Page 49 of Winning Brynn

Why did it sound like she saidsacrifice?

"Yeah," I say, but my voice cracks as I do. "Yes," I try again, stronger this time, if not a little too loud.

My gaze swings around the room we're in. Gray, dank, and cold, lined with metal cages containing animals with sad eyes and scruffy coats. To my horror, my heart dips with an inexplicably fierce desire to take them all home.

"Do you really kill the animals who don't get adopted?" I ask quietly, as if in fear of being overheard.

The woman falters, her eyes flashing with discomfort. She clears her throat then steels her shoulders. "Some get euthanized, yes."

Shit.

"Would you still like to go ahead?" she asks softly, her head tilted to one side.

I freeze.

Fuck.

I don't want the cat. I hate cats. They're tiny assholes with a superiority complex who think a great gift is a half-massacred bird left on their owner's pillow.

I don't want one around my daughter, even if he is at a disadvantage with reduced hearing and a missing limb. And that's without mentioning that he'd be living thirty stories above ground level, where access to wildlife is limited.

Would it really be so bad to keep him? He doesn't need much more than a litter box, and I could get some of that cat repellent to spray on the furniture to stop him from scratching it.

No.

I can't seriously be considering keeping him.

Shaking myself out of my temporary lapse in sanity, I nod my head. "Yeah, I'd still like to go ahead, please."

She shoots me a dubious look in response but keeps whatever she's thinking to herself. Busying herself with something beside the desk, she says, "I just need you to sign a couple of things, and there will be a fee."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." Glancing down at Gordon in his box, his silver-striped fur glinting in the light as he trembles, I swallow around a lump in my throat. "Do you think he'll get adopted? I know he looks a bit funny, and he's missing some significant body parts, but that won't put people off...right?"

I trail off, looking at the woman hopefully.

She forces her mouth into a reassuring smile but not quickly enough to hide the grimace that flashed across her face first. "I'm sure he'll be fine." But she doesn't sound convincing.

And I'm not blind.

Poor Gordon is repulsive.

He certainly wouldn't be my first choice if I was in the market for a pet.

"Oh, shoot." She sighs. "I'm all out of forms. Will you be okay if I go and print one off for you quickly?"

I nod silently, not even looking at her as she disappears into another room.

My attention is fixed solely on the small, helpless creature curled into a ball in the box in front of me. So tiny. So fucking defenseless and terrified and pitiful. It's as if Brynn has coached him into exactly how to behave to give him the best shot of piercing through my icy heart.

Because, fuck me, I think it's working.

I might be a cold bastard, but am I a murderer? Could I really leave Gordon here in good conscience, knowing what's likely to happen to him?

Ah, shit.

The epiphany hits me like a dump truck driving above the speed limit—unwelcome and painful.

Fuck it all to hell.

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