Page 95 of Because of the Dar

My friends hold their breath, and my heart stutters before taking off and pounding against my rib cage. "Where is my dog?"

God, please don't tell me something happened to her.

"Uh, well…" Mags stammers—something she never does.

Kiwi chews on his bottom lip, and he might as well be strangling me.

"W-where is Echo?" I repeat myself a third time.

Mags looks at Kiwi for…help? What the—

"She's with Wes," he rushes out so fast I do a double take.

She's with Wes.His words reverberate in my mind. She is with Wes. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

They jolt at my screech, but I couldn't care less. "Why the hell ismy dogwith my ex-boyfriend? You told me last week that she was fine." I level them with a glare that would've made my mother proud. I had asked them during every phone call how my baby—canine baby—was doing, and every single time, they assured me she was great.

"So, uh…" Kiwi tries to form words, but I'm past patience. Don't tell a pregnant girl her dog is gone. Let alone that she's with the one person who hates her most.

"Wes has been hanging out." Mags picks at her nails.

I bore my eyes into her. "Explain."

"He's been checking on Echo when I have to work. He's been coming to The Grizz again. But he's…he—"

"He what?" I throw my arms up.

"He's not been doing well. Especially after I set him straight," Kiwi tries his luck. "He drinks. His injury cost him his spot on the team for the season."

Set him straight? Injury?

I can't let myself ask about either. I thrust my hand out. "Keys."

"What?" Mags blinks.

"Roe-Roe, I don't think it's a good idea—"

"ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING CAR KEYS RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" I'm bordering on hysteria. I'm overreacting. I could've asked one of them to drive me, but I am tired, hungry, and my baby has been sitting on my bladder for the past hour.

Kiwi digs out his keys, and I snatch them before he can say another word. I will stop along the way to pee, even if it is in the bushes.

I probably break halfa dozen traffic laws on my way, which, in the back of my mind, I know isn't safe. There is still snow on the ground. I stop in front of the short driveway, blocking the garage of Kai and Wes's townhouse in the process. That way, no one can make a run for it.

Throwing the door open with more force than necessary, I exit the car. The light shining through the large windows illuminates the front walkway like a stadium, all the way down to the sidewalk. Do they have every freaking lamp in the house on? What a waste of electricity. Fucking rich people. And why the hell do I care? For a split second, as my foot hits the first step, I slow down. What if they're having a party? I'm not ready to face anyone. My trembling hands make matters worse. Is this nervous anxiety or plain rage? Curling my fingers into fists, I make the decision: rage. Before I can change my mind, I let myself in—ready to clock the son-of-a-bitch dog thief if I have to.

My eardrums are assaulted by a cacophony of sound. What the hell? "Numb" by August Alsina is blaring through the speakers of their club-worthy sound system. Something like gunshots accompany the bass, and when I round the corner to the open-concept kitchen-living room, I see the TV playing some type of action movie.

My anger disintegrates, and my heart freezes mid-beat. Wes is sprawled out on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table, head resting on the back, eyes closed. He's holding a bottle of…somethingin one hand, and the other rests on Echo, who is curled up next to him with her snout tucked between Wes and the couch.

I'm dizzy. I was so consumed by rage that he took my dog that I didn't consider for a second what it would do to me to see him again.

Despite the volume in the room, I tiptoe closer. Not that he would've heard me if I wore tap shoes attached to a megaphone while crossing the hardwood floor. With every step, my pulse increases from a slow jog to a full-on sprint, and I am unsure what to do. Wes doesn't move, and neither does Echo. I lower myself onto the other side of the L-shaped couch and wait. They don't stir as I watch them, drinking in Wes's gorgeous features. Finally, I take the universal remote and tap the mute buttons for both systems. Echo instantly jolts into a sitting position and presses herself against Wes protectively. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear she narrows them at me accusingly.

Like I didn't already feel guilty enough. Or maybe it's the mother in me talking.

"Hey, girl," I whisper low, not wanting to wake Wes. Yet.

Echo tilts her head, and after a moment of hesitation, she jumps the entire length of the sectional and lands next to me. Her front paws are on my shoulders, and she greets me with sloppy doggy kisses. A laugh bubbles up, and I attempt to ward her off and hug her at the same time. I've missed my fur baby so much.

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