by Jennie Marts
She wrapped her arms around it, ignoring the trails of muddy paw prints it left across her jeans. It didn’t matter. Her clothes were already wet, and she was soaked to the skin—a little more mud wouldn’t hurt anything.
Cuddling the dog to her, she whispered soft encouragement to it as she carried it into the house.
Her mom was sitting on the sofa, and her eyes widened when Piper walked into the apartment, her shoes squishing with each step. “Wow. What happened to you?”
“I got caught in the rain on my way home.”
“Where’d you find the drowned rat?”
“It’s not a rat. It’s a dog.”
“Whatever it is, you’re not bringing it in here.”
“Yes, I am. The poor thing is freezing and starving, and I’m not letting it stay out there in the rain. This dog is our new roommate, so get used to it.”
“I will not get used to anything of the sort.” Her mom put down the book she was reading and pushed up from the sofa. She planted a fist on her hip. “I’m serious, Piper. That thing is hideous. I’m not about to let it move in here with us. So, it’s your choice, it’s me or the mutt.”
Piper pushed her shoulders back, standing her ground as she looked Claire in the eye. “Well, it was fun while it lasted. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Like she ever did. She knew her mom wasn’t going to stay long anyway. Frankly, she’d been surprised she’d lasted the week.
Claire’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding, right? I’m the one who has actually paid the rent.”
Piper shrugged. “Then I guess you’d better get used to the dog.”
Her mom arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’ve changed, kid—toughened up. I like it.” She took a few steps closer and peered down at the little dog. “Fine. It can stay. But you’re giving it a bath.”
Her heart swelled in her chest. Not that she needed her mom’s permission for anything anymore, but she’d still felt like a little kid standing in front of her mom asking her if she could keep the stray dog she’d found on the way home.
But she wasn’t a little kid. She was a grown woman, and she’d just been the one to tell her mom what they were doing.
It felt good. Like maybe their relationship was shifting—morphing into something new, something different. Which was great, because what they’d done before hadn’t always worked.
Not that Piper was letting her guard down. Their relationship hadn’t changed that much. And she still expected Claire to pack up her few things and leave any day, but it felt like they had made a small crack in the wall between the them, the tiniest fissure, but a crack just the same.
“Fine,” she said. It would need a bath anyway. It was covered in mud, and its fur was matted with dirt and grime. “But let me try to feed it first.” The dog wiggled in her arms, almost as if it understood food was on its way. She struggled to get a better grip and ended up cradling it like a baby. She rubbed its tummy and saw her intuition was right about the dog being a female.
Her mom peered at the dog’s exposed belly, and her scowl softened. “She does look half-starved.” She crossed to the kitchen and dug out a couple of the disposable plastic take-out bowls they kept in the drawer. She filled one with water and set it on the floor. Reaching into the pantry, she pulled out the bag Piper had bought a few days before. “I noticed we had a bag of dog food in the pantry and wondered what it was for. Now I know.”
“She’s been under the front porch for several days. I’ve fed her a few times, but it obviously hasn’t been enough.” The dog was still cowered against her chest, but raised its head at the sound of the dry dog food Claire was pouring into the bowl on the floor.
Piper set the dog down, and she cautiously approached the bowls, sniffing at the food. Her small pink tongue took a couple laps of water, then she peered uncertainly up at Piper.
“It’s okay, girl. Eat up,” she encouraged.
The dog turned back to the bowl and greedily gulped the food down.
Her mom gestured to the bathroom. “Go get out of those wet clothes, and I’ll figure out how we’re going to give her a bath.”
It only took Piper a few minutes to shed her wet clothes and blot the rain from her hair. She put on yoga pants, a big comfy sweatshirt, and a thick pair of socks. Grabbing a few extra towels, she returned to the kitchen, surprised to see her mom stirring a sudsy concoction in one of their glass measuring cups.
“What the heck is that?”
“It’s a mixture of deluded dish soap and some apple cider vinegar.”
“And what do you plan to do with it?”
“Use it to wash your new dog. We don't have any dog shampoo, and I heard using people shampoo isn't good for their skin, so I Googled it and this is supposed to be a good substitute until we can get the real stuff.”
“Weird. But okay.”
“I already rinsed out the sink and laid down a washcloth so its feet won’t slip on the porcelain.”
“Smart.” Where had her mom come up with that idea? They’d never had a dog, or any pet for that matter, so she wasn’t sure how Claire knew these good tricks. Maybe she Googled that too.
Piper had a few tricks of her own. She pulled a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard and spread a thin layer on the edge of the sink.
Her mom’s eyes widened. “What in the world are you doing?”
“You’re not the only one who knows how to use the internet. I saw this on Facebook,” she said, picking up the dog and setting it in the sink.
It must have been familiar with peanut butter because it immediately started licking it. All its focus remained on licking the sticky stuff, and she didn’t even flinch when Piper turned on the warm water and sprayed it down her back.
