Page 56 of Forget That Guy
I got out, and I could almost convince myself that everything was going to be okay.
Almost.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” the young girl who looked to be all of eighteen cried. “I came over here today and wanted to check on my grandpa. When I came around the back looking for him, I found poor Fox in this state. He was tied up in the back by a rope, and I don’t know if the wolves just attacked him while he was helpless and unable to flee or what. But we need you to check him over.”
I nodded, grabbing my bag and tossing it over my shoulder. “Where do you have him?”
THIRTEEN
Shout out to Netflix for being the only one that checks on me every few hours.
—Holly’s secret thoughts
HOLLY
“We brought him inside,” the young woman said. “Grandpa doesn’t usually let Fox come inside, but this is a special circumstance.”
I watched “grandpa” as he stood on the front porch, looking like he’d rather have me in his house over his dead body.
I hesitated, but he stepped back and went inside.
The girl’s exuberance had me climbing the steps despite my every instinct telling me to get in the truck and leave.
He didn’t like the dog being inside at all, it seemed, as I walked inside and saw him scowling down at the huge dog that was taking over most of his kitchen.
In fact, he looked ready to crawl right out of his skin the moment I stepped inside. His right hand kept twitching, too, like he was ready to pick me up by the scruff of my neck and toss me bodily outside.
“Uh, can you tell me exactly what happened?” I hesitated as I dropped down to my knees beside the wounded dog.
I didn’t want to put myself in such a vulnerable position, but it wasn’t like I had many choices.
The girl told me everything she knew, then ended with, “I’ll be back tomorrow, Grandpa. I’m sorry I have to run like this. But you know how Mama gets if I’m not home in time to cook lunch for the littles.”
The grandpa said something under his breath and watched her go.
I wanted to scream at her to stay. Every instinct in my body told me that her being gone was a very bad thing.
She didn’t stay.
She left so quickly that it was almost like this was planned. But it was the little look over her shoulder at her grandfather, and then the shallow nod that he gave, that had my stomach seizing.
I heard her car zoom away moments later, leaving me with a wounded dog that looked on the verge of dying and the scowling grandpa who gave me the creeps so bad I wanted to run out of here and never look back.
I focused on the dog, but knew within seconds that this dog wouldn’t be making it.
Honestly, I was surprised that he’d lasted as long as he had.
His wounds were not conducive to life.
After taking one look at the poor dog, I knew that this dog hadn’t been hurt just by being attacked by wolves.
No, the kinds of wounds that this dog was exhibiting was so far beyond just a “one-time thing” that it was comical.
He had scar tissue on top of scar tissue. As I palpated his wounds, I could feel the multitude of them underneath his fur.
“Uh, sir,” I said, feeling my heart start to pound and my mouth go dry. “Are you sure this is the first time he’s been attacked?”
I knew the second that I said it that I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
