Page 93 of A Furever Home
“The dogs!” I said as he half-dragged me down the hall.
“You first. Here.” We reached the side door and there were my phone, Cheyenne’s, and Brooklyn’s side by side on the floor.
“Did you call 9-1-1?” I asked. “I mean, the cops. He tried to kidnap her.”
The firefighter cursed as I slipped out of his grasp to pick up my phone. “Outside, sir. Now! Worry about the rest later.”
I hit the emergency button, but let him haul me out the door, away from the building, and around toward the front. A cop car came screaming down the road toward us and peeled into the lot, so I guess my call was unneeded. I shut off the voice of the dispatcher, sticking the phone in my pocket. The cops leaped out of their car and ran toward Brooklyn, Cheyenne, and Harvey.
Fifty feet away, the firefighters were shooting water through the broken window into my shelter.
Better than fire. Keep the babies safe.
“Wait here,” my rescuer said, letting go of my arm and sprinting to help his buddies.
I wasn’t about to do that when Brooklyn and Cheyenne could be still at risk from Harvey. Ignoring my screaming leg, I trudged in their direction. As I approached, I could see that luckily, one of the two officers had been among the cops responding to Harvey’s first kidnapping attempt. She had her cuffs on the right person, as Harvey snarled and cursed on the pavement.
“…can be used against you in a court of law,” she was saying as I approached. The other cop stood over the gun which lay on the ground, and was speaking into his radio.
Brooklyn must’ve caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, because he dropped his arm from around Cheyenne’s shoulders and charged my way. “Arthur! Dammit! You bastard!” He lunged at me, catching me in a hug so ferocious I almost fell.
“Hey, hey, I’m okay,” I wheezed.
“You could’ve died!” He squeezed me again, then shoved me away. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That there are fourteen dogs, nineteen cats, and two rabbits in there, and seconds count.” I peered over his shoulder. The firefighters were still working, but they didn’t seem excited, and no one was chopping holes for more hoses. I breathed a sigh and prayed that we were safe. “I couldn’t let them burn.”
“Fuck!” Brooklyn yanked at his hair. “Yes, okay, it would be tragic to lose any of the fur-babies. But Arthur, I’d trade all of them in a heartbeat for you. If you die, who’s going to save the two thousand cats and dogs you’ll help in the years to come?”
“The shelter would find someone. I’m not irreplaceable.” I knew that.
“You are to me.” Brooklyn stepped close. The sunset colors lit his eyes to green and gold, wide and scared in his perfect face. He put his hands against my bearded cheeks and held me still, looking so deep into my eyes I thought he might see my soul. “You are irreplaceable to me. If you died, it would rip my heart out. Don’t do that to me, Arthur. Please.”
I met his gaze, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly special. Truly loved, not an afterthought, not a second choice. Brooklyn’s murmur of, “You’re my heart. There’s no one in the world like you,” filled up that dark, bleeding space inside me that had been carved deep through years of not being enough for the people I’d desperately cared for. Filled it and overflowed.
“I love you,” I said. “I won’t do that again.” And then, because I couldn’t resist. “Of course, with luck, the need won’t arise again.”
Brooklyn stared at me, then cursed and kissed me, hard and passionately. When we broke apart, he said, “I love you too. And you’re still a bastard. How can you joke about this?”
I looked over his shoulder at the flurry of emergency personnel swarming the parking lot. Laugh or I’d cry? But even though I was still terrified, the emergency seemed to be under control.
An ambulance had arrived, but it was Harvey they were loading. Cheyenne stood close to a cop, who had her arm around the girl. The firefighters were talking more than firefighting, while guys in two different uniforms began striding our way.
And here in my arms was the man I’d somehow, unexpectedly, wonderfully, when I’d given up hope, come to love. So I kissed him one more time before I said, “You take Cheyenne, who probably needs a doctor, and the cops. I’ll take the animals and the firefighters. Meet back at your place?”
“Dammit.” Brooklyn nodded and gave me the gift of his smile, complete with lopsided dimples. “I’m not done yelling at you. But yeah. Deal. I’ll see you at home. Take care of yourself, though.”
I’d have quipped, always do, but Brooklyn would’ve scorned that for the lie it was. Brooklyn was the guy who really cared what happened to me, and he deserved only the truth. So I simply said, “You too. And Cheyenne,” before turning to meet the guy in the turnout gear to find out how my shelter full of furry critters stood, while Brooklyn walked forward to meet the cop.
CHAPTER 22
BROOKLYN
“I think they should’ve given you a rabies shot.” I plopped next to Cheyenne on the couch in the family room, glad to stop moving after hours of hell.
Chili launched herself onto the couch next to me and nuzzled my arm.
Eb sat at Cheyenne’s side. On the couch.
