Page 4 of Sneak Attack

How the fifty-pound puppy managed to knock it over, much less escape from his metal kennel that was perfectly locked when I checked it, still made me wonder.

Bongo, who was mostly house trained except for when he got overly excited with any visitor, was at the back door, long, furry and golden tail whipping against the glass as he whined at the leaves blowing in the wind.

Great.

I grabbed his leash from the wall next to the door and fought through his fur to get it on, get him outside, frustrated with the dog I was coerced into getting against my will, Jasper’s procrastination every morning and the fact that even though it worked, and it was mostly healthy, I had to hand him over to Selma before I went to work almost every day.

Our custody worked easier than most separated parents I knew. She worked nights at a hospital in Nashville four nights a week, working seven to seven. I got Jasper every night she worked. She picked him up on her way home and dropped him off at preschool or one of our parents’ houses, leaving me an hour to get ready by myself before I headed to either the practice facility or to the gym in the off-season. We switched off in the evening when Jasper saw his parents who might not be together but still cared about each other—and him—and then, on the weekends, we alternated. Some holidays were done together, depending on whose family was around or if trips were planned, or whether I had a home or away game.

As amicable as it was, saying goodbye to my kid every day knowing he was shipped back and forth to two homes, grated on me daily. The shit of it was, I had the power to fix it…but that meant living with Selma. Marrying her. Committing to her.

And I didn’t feel a single urge to do any of that, even if she kept trying.

Like with Bongo.

As predicted, my dog lunged for a leaf, almost yanking me off my feet. I gave him a quick tug.

“Heel.”

He refused. On the hunt, I gave him a little lead on the leash.

I’d work on training him better this weekend, my weekend alone.

Hell, maybe I’d forgo handing him off to Selma and put him in doggy daycare like I kept threatening. Maybe a board and train.

The animal could certainly use it.

A knock rapped on the sliding door, and in my peripheral, I caught sight of teal scrubs.

Shit. “Come on, Bongo.”

I pulled him back inside, unsurprised that Selma was already there. She never wasted a minute getting to my house, but she didn’t usually walk inside like she owned it. Her presence, along with Jasper’s procrastination, forced me to suck in a deep breath and clench my mouth shut before I spewed my irritation at her.

It was more than Selma.

She’dbe back in town today. Maybe already was.

Seven years and I wasn’t ready. Not for a minute to run the risk of meeting her on the street.

When I was with Jasper at the park.

Shopping at the grocery store.

Ever since Marley told me she’d asked Eden to return, I’d counted down to this day. Anticipation. Fury. Guilt. It clawed at me, kept me up at night, last night in particular.

It was like I could sense her. Practically smell her again. So much so that it was all I’d been able to do not to stop by Marley’s last night, see if a car was there. Keep my ass inside so I didn’t go to my parents’ house and wander to the one place we always seemed to find each other when we needed each other the most.

“You look like crap.” Selma’s smile, most likely dazzling to everyone else, was tight.

“Considering you’re on day three of your night shifts, I could say the same.”

That smile she used to dazzle others dripped with disdain.

So, we got along and cared about each other—that didn’t mean I’d ever actually liked her. The only good thing to have come from my lifelong friendship with Selma was Jasper.

“Charming as always.”

You’re the one who wants me.

---