Page 13 of All of Me

He studied my face. “Tell me.” So, I did.

“I have no idea who the guy is. Moira’s an only child and so is Albert, and they didn’t have kids.” He frowned. “This doesn’tsound like them. I’ve watched them both sit up all night with a rescue they didn’t think was going to make it.”

“Maybe they didn’t know?” I offered.

Drake looked at his watch. “You good for a few minutes?”

I nodded and grinned when the puppy I really liked stretched his whole length without opening his eyes. I wanted to say “big stretch,” like I’d heard my mom say countless times with my neighbor’s dogs, but that would have been lame, so I kept my mouth shut, and watched Drake walk away.

He returned probably ten minutes later with an older guy I assumed was Albert when he reached out a hand for me to shake and confirmed it. “Son, I can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

I blinked. Not just because it had been a long time since anyone had felt anything resembling gratitude toward me, but because he called me son. “We dropped the ball.” He pulled in a breath. “I had a heart attack five months ago and Moira’s been trying to run everything as well as look after me. Gary is a neighbor. He was a decent lad, but he’s obviously lost his way. I’ll tell him he can’t come back and sort this myself until I get someone else.”

“I can help,” I blurted out before I even thought about it. “I love dogs,” I added. “I just don’t know how long I’ll be here.” I purposely didn’t look at Drake.

Albert chuckled. “Well, Drake vouches for you, so consider yourself hired. I’ll let Moira sort out the nuts and bolts.” One of the puppies woke up and dared to investigate Albert’s foot. His face softened, and he reached down to scratch it behind its ears.

I glanced down at my puppy. The one brown and the one blue eye looking at me intently. I knew he was waiting for me to claim him, but I couldn’t. Gently, I got to my feet. “Let me know their schedule,” I rasped and walked out.

Chapter Six

Shae

I still wasn’t sleeping, and this time it wasn’t the thought of Drake being so close and yet still a million miles away, it was because every time I shut my goddam eyes I saw flames and smelled smoke. Despite what Dad always said, I wasn’t stupid and was convinced he was responsible for both Mom and Gran dying.Two house fires.I knew the fire here had reminded me of Mom. Gran’s in a way as well, even though I hadn’t been there when she died. But the cops hadn’t let me see her body so I could imagine. Then Dad had refused to pay for any sort of cremation, he’d just laughed and said if the government couldn’t handle it, he knew a pig farmer.

At just turned fourteen, I’d had to ask what he meant, and he told me in gleeful detail until I had to run to the bathroom to throw up.

Dr. Brown, who’d treated my heart, said he wouldn’t be surprised if that had triggered my transformation a few days after Gran’s death. Or not that conversation exactly, becauseobviously I never told him that, but he wondered if Gran’s death was the reason I’d woken up feeling crap with a scar on my face a week later. Apparently there was a team of docs trying to work out if stress was a trigger for transforming. I liked Doc Brown, my cardiologist, especially when he laughed after I asked him if that meant I was like the Hulk.

He grinned and told me not to lose my temper around any expensive medical equipment.

I’d forgotten most of the night Mom died. I’d known Dad didn’t give a shit about me at that point, and that he only set fire to Gran’s house when I wasn’t there to ensure I got her money so he could take it from me. He’d told me theold cowhad a will that meant if I was dead it would go to some sort of charity. I had no idea how he knew, and I fully expected to meet the same fate when he got the money.

But then I’d gotten the scar, and Dad decided I might be useful. He knew I could go fast but he’d no idea how fast and I had no intention of showing him. I had no intention of being useful for any reason until he’d threatened Georgia.

Georgia was my best friend at school. Her family lived three houses down from Gran and a block away from Mom’s, and she was braver than me, a ton braver. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, including punching Dave Bennet on the nose in second grade for calling me a girl because I hung around with Georgia instead of the boys.

Georgia’s older sister Michaela said I should take being called a girl as a compliment. And remembering Dave’s hysterical crying when she didn’t even hit him that hard, I reckoned Michaela was right.

I’d been really stupid, though. School was really hit and miss after Gran, but that day had been a miss not just because Gran had died two days before, but because I was sporting a black eye Dad had given me for crying about it. Georgia turned up andbecause she was avoiding my dad, she’d just climbed up the tree next to my window trying to get in. Except he’d locked it. We both tried to open it, and I didn’t think about how much noise we were making until the bedroom door flew open.

Thirty minutes later the cops were at the door because Georgia’s mom and dad had called them.

Dad had seen her. Made it very clear if I didn’t say I’d locked it myself because I was sick of Georgia bothering me, he would make sure Georgia’s house got the samepesttreatment as Gran’s. I didn’t have to ask what that meant.

I didn’t go back to school because three days after that, I’d gotten my scar. Funny how CPS stopped turning up after that. Georgia tried a few more times to see me but eventually stopped when I ignored her.

I reached out and lifted my glass for some water. Determined to get some sleep, I shut my eyes, and didn’t open them even when the flames came back.

Drake.

I was awake instantly and kept very still. Every instinct was screaming at me that something was wrong. Had Ryan made another attempt? Surely even he wasn’t that much of a stupid prick? Then I heard it again. I got up silently and reached for my gun, moving first to the window and checking that no one seemed to be near the front of the house. I opened my bedroom door without a sound either.

Experience had me oiling hinges and memorizing creaking floorboards the first week I moved in.

Then I heard it again and swore, putting the gun down. Because the sound—the whimper—wasn’t anyone outside. As I drew close to the living room, I could see Shae thrashing in the throes of whatever nightmare gripped him. See sweat beadingon his forehead, his face screwed up as horrors chased through his mind.

Fuck, no. Not on my watch.

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