Page 52 of Subscriber Wars

Vee nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll let him know we’re here.”

I grab the bags and follow her up the front porch steps of an old farmhouse. She raps on the screen door, which I can see straight through.

“Uncle Mason!” She yells with no answer. She turns to me and tips her chin. “He’s probably around back. Come on.”

My heart beats erratically. “Don’t you think you should call him first before we just go around the back?”

Is this not how her horror movies start?

“Don’t be silly. He doesn’t mind.”

I find it hard to believe that a Marine doesn’t mind if his niece, or whatever she is to him, traipses through his house with a strange guy in tow. Yeah, cue the credits because this movie is going to be over before it begins.

Vee opens the screen door and motions for me to follow. “Did you text Brick the address?”

“Yeah. He’s on his way.” My focus is everywhere but on the conversation.

Vee’s uncle’s place is spacious and rustic, much like you’d think a cabin in the woods would be. But where you would think it would have deer heads hung on the wall, there’s black and white framed pictures with who I assume is her uncle and a blonde-haired woman. In most of the pictures, they have this German Shepherd dog with them that’s always staring up at the woman like, he too, loves her.

“That’s Killer,” Vee says, noticing me staring at the photos. “She was my Uncle Mason’s service dog. She died a few years after I was born.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Vee smiles. “She was the reason my uncle opened this place. Her death was devastating for him.”

“I can only imagine,” I tell her, taking once last look at the photo. “I’ve never had a pet before. My sister was—”

“Allergic?”

I nod. “Something like that.”

Vee doesn’t pry, and I’m grateful. She already knows more than I would like her to know about my past.

“Come on. Let me introduce you to the dogs.” She’s excited. The pep in her voice gives it away.

“Alright.” I motion for her to lead the way and then I wipe my palms on my jeans. For some reason, I feel fucking nervous. It could be that we aren’t at a pet store and these aren’t puppies like Vee makes them out to be. Or it could be that Vee and I, out on a semi-adventure, feels a lot like old times. Either way, my anxiety is high.

Once out of her uncle’s house, I relax. Maybe it wasn’t the dogs or the adventure. Maybe my ass didn’t want to get thrown to the ground in a choke hold. Vee leads us out to a barn where barking starts the minute we get close.

“They know we’re out here,” she says with a smile.

“Super.”

I hope they don’t attack strangers or men with Vee. She tends to bring the crazy out in people.

“Who’s excited to see fresh meat?” she calls out as she punches the keypad.

“What?”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Relax, you big sissy. They won’t hurt you.”

I flash her a bored look, so she knows I’m not amused with her shitty jokes.

“I’m serious,” she tells me. “Here, hold my hand. I’ll protect you.”

She thinks she’s being fucking cute by making fun of me, but honestly, her hand feels nice, so I’ll play her game for a few minutes. At least until I can get a better read on the dogs and their temperament.

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