Page 52 of The Sinner and the Scholar
“Me? You brought it home.” She rubs her tired eyes.
“I had no idea it would wake us in the middle of the night to go pee-pee.”
She gives him a wry smile and touches her swollen belly. “What do you think the baby will do?”
“You’re right. Of course, you are, and I suppose we should treat this as practice.”
Something is captivating about them. My steps slow. They’re out in the dark morning hours, dressed in pajamas and dressing gowns, walking a naughty puppy, but they’re still smiling at each other.
The puppy spots us. Barks. It runs toward us so fast that I wonder if I have jerky in my pockets. The young woman cries out, and the leash flies from her fingers. The puppy bounds onto the street, oblivious to the oncoming car.
My feet move before my brain catches up. I scoop up the dog in one hand, keep running, and hit the other sidewalk just as the car whooshes past with a honk of frustration that blares in the night. Asshole.
“I got him.” Wesley arrives at my side and takes the wriggling furball.
I don’t want to let go, but when I see the adoration in Wesley’s eyes, I can’t help myself. The moment the puppy wiggles into his arms, it licks him and yips. But then a shadow of something drops from beneath its wagging tail.
I glance down at the sidewalk and cover my mouth, hiding my grin. “It pooped.”
“Must be a scared, little bugger.” Wesley coos and pats it. “You’re all right, mate. You’re safe.”
You’re safe.
Those two words unsettle me. They’re words I’ve only heard from my Sinner family. Prue, in particular. I clear my throat and point at the wagging puppy tail. “It doesn’t look afraid.”
“He’s too little to know what he feels, don’t you, mate?” Wesley nuzzles it. “That’s a good lad.”
The young couple makes it to our side. She’s crying and gasping, panicking, and he looks like he will vomit.
“Thank you,” he says, putting his arm around his partner. “I don’t know what we would have done if…”
The woman gulps and holds her heaving belly. I don’t know what to say to calm her down. I turn to Wesley for help.
His eyes crinkle as the puppy licks his face, disrupting his spectacles. Its joy is contagious. I can’t help envisioning him as a father, seeing him with a plate of food in his hand, laughing and chatting with visiting family as his children run around his legs and hide under the table.
He’s patient with the puppy. I admire the good in him, but at the same time, a dark part of me wants to make him bad—to close that gap between us.
“All good, mate,” Wesley says to the man. “But you might want to pick up the shite before someone steps on it.”
The couple realizes what the dog has done and bluster even more.
“I got it.” I take the bag from the man’s hand and quickly dispose of the waste.
“How will we look after a baby if we can’t keep a puppy safe?” The woman’s voice trembles too much to believe she’ll sleep tonight.
“You’ll learn.” Wesley’s calm voice inspires confidence as he returns the puppy to them. “It takes time, but you learn.”
“Thank you again,” the woman murmurs to me. “You could have been killed.”
“Don’t mention it. You got this.” I squeeze her arm.
“You two must be pros at this parenting thing,” she replies. “How old are your children?”
“Oh.” Wesley blushes and straightens his specs. “We’re—”
“They’re five and eight,” I reply quickly with a tight smile. The urge to fuck with Wes is getting stronger. I pat him on the chest. “Just the right age to start getting into trouble. Ain’t that right, babe?”
His expression is unreadable as he stares at me. It’s like he’s never seen me before. For a moment, I worry he’ll blow our story and storm off, but his focus snaps back to the couple with a broad smile that steals my breath.
