along with the soft glow of the light over the stove in the kitchen, give us enough light to easily see one another.

“Hey,” I say. “They’re in here. Closer to the fire.”

She starts toward me and I pray to God that she’s wearing more than just one of Wyatt’s shirts and panties or something.

As she steps into the living area, I sigh with relief, realizing she pulled on her leggings and sweatshirt from earlier.

“You’re sleeping down here with them?” she asks, noticing the pillow and blanket on the couch.

“I didn’t want them to be alone tonight. Just in case any of them needed anything.”

I didn’t want to be too close to Wyatt’s bedroom, either. I didn’t want to hear the two of them through the wall, but it’s the truth about the dogs, so I don’t feel bad leaving the rest of that out.

“That’s sweet,” she says softly. She looks at the dogs, sleeping peacefully in the box we made for them. Henley is curled around the puppies and they’re all snuggled against one another for heat and comfort.

“How are they doing?” she asks.

I get off the couch and kneel by the box. Brooke joins me on the carpet. “Good. Henley ate a little bit, and I took her out again. The pups have all nursed and have moved around a bit, but mostly everybody has been sleeping.”

Henley has awakened with our voices and the movement around her box. Brooke reaches out to the dog, who sniffs her, then gives her hand a lick.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” Brooke tells her. She smooths her hand over the top of the dog's head. “I wish we didn’t have to leave them so soon.”

“We’re not going to,” I tell her. I haven’t worked out the details, but I’ve decided I’m going to offer the neighbors a crazy amount of money for Henley and the pups. I’ll figure out some way to get them back to Chicago, even if I need to hang back for an extra couple of days to get it arranged.

Brooke lifts her eyes to mine. “What do you mean?”

“I’m adopting them.”

“All of them?” Her voice is a little louder with her surprise.

I reach out and stroke Nugget’s back with one finger. I am especially attached to him, but I can’t imagine leaving him here for six weeks and I really don’t think I can trust him, his siblings, and his mother to the neighbors.

“Yeah. I don’t want to split them up.”

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