Taming Georgia (The Flawed Heart Series)

by Ellie Wade

  People did this to him. People put him in a fighting ring and allowed him to be mauled to near death. Then, they left him to suffer and die…and he licks me.

  I run up to the apartment. I grab a sheet and the five hundred dollars that I’ve slowly been stashing away over the past two years for a car. I pick up the phone to call a taxi, but of course, the line is dead. Mom used the phone money for drugs.

  I dart down the hall and knock on the neighbor’s door. My friend Carrie answers.

  “Can you call a taxi for me, please? Our phone’s dead.”

  “Sure,” she says. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I just need a taxi.”

  “Okay.” She smiles and closes the door.

  I head back out to the dog. He’s exactly where I left him.

  He doesn’t protest as I wrap him in the sheet. I think he knows that I’m here to help him.

  Thankfully, the cab driver lets us get in, and he takes us to the nearest emergency vet office.

  The dog has to stay the night at the vet.

  I hate going back to the apartment without him. I spend the evening cleaning the apartment and throwing out everything of my mom’s. There’s nothing of value—sentimental or otherwise. All of her junk has a negative memory attached to it, so I get rid of it all. Finally, before crashing in bed, I go out and buy the dog some food for when he comes back.

  The next day, I’m able to bring him home. I have fifty dollars leftover from paying the vet bill, so I get takeout from a local steak place.

  The dog is still weak but already looks so much better. He no longer has maggots. Some of the wounds needed some stitches, but most just need to heal on their own. The doctor gave me a bag of medicine for the dog and says once he’s finished with his antibiotics, he should be feeling great.

  We sit in my empty apartment, eating steak purchased with the last of my money. I decide to call him Cooper. He just looks like one.

  “It’s just me and you now, boy.”

  Cooper crawls over and lies in my lap. I gently hold him to me, careful not to touch his wounds. I bury my face in his neck…and I cry.

  8

  “There’s something in me that wants something in him. It’s undeniable. But it’s wrong. He’s taken, and he’s an asshole.” —Georgia Wright

  London left a couple of hours ago. I had a wonderful time with her. It’s always great to spend time with my sister. Paige is currently in her room, gabbing on the phone with Ethan. She was so busy with my sister and me this weekend that she hasn’t spoken to him much, which means she’ll be in there for hours.

  I’m bored.

  And restless.

  I just feel off. I can’t pinpoint why, but I’ve felt weird since my run-in with Wyatt on Friday night. I’m too old to let a bully from high school affect me.

  I’m an adult, damn it.

  I don’t need Wyatt Gates’s approval. I don’t need him to like me. If he wants to go on believing that I’m the most self-centered bitch in America, then who am I to stop him?

  His loss.

  I find myself driving without a destination in mind, though I know where I’m heading. Maybe Ethel needs my help?

  It’s not fair for her to work seven days a week. I can lighten the load for her. That will make me feel better.

  I’m greeted by Cooper’s kisses the second I step foot into the building.

  “Hey, boy.” I rub his big head.

  “What are you doing here?” Wyatt asks, his voice deep and gravelly.

  “I thought I would come help Ethel. She told me she’d be working all weekend.”

  “I sent Ethel home,” he practically growls before walking away from me.

  I follow him. “I can help you then.”

  “I don’t need your help. Go home.”

  I ignore his request. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  I continue to walk behind him. “Look, I’m not leaving. I came here to help…someone. Since Ethel’s not here, I’ll help you.”

  He stops abruptly and whips around to face me. “Are you the dumbest woman in the world? Why don’t you understand simple requests? Go. Home.”

  “Are you stupid? I said, no.”

  He pulls his hands through his hair. “You drive me insane.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Why do you want to be here?” he shouts, his face turning red.

  “I don’t know! Okay? I just do,” I yell back, holding my ground.

  He throws his head back, and I can see his nostrils flaring as he takes in a deep inhale. “Fine,” he says, defeated.

