they were on vacation. I didn’t want to spoil their time so I chose not to say anything about being shot.
After spending the majority of the time trying to convince them that nothing was going on, I then fielded a call from the judge. He of course was assessing my ability to litigate at the trial scheduled to start on Friday.
After assuring him that I would be able to make it through the trial in two days—please sweet baby Jesus let that be true—we were arriving at the house.
Now Carmichael was standing in front of me, looking at me warily.
“You’re ashen,” she declared.
“I don’t do well in the car,” I admitted.
On top of the already present nausea from the pain, I was now motion sick.
Fun times.
“Y’all have everything?” Flint asked.
I gave him a thumb up and kept walking, my stomach tight with pain.
“Call if you need anything,” Flint honked twice, making me twitch.
Then he was heading down the street toward his own house.
“Twat,” she said. “He knew that’d scare you.”
I knew that, too.
At least he didn’t have my horn.
I’d put an air horn on my truck a couple of months ago because I’d thought it was awesome. I’d yet to get the chance to scare anyone.
One day…
“What are you grinning about?” she asked, looking at me.
I licked my lips. “I was thinking about the fact that I just got a new air horn put on my truck because your brother thinks it’s fucking hilarious to scare us with his squad car. I can’t wait to get him back.”
Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“Please, please let me do this to him when he comes over tomorrow morning,” she pleaded.
I snorted. “No way, Jose. That’s my brand-new gift to myself for my birthday. I get to scare him first.”
She sighed. “You’re no fun.”
Together we walked to my door, and when we arrived, I handed her my keys, unsure if my shaking hands would allow me to put the key into the lock or not.
She opened it up and blinked in surprise when she saw my dog.
“Is that a…” She paused.
“Corgi poodle Australian Shepherd mix,” I said as I walked into the room and over Lion’s dancing body. “Would you catch the door? She’s usually really good about peeing outside now, but she’s still a puppy, and I’ve been gone longer than I intended.”
“How do you know what kind of mix she is?” Carmichael asked as she walked away, Lion close on her heels. “And when did you get her?”
“I found her outside the office a couple of weeks ago. And I had one of those dog DNA tests done on her because I was curious what the fuck she was. When I first found her, she had straight hair. Now it’s curly as fuck,” I answered as I shuffled toward the couch.
Before I got there, though, I hesitated. “I need to take a shower. Can you…”
“Listen for you in case you fall?” she asked pleasantly from my back door.
I nodded once. “Yeah, that.”
“I’ll be in your room waiting. Make sure you take some clothes into the bathroom with you. If you need help, scream.” She winked.
I would.
Maybe.
Hopefully I didn’t have to, though.
As I shuffled up the stairs, taking a break on the fourth and the eighth, I thought about how I felt to have her in my house.
It felt… surreal.
Like it shouldn’t be happening.
Was this my life? Was that all it took to get her here? Me being shot?
Maybe I should straight-up ask her.
Thinking that made me smile as I headed into my room.
Luckily the scrub pants came off a lot easier than they went on, and I was in the shower moments later, washing off the blood and grime from the parking lot.
I washed carefully, keeping my arm elevated and out of the water.
Using one hand to wash your body was tough. Unfortunately, it was my dominant hand that was compromised and that made it just a little bit harder to clean up with my right hand.
Once I was done, I got out and dried off with the towel that I’d dropped onto the floor this morning.
I would have to beg my sister to come over and do laundry when she got back.
I was in desperate need yesterday. By the time she got back I would be on day two of wearing some of my sweats.
It’d cost me a babysitting day or two, but she’d do it without too much complaint.
After finding my one single pair of clean sweatpants, an old pair