Page 66 of Good Guy Gabe

Except I won’t know because he’s not an actual pet, so I’m just going to walk out and find him dead on my doorstep.

I pat my knuckle against the corner of my eye. I’m okay with the trash. It’s something to clean up, that’s all. I’m happy I got up early this morning to crank the heat up in the barn for Barb’s early class and saw this before the students did. But I don’t like the thought that this might have harmed Jerry. He’s an innocent raccoon. He didn’t do anything wrong.

“It’s just plain terrible,” Rachel laments as she corrals the recycling bin’s contents with a rake. The receipt paper and thinner stock we use for paper piecing didn’t fare well in the snow, so I’m not sure what else to do there. “I’m starting to think this isn’t ever going to stop unless you leave.”

I want to tell her she’s wrong, but I’m not in the mood to lie. I’m not leaving, so it doesn’t matter. I do have to consider this more seriously, what with the baby on the way, but running away isn’t the solution. More security lights. A fence. A proper security system. I’ve been dragging my heels over a security camera doorbell, but I should start there. In the meantime, I’mhappy Rachel showed up half an hour early for Barb’s class and offered to help clean.

I finish my coffee and tug on a set of gloves from the shed. Snow starts to fall as I bend down to pick up the first handful of trash. It muffles the world, makes the task gentler. I’m not being harassed, I’m just doing clean-up. This is fine.

“Can I help?”

I look back at the unfamiliar voice, surprised to see Keira Allore on the walkway, her toddler stumbling in front of her in a puffy snowsuit so well padded that if she actually fell, I’m pretty sure she’d bounce.

I freeze, momentarily a deer in the headlights, and then look around to see if Gabe is hiding somewhere, like this is some comedy and he’s managed to tuck over 300 pounds behind the lamp post.

I take a step back, my nerves fraying. Keira’s not going to attack me or anything, not physically, but she’s certainly proven herself adept at hurting my feelings.

She holds her hands up in surrender. “I just want to talk, I swear.” She frowns at the mess around her. “And help you clean this up. Did a raccoon get into your trash or something?”

“No, he’s a good raccoon,” I say automatically. Jerry’s been getting a lot of bad press lately that he doesn’t deserve. “I’m more worried he’s going to get sick from this.”

Keira finds a clean spot to lead the baby — Shelby, if I remember right — to and pulls out a collection of toys to keep her amused. Shelby immediately starts making snowballs, contained for the moment as Keira scoops up a handful of fabric clippings and brings them to me for bagging.

“I’m sorry.”

I swallow, still feeling skittish, thinking now would be a good time for that flight response to kick in. I feel like I’m back in my high school days, when the movies told me that being pretty would make me popular, but I was the wrong kind of pretty. Keira’s the right kind of pretty, her naturally deep auburn hair and green eyes, her slightly wide-set features just unusual enough to be exotic, her presence bold and commanding. She was a cheerleader, probably already dating local legend Evan. I bet they were prom king and queen.

The mean girls at my high school were monsters. I tried to be kind to everyone and make friends with the other kids who were ostracized for their extra-curriculars. That made the mean girls a special sort of monster with me, fake-befriending me one week just to pull humiliating pranks on me the following week.

Keira’s apology sounds an awful lot like a threat.

She frowns as she deposits the scraps in the bag and immediately takes a step back. “Gabe’s one of my favorite people, and he won’t be my friend anymore.”

I let the words sink in as I study her bright, flawless, entrancing face. Gorgeous. If pageants really were just about beauty, she would have trounced me.

“Rachel, you should go get ready for class. You don’t want to be late.”

She looks between us as though she’s making sure I’m safe, but Keira’s baby’s right here. Besides, I’m sure if she was going to hurt me, she’d have someone else do it. Or she’d go right for my feelings, and my feelings have built up quite the callus. I can take what she’s going to dish out.

I’m in a mood. I know it. I’m being irrational to prove that she is a mean girl, and I hate that she’s prettier than me. I’m going to be petty here, and I don’t need Rachel witnessing it.

At my nod of assurance, Rachel grudgingly heads off.

“You win, okay?” I stomp past Keira to scoop up the pizza box from two nights ago and use it to scrape the chicken wings accompanying it out of the snow. “I’m not going to games and he’s not my boyfriend anymore, so you can have him back. Just leave me alone.”

Keira trails after me with a long strip of batting I’m surprised she even spotted in the snow and a paper bag that likely contains used blades or broken glass. I snatch it from her so she doesn’t try to send me to jail for letting her cut herself on my trash.

“Please, Joss. I promise I’m not here to fight. Gabe is devastated. Evan says he’s actually worried that Gabe is going to hurt himself, whether it’s on purpose or just being reckless on the field.”

“And ruin your precious game.” I stare down at a pile of dirt I’m fairly sure is the contents of one of the shop vacuums. “I’ve ruined everything else in Wilmington. It stands to reason I’ll ruin the Jugs.”

Keira shakes her head and mildly curses under her breath. “You didn’t. You don’t. I shouldn’t have ever gotten in your business like I did. I was just scared you were going to hurt Gabe.”

“Well, he hurt me, so I guess you didn’t need to worry.”

“I didn’t have a lot of friends in high school, okay?”

With the most exacerbated huff, I stomp toward a bag that looks intact, but looks can be deceiving. Mean girls can bedeceiving. They can make up stupid lies likeI didn’t have a lot of friends in high school.

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