  “Good.” My voice is too chipper for its own good. “So, what are you doing?”

  “Hope’s in labor,” he grunts out.

  “Hope’s having her babies, and you were going to make me go home?” I glare at him.

  He just shrugs with a look of disinterest.

  “You’re kind of a jerk, Wyatt,” I grumble.

  “If you want to stay, I’d shut up if I were you. Or I’ll pick your ass up and throw you out.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine, I’ll shut up.”

  “Good.”

  Wyatt directs Cooper to lie down on the dog bed by the office. He grabs his laptop and a stool and sits outside of Hope’s kennel.

  “So, what do we do?” I ask, ignoring Wyatt’s directive to be quiet. Eager for the puppies to arrive, giddiness takes over me.

  “What do you mean?” He sighs and shoots me a quick glance.

  “With Hope? What do we do to help her?”

  “We just wait. Nature kicks in. She’ll do everything on her own.”

  I walk over to Hope and sit down beside her, petting her head. “I’m so excited. I’ve never seen anything born before.”

  Wyatt doesn’t answer.

  I sit in Hope’s kennel and watch her pace. She’s restless, panting, and walking back and forth. Wyatt has put some more blankets in there for her, and she keeps scratching at them with her paws, trying to fluff them up.

  “I feel like she needs help,” I tell him.

  “She doesn’t.”

  “She’s restless.”

  “She’s in labor,” he states the obvious.

  “So, she’s acting normal?”

  He nods.

  Ugh, this is making me antsy.

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  Wyatt ignores me as he types away on his laptop. He’s always working.

  “The girl in the club. Is she your girlfriend?” I ask again.

  He sighs and lifts his eyes from the screen. “What part of shut up don’t you understand?”

  I shrug. “I’m just making conversation. We might be here a while.”

  “No one’s making you stay. In fact, I wish you wouldn’t.”

  I stand and walk closer to the stool he’s sitting on. “Why did you kiss me if you hated me?”

  He shuts the laptop and places it on the workbench beside him. “We were seventeen. That was a lifetime ago. Why does it matter?” His stare is cold, his face rigid, but I see warmth in his eyes. It’s not obvious, but it’s there.

  “I want to know. Just tell me.”

  “I didn’t hate you when I kissed you.”

  My heart is beating uncontrollably in my chest. I can’t believe he’s actually talking to me. “What changed your mind?”

  “The truth.”

  “According to who?”

  What truth is he talking about?

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he hops off of the stool and walks over toward Hope’s kennel.

  “Is it time?” My voice comes out high-pitched.

  He points toward Hope. A puppy inside a little mucous-looking sac is coming out of her.

  I cover my mouth with my hands, watching. It’s disgusting and miraculous, all at once. The puppy falls onto the bedding, and Hope starts cleaning the baby and eating the placenta.

  “Oh my God!” I cover my mouth for a different reason thi
s time. “She’s eating it.” My stomach feels nauseous.

  Wyatt chuckles, and it’s a beautiful sight. “Yeah, they eat it.”

  “Why?” I whine, swallowing hard.

  “It replenishes her nutrients. It’s just what animals do.”

  I shake my head, and my body shivers as I think about chewing on placenta.

  Yuck.

  Hope licks and cleans the new puppy for a long time until, finally, another starts to come out. She repeats the process six times over. It takes more time than I thought it would, usually thirty to sixty minutes between puppies.

  I lean my head against the back of her cage, my eyes heavy.

  “You can go home,” Wyatt says, but this time, it isn’t cruel.

  “No.” I yawn. “I’m committed now.”

  “It’s not as thrilling anymore?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. His gorgeous blues smile even though his mouth doesn’t.

  I stand, stretching my arms up over my head and yawn again, releasing a big, loud groan.

  “No, it is. It’s amazing. I’m just tired. I didn’t realize how long it took.”

