Page 63 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

Leo, who’s lazing away on a bed of rocks, lifts his head, and I swear he makes direct eye contact with me like he knows we’re talking about him.

“You weren’t kidding about him being your emotional support turtle?”

“I’mhisemotional support handler. And, no. Why would I lie about that?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“Because he’s a turtle?”

“Yes.” I take another careful sip of my coffee. “It wouldn’t be as weird if it was like, I don’t know, a cat or something.”

“Nah.” Dean shakes his head. “I hate cats.”

“Hey!” I point to my lap. “Morris can hear you!”

“I said what I said, Morris.”

Meow.

“Pretty sure that meansFeeling’s mutualin cat.”

He chuckles. “You’re probably right.”

“What made you get an emotional support turtle?” Dean opens his mouth to correct me, and I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I had a good story, but I was just walking by the shelter not long after I moved here and saw a sign that saidVolunteers Needed. I didn’t know anyone in town yet and still had time before school started, so I figured why not? I had nothing better to do.” His tone is casual, but the way he glances over at Leo with a smile on his lips tells a different story. “About a week into volunteering, this little guy was brought in. He was wild captured and taken care of for a couple of years before he was accidentally run over by one of those big Power Wheels cars. His shell was badly cracked, and the family didn’t want to fix him, so they surrendered him to the shelter. Luckily, he was able to be patched back up, but it can take a long time for a shell to heal. I felt awful for him. He’s a turtle, you know? Not some fluffy cat or chubby little puppy. Nobody was going to give him the time of day. So, I took him home. He’s been with me since.”

He puts his hand up to the terrarium and Leo makes his way over to the glass, tapping his head against where Dean’s palm is like they’ve done it a million times before.

My heart melts.

He pulls his hand away, putting his attention back on his plate. “Anyway, I’m not able to go as often during the school year because I’m so busy, but I try to dedicate at least two days a week to the shelter during the summer.”

He might talk like he only walked into the shelter because he was bored, but it’s clear he has a soft spot in his heart for broken things.

He looks over at me, chewing the last of his food. “What?” he asks, swallowing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

Only it’s not.

I’m starting to think Dean might not be as bad as I once thought.

Still annoying? Yes.

But maybe there’s more to him than I thought…and that could be dangerous.

“You never answered me,” he says.

“What did you ask?”

“Do you want me to make myself scarce in the apartment today?”

“No.”

“Cool. Want to go do something fun with me, then? Something to help blow off steam and maybe help you relax?”

“Sure.”

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