“See, it works. All she cares about is the peanut butter and isn’t even bothered by the water.” She nodded to the measuring cup. “Now pour some of the soap on her.”
Claire held up her hands. “I just made it. I wasn’t planning on getting roped into helping with the actual bath.”
“You said you were working on getting your beautician skills back. Consider this practice.”
Claire shrugged and pushed back her sleeves. “Fine. I guess I have had some clients who have been real dogs.”
Piper chuckled as her mom poured some of the soapy mixture onto the dog. Her fur was so light, she could see her pink skin. “At least she doesn’t have fleas.”
The peanut butter worked like a charm, keeping the dogs focus while she and her mom worked together, lathering up and rinsing out the dog’s matted and filthy coat.
Her hands were slippery with suds as she tried to maneuver the sprayer. It slipped from her hands, hitting the bottom of the sink and flipping around, spraying both the women with water as the hose coiled.
Claire let out a shriek.
Piper froze, ignoring the shock of water that just doused her shirt, her heart thudding against her chest as she waited for her mom to yell or get angry. “I’m so sorry.”
Claire’s eyes were round, her face registering shock at the splash of water that had missed her chest and instead had sprayed across her face and hair. She blew the drips of water from her lips, then broke out into laughter.
Piper’s tense shoulders loosened, and she laughed along with her mom. It felt good to laugh together.
It felt good to be together.
Too bad it wouldn’t last.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mom or love being with her. She did. She just knew she couldn’t count on her to stick around—couldn’t trust her to stay.
Claire didn’t always leave by riding off on a motorcycle. Sometimes her demons took over, and she left emotionally, closing herself off from everyone and everything as she tried to deal with the grief of losing Denny and the life they’d had planned.
Piper swallowed, trying not to think about her dad—or about her mom leaving. Her dad would have loved this dog. He’d talked about letting her get a pupp
y when she was old enough, but it had never happened.
Well, she had one now. Not one she’d necessarily found, but one who had found her. Or maybe they’d found each other.
The dog looked up at her, almost as if it knew what she was thinking. Its eyes were huge and dark brown and full of trust, and Piper knew she wasn’t ever going to leave this dog.
She would still call the Humane Society to see if anyone had lost it, but she wasn’t wearing a collar and had obviously been on her own for a while now. Piper had been watching around the neighborhood and checking bulletin boards around campus to see if anyone posted about a lost dog, but hadn’t seen anything yet.
And somehow she knew this dog was now hers—felt it in her heart they were supposed to be together.
Piper turned off the water and wrapped the dog in a towel. She scrubbed the moisture from its coat before cuddling it against her. As she dried it, little white and tan curls sprang up in the dog’s fur.
“I didn’t realize how white she was,” Piper said, setting her on the floor.
The dog wiggled out of the towel and shook her body, sending sprays of water into the air.
Claire held up her hands to deflect the mist and studied the little dog. “I’ll bet she doesn’t weigh much more than a sack of flour. We need to fatten her up a little. You can see her ribs.”
Piper sat on the floor and pulled the dog gently into her lap. She plucked at the curls on her back. “She’s really kind of cute, now that she’s clean.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Cute is subjective.”
“True,” Piper said with a chuckle. “She is pretty sweet, though.”
“I wouldn’t think the word ‘pretty’ is used very often when describing this one.” Her mom plopped down on the floor next to her and stroked the dog’s head. She was rewarded with a tiny lick to her hand. “She’s kind of like that one friend you have who you just love so you’re always trying to set her up with people but when they ask what she looks like, your reply is always something about her having a great personality.”
Piper winced, but a small grin played at the corners of her lips. “Ouch.”
Claire laughed. “It’s true.”
It was good to hear her mom laugh. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. “Ugh. I know how that feels. I think I’ve been that girl.”
Her mom nudged her arm. “You have not. You’ve always been much prettier than you’ve ever seen yourself.” She reached up and brushed Piper’s bangs from her forehead.
Piper leaned toward her, her body instinctively craving the touch of her mother’s hand. Then she pulled back as she realized she was doing it and gave a small, hard laugh. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to add that to my dating resume.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “My mom thinks I’m pretty.”
“Dating resume?” Claire arched an eyebrow, either not noticing the way Piper had pulled back or choosing to ignore it. “So are you thinking about dating again now?”
She considered telling her mom about the three dates she’d been asked on and sharing the details of her ice cream outing with Clay, but something held her back. They might be having a good time taking care of the dog, but she wasn’t quite ready to forgive everything and spill her guts in a heart-to-heart girl chat.
Things were going well with them, but not that well.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, setting the dog on the rug and pushed up from the floor. “I do know we need to get this stuff cleaned up, and then I have homework to do.”
“I was thinking of making some tacos for dinner. Want some?”
They’d been having a nice time and her mom had been trying. She might not be ready to jump back into heart-to-hearts, but she didn’t have to keep giving her the cold shoulder either. And tacos did sound good. “Sure. That would be nice.”
Her mom smiled.