  “There should just be one more.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We did an ultrasound on her when she first came to make sure all the puppies were still alive in there. She was pretty malnourished.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” Though it was only a couple of weeks ago, it feels like so much longer. “That was my first day.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Wyatt says, his voice low.

  My stare shoots toward him, finding his intense eyes on me. There’s a space in time—not even a moment, more like a heartbeat between a breath—that I see something in his gaze. It’s there, and then it’s gone. It was so fleeting, and yet my chest hurts at its absence.

  Wyatt’s now standing over Hope, leaving me to focus on the past, the previous seconds where I felt something real.

  “Here comes the last one,” he says, his voice bringing me back to the present.

  I blink and turn my head toward Hope. I watch as the puppy falls from her, and she licks at it, as she did with all of the others.

  “Crap,” Wyatt says. “Hand me that towel.” He extends his arm out toward me.

  I grab the towel off the bench and give it to him.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s not breathing.” He picks up the puppy and places it in his hand over the towel.

  “It’s dead?” My voice is panicked.

  “It happens,” Wyatt says, rubbing the puppy in between his hands in the towel.

  Tears fill my eyes, and a lump forms in my throat. “Save it! Oh my gosh. What do we do?” I cover my mouth with my hands, watching Wyatt.

  His big hands hold the small baby between them. Then, he swings it in a quick downward motion before whipping it back up again.

  I shriek, “Stop! What are you doing?”

  He ignores me and repeats the movement.

  “Wyatt!”

  “I’m trying to get it to breathe, Peaches. Chill out.” He starts to rub the little pup between his palms again.

  A shrill cry comes from its tiny mouth, and it starts to squirm.

  “Oh my gosh! It’s alive!” My body bounces with energy and relief. “You did it!”

  He uses the towel to clean the remaining wetness from birth off the puppy that’s now squirming in the palm of his hand.

  Tears cascade down my cheeks. Relief, exhaustion, and happiness are just a few of the many emotions that pour out with them.

  “Grab another towel,” he tells me.

  I do as he said.

  “Put it over your hand.”

  I drape the towel across my hand, and Wyatt places the small puppy in my palm.

  “Cover it up with the fabric and gently rub it to warm him up.”

  “It’s a boy?” I ask Wyatt, blinking back tears.

  He peers at me and almost looks sad. I feel a powerful pull toward him. My body craves his. My chest aches as I fight this innate draw. There’s something in me that wants something in him. It’s undeniable. But it’s wrong. He’s taken, and he’s an asshole.

  All the puppies and emotions of the night have me confused. Exhaustion is playing tricks on my mind.

  Wyatt closes his eyes before opening them again. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. I haven’t checked yet.”

  “Can you check?”

  He takes a step toward me and reaches for my hands. I freeze.

  He removes the towel from the baby and lifts its legs before covering it back up. “It’s a girl.”

  “Aw.” I hold the pile of fabric to my chest. “A girl.” I smile.

  Wyatt clears his throat. “All right, well, now, you want to put her up next to her mama, so she can nurse.”

  I nod. “Okay.” Kneeling, I uncover the baby girl and place her next to her siblings, who are already contentedly nursing.

  I stand, and Wyatt and I watch Hope with her new babies.

  “She’s not doing anything.”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt says with a sigh.

  He kneels down and places the little girl closer to Hope. The other puppies squirm, pushing her to the side.

  After a minute, he picks her up and stands.

  “We’re going to have to bottle feed her, unfortunately. She’s a runt. She’s not fighting to eat, and the other puppies will just plow over her.” He holds the baby to his chest and walks away.

  I follow him.

  “I’ll feed her,” I tell him.

  He hands me the puppy and gets her bottle ready.

  I sit in the recliner in the break room with the puppy in the crook of my arm. A bottle in the other hand, I watch as she sucks the milk down—at least, most of it. Some of it drips down her furry chin.

  “Keep it in your mouth, sister.” I giggle.

