Salvaged

by Jay Crownover

  “Give me your keys, Poppy.” Wheeler’s voice was still even and calm as could be even when he had to repeat himself for the third time because I was just standing in front of my door staring at it like it would magically open for me.

  “What?” I looked at him dumbly as I continued to cuddle the dog trapped uncomfortably in my too tight grip.

  He held out his hand, palm up, and lifted one of his mahogany-colored eyebrows at me. “Keys, unless you want to hang out in the hallway the rest of the night. I can do that but I think the puppy needs something to chew on because he’s about to make his way through the cuff of my jacket.” He nodded at my arms and I gasped when I noticed that the dog had indeed chewed his way through the too long material that was hanging over my hands.

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice.” I scrambled to pull my keys out of the wide pocket that ran across the bottom of my hoodie. My fingers were still shaking so badly that I immediately dropped the keys on the ground by my feet. Before I could bend to pick them up, Wheeler moved and not only had them in his hand but had the door open and me moving forward with nothing more than a shift of his body behind mine.

  Once we were inside, he took the dog from me so I could strip his coat off and get control of my violently shaking body. Effortlessly, he found the spot in the tiny kitchen where I had been keeping the Puppy Chow and settled the tiny terror in with some food and water. He was far too comfortable in my space but at the moment I was so grateful for his presence I didn’t care.

  I put my hands to my cheeks and held my face. I could feel heat under the surface and I could hear the rush of blood between my ears.

  “Are you going to be okay? Do you need me to get you something? Should I grab Dixie?” He sounded genuinely concerned about me and that only made me shake even harder.

  “No, I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine and hadn’t been in a very long time. “Dixie is in Mississippi. She took Dolly down because Church moved into the house he rented for them and she wanted the dog to get used to their new home and so she could see what it was like to have a yard.” I was babbling but I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “How do you move me without laying a hand on me?”

  He looked up from where he was watching the puppy dig into his chow. Those blue eyes were like lasers as they cut into me from across the room. He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “What are you talking about?” His voice still held that same even tone but there was something in it, some deeper note, that let me know he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  I wrapped my arms around myself in a protective hug and met his look with a pointed one of my own. “I get stuck, frozen with fear. I end up caught between memories and reality. Most people grab my arm or touch me somewhere to get me moving again. Either that or they go around me like I’m in the way. You made me move without doing anything.”

  His eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frown. “People shouldn’t touch you unless you tell them it’s okay, even if you are in the way.”

  His words had me shivering in a completely different way than I had been before and I was the opposite of cold. “I didn’t use to mind it.” The words cracked and sounded almost as broken as I felt on the inside. “I mean being touched. It wasn’t until … after.”

  He lowered his gaze and I saw his chest rise and fall as he sucked in a deep breath. “The reason doesn’t matter. If you don’t like it, people should respect that. No one has a right to put their hands on you unless you want them there.”

  Right there in that moment I thought I wouldn’t mind it too terribly much if he walked across the room and replaced the frail and thin arms that were currently holding me together with his thick, strong, tattooed ones. It was probably the only touch I would ever crave but I would never be brave enough to ask for it, so I cleared my throat and awkwardly made my way closer to where he was standing. I lifted myself up into one of the barstools that was across the counter from him and put my hands on the cool surface separating us and prayed they would stop shaking.

  “So what did you want to talk to me about? I’m assuming you reconsidered my offer and want to take the furry little terror off my hands.” The puppy looked up from where his entire face was buried in his water dish and gave me a look of doggie disdain. I couldn’t help but grin at him. “I’m kind of attached to him now, Wheeler. I don’t think I’m going to give him up.” It felt like months ago that I’d stood in front of him, knees knocking together, offering him the puppy. In reality it had only been a few days but that was time enough for my heart to attach itself to the rambunctious and destructive puppy. I would have to move, buy a house or something, but I would do it save the dog. I could be a hero and not a victim for a change.

  His lips twitched and I almost fell out of my seat when those twin dimples flashed at me. The boy was a heartbreaker without even trying. Now that I was close enough to him to actually study him, I was pretty sure the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose was going to be my undoing. The dimples were too much, and the freckles were overkill. It wasn’t fair. A man shouldn’t be allowed to look both badass and adorable. Hearts weren’t meant to withstand that kind of onslaught and there was no way a vagina stood a chance against that kind of appeal. Speaking of which, I felt something deep inside of me start to get warm and my thighs clenched in response. I hadn’t been aware of my body and its reactions to the opposite sex in a long time.

  “Have you given him a name yet.” The dimples cut deeper when I scowled at him in response.

  “No, but that’s because I want the right name. He’s going to be stuck with it forever.” I pouted a little as he laughed and shook his burnished head.

  “He’s a dog. Call him Good Boy and he’ll be happy.” He looked down at the dog and then back up at me with a barely noticeable wince. “I shouldn’t have let you leave the other day. I wanted to take him. I should’ve taken him, but my head’s all over the place right now and I can’t even tell which way is up half the time.” He lifted a hand and rubbed it across the back of his neck, which lifted the bottom of the black thermal he was wearing up and revealed the tight cut of his abs over the line of his jeans. I wasn’t surprised that he was tattooed there as well, but I was a little shocked that he seemed to be sporting a clearly defined six-pack. He wasn’t built bulky and thick like a lot of the other guys that were now a regular part of my life thanks to Salem and Rowdy and the tattoo shop. I should have guessed that hauling motors in and out of cars and throwing tires around all day led to having the kind of body that would have a lot of women pinning him to hot guy boards on Pinterest left and right.

  “I’m terrified about the prospect of becoming a dad. I let that fear take over most of my life and I dismissed the idea of taking on more responsibility out of hand. The truth is, my house is lonely right now. I’m lonely.” He looked at me like I should have something to say to that but I couldn’t figure out what my response was supposed to be. There was a time when I was young and naive to all the ways a man could hurt a woman and I knew that girl would know what to say to him, but she was long gone. I was here biting my tongue to keep from saying what I was sure was the wrong thing. “I think the puppy might help me settle into the idea of being a new dad.”

  I made a face. “You want to practice your parenting skills on a puppy?” It wasn’t a horrible idea but it wasn’t the best one I’d ever heard either. If I was in his shoes I would be hitting up all those buddies of his that were well on their way to populating Denver with the next generation of marked men and women. Hell, his best friend from childhood had recently become a father to an adorable five-year-old, the results of an ill-thought-out one-night stand. Zeb Fuller wasn’t any more prepared for fatherhood than Wheeler seemed to be and yet he’d landed on his feet and found himself a perfect little family with only a few mishaps along the way