If she was pretty, it was because she looked like her mom. They had the same facial structure and similar noses.
It had only been a few days, but Claire looked better than she had when she’d first arrived. Some of the luster had come back to her freshly-colored hair, and her cheeks didn’t look quite so gaunt. She was still too skinny, but her eyes didn’t have that haunted bruised look of too much stress and not enough sleep like the first day she’d arrived.
It would seem they were both settling in to this new life together.
The next day, Piper sat in her English class, her palms starting to sweat as the professor finished up the lesson for the day.
She’d spotted Brandon, aka Date #2, across the lecture hall when she’d first arrived at class and had offered him an awkward wave.
Then she’d tried to ignore him for the rest of the hour and focus on the lesson. But it had been crazy hard to concentrate when she knew she had a “date” after class. Well, a get together for coffee anyway. If she didn’t call it a date, maybe it would make her less nervous.
She’d tried to keep her gaze trained on the professor, but had given Brandon a few furtive glances, studying his profile as he listened attentively to the lecture.
Today he was wearing faded jeans and running shoes. His blue button-down oxford was untucked but appeared fairly wrinkle-free—versus some of her other classmates who looked like they may have plucked their current wardrobe selection from a pile of laundry on the floor.
Brandon seemed to be a good student. Or at least he appeared to be listening and taking notes as the professor spoke. But who knew? She couldn’t see his laptop—he could be typing up notes for a Dungeons & Dragons game or emailing his grandmother. Hmm…she wasn’t sure which would be better…or worse.
But he seemed like he was paying attention, anyway. Unlike her, who alternately listened then snuck quick glances at Brandon then spaced out as she worried about her newest new roommate.
How did she keep collecting this odd assortment of roomies? Although she was pretty sure her latest addition was going to be the easiest to get along with.
The little dog had slept at the end of her bed the night before and had devotedly followed her around the apartment all morning as she got ready for class.
She was so sweet, Piper had considered skipping class so she could stay home and play with her all day. But she’d worked too hard to get here and was paying too much for these classes to consider cutting even one.
Her mom had appeared in the kitchen before she’d left and grudgingly agreed to keep an eye on the dog while she was gone that morning, but Piper couldn’t help but worry about how they were getting along.
The professor finished the lecture, and she eyed the exit, wondering if it was too late to make a quick getaway. She could always text him and say she’d suddenly gotten ill.
It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. She did suddenly feel a little queasy.
She stole a quick glance in his direction.
Too late.
He was already heading her way.
Piper crammed her notebook into her backpack and pushed back from her chair. “Hi,” she said, feeling her face warm as he finally reached her.
“Hi.” He grinned and nodded toward the exit doors. They had been so inviting a moment before when they’d been her escape route, now the thought of walking through them only inspired dread.
“You still up for coffee?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“I thought we could just go to the coffee shop in the student center. If that’s okay?”
“Yes. Fine with me.” Wow. She was really killing it with her amazing conversational skills. Hopefully the coffee would kick her brain into a higher gear.
They made small talk as they walked to the coffee shop and ordered their drinks, chatting about their English class, the latest assignment, the book they’d been assigned, and of course, the weather.
Because when you’ve never talked to someone before, it somehow always boils down to a discussion about the weather.
Brandon secured them a table in the far corner, and Piper chewed h
er lip as she walked behind him. She couldn't think of a single other topic to discuss as they sat down with their cups.
Brandon didn’t seem to have that problem. “So, I heard something about you being the one who lived with that girl who was murdered. Is that true?”
She almost spit out her coffee. Way to ease right into that one. Had she missed the segue cue that had led from “when do you think it might snow” to “let’s talk about the murder that happened in your apartment”?
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, yes. That was my roommate.”
“Wow. What a trip. Were you guys pretty close friends?”
“No. Not really. We’d just met each other a few weeks before.”
“Have they caught the guy who did it?”
“Not yet.”
“I heard you were the one who found her.”
“Yeah.”
“Whoa. What was that like?”
What was that like? How was she supposed to answer a question like that? “It was…like awful. How do you think it was?”
He dipped his chin. “Sorry. Of course, it must have been awful. I just meant like how did you find her? Was she still alive? Did you give her CPR?”
“No. It was too late.”
“Bummer.”
Yeah, it had certainly been too late for Brittany. But Piper wasn’t sure if Brandon hadn’t meant it was bummer she had already been dead or a bummer Piper hadn’t had a chance to fail at her life-saving skills.
“Could we talk about something else?” She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. It was too sweet. She’d ordered a pumpkin spice latte but they made them better at The Perk.
Oh great. Now she was thinking about The Perk, which meant she was thinking about Fitz. And wishing it was him sitting across from her instead of Brandon.
At least Fitz didn’t pepper her with rapid fire questions about the murder.
She tried to think back to if he’d even asked her a single question about it. He’d asked her several times if she was okay or how she was feeling about being back in the apartment, but she couldn’t remember him asking about any of the actual details. And certainly not in rapid-fire succession like Brandon was doing.