  When she’s finished, she falls asleep, and I just hold her. I feel my eyelids getting heavy.

  Wyatt comes in. “She finish it all?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, holding up the empty bottle.

  “Good. We have to give her a bottle every two hours.”

  “Every two hours?” I’m exhausted, just thinking about it.

  “Yep. Do you want me to take her, so you can head home?”

  “No, I’m fine. I could use a blankie though.”

  “A blankie?” A smirk finds his lips.

  “Yes, please. I’m just going to take a little nap here.” I wiggle back into the chair, pushing the button on the side that extends the footrest.

  Wyatt turns to leave.

  “Hey, Wyatt. Can you make sure the blankie is free of pee or vomit or anything else equally gross?”

  He lets out a chuckle. “I’m not going to let you cover up with a blanket that smells like shit. I’m not a total asshole, Peaches.”

  I yawn. “I don’t know anymore, Wyatt.”

  He squints and opens his mouth to say something before shutting it and walking out. I cup my hand around the slumbering furball on my chest and close my eyes.

  In the back of my mind, I’m mildly aware of a warm blanket covering me up, but I’m already gone, halfway between sleep and reality.

  In my dreams, I see him as he was when I was young and hopeful—before the kiss and the harsh words.

  I just spent an entire evening with Hope as she brought adorable bundles of life into the world. And despite my better judgment, hope blooms within me, filling me with ideas of more.

  More of what? I’m not sure.

  9

  “Cooper saved me in more ways than one.”

  —Wyatt Gates

  “Come on, E!” I shake my head with a laugh.

  Ethel shrugs, a smirk plastered across her face. She feigns a sudden understanding as she peers down at her shirt. “Don’t you love it?”

  “It’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever seen.” I roll my eyes.

  Ethel sports a sweatshirt of the galaxy. Atop the colorful Milky Way is a giant cat head with two paws, one h
olding a taco and the other a piece of pepperoni pizza. The cat’s tongue is out as it licks the pizza.

  She ignores my comment. “I know; it’s great. You know this exquisite thing just popped up in my Facebook feed with the link and everything. It’s like my phone knew I needed a new cat shirt.”

  “Because you don’t have enough,” I scoff.

  “I was just talking about my cat shirts with Georgia, and the next day, I had these links on my Facebook. Sometimes, I think my phone is listening in on me. It’s creepy, but at the same time, it saved me the effort of searching, you know?”

  “I know that you look ridiculous.”

  “Thank you. I love it, too.”

  I just shake my head and walk over to the desk to read my messages.

  “All of the care packages are ready?” I ask without lifting my eyes from the desk.

  “They sure are. Georgia and I finished them last night. You should take her with you. She’d love that.”

  “No.”

  “Wyatt.” She sounds disappointed, but I don’t care.

  “I said, no.”

  “Well, I said, yes.” Ethel’s voice is stern, a complete one-eighty from the way she usually sounds.

  I snap my head up to find her glaring at me.

  “Jeez, E. Okay. Didn’t know it was that important to you. Fine.” I throw my hands up.

  “I just don’t understand why you have such disdain for her. She works her butt off here, going above and beyond what any other volunteer has ever done for us. She lives to help others, and you’re an idiot if you don’t see that. She’s not here to bother you. She’s here for herself. It would fill her soul to go with you today. She deserves that.”

  “It’s not my job to fill her fucking soul,” I huff.

  “Language.” She frowns at me. “And it is your job to be a decent human being. I don’t care what she has or hasn’t done in the past. I only know the girl here now, and she’s pretty fantastic, if you ask me.”

  “Well, I’m not asking you,” I grumble.

  “You need to forgive her. Whatever she did…you need to forgive her.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You know the thing about forgiveness?” she asks.

  I play along. “No, E. What’s the thing?”

  “Only the strong can forgive, and it won’t change the past. But it can drastically change the future.”