Page 21 of Under Fyre

WRITING LETTERS

When he doesn’t respond immediately, I add,

GUESS IT’S OLD FASHOINED LOL

No response. I sit back in my chair, waiting.

YEAH LOL

I sit forward in a rush. He’s not keen on letters. Because he’s being careful…or because he wants to meet Milly in person?

WE COULD HAVE COFFEE

He doesn’t reply. I pinch my bottom lip, staring at the screen until my eyes start burning.

Why the fuck isn’t he replying?

OR IS THAT OLD FASHOINED 2

Nothing.

Fuckingnothing.

The little icon showing that Brent92 is online winks off. My fist crashes down on the table, and Arrow’s head bobs up from the basket on the other side of the kitchen. She gives me a scornful look, her chest heaving.

“Sorry, pups,” I murmur, gently closing the laptop lid.

You’d think these fuckers would be more than ready to meet up with any piece of ass willing to look their way.

But the best ones are careful.

DaddyNosBest has been around for years. I should probably have chosen a softer target, but something about him calls to me.

I wonder, if I ever walked past him on the street, that I’d somehow know it was him?

And if that were possible…would he knowme?

Chapter Eleven

Fyre

I’m having breakfast at the kitchen table when the Excite shopping bag catches my eye. It’s next to the kitchen door, as if I’d been about to take it outside.

I stare at it for several seconds before I set down my bowl of cereal. I remember putting it in my bedroom closet. What the fuck is it doing out here?

“Think I’m losing my mind, pups?” I ask Arrow, but she doesn’t lift her head from her food bowl. Although her tail does wag, so I know she heard me.

As she gets older, food becomes more and more important to her. Her life revolves around it. That, and the two walks we take each day.

Chasing squirrels? Not as much. Although she almost caught one early yesterday morning.

I take the black shopping bag and head down the hall. As I pass Charlotte’s room, she calls out, “Gideon?”

I stop. I stare down at the bag. The store clerk put pink tissue paper over the top, so I can’t see what’s inside…but I don’t have to. Iknow.

“Just a minute,” I tell her.

But it takes me a few seconds before I can make myself move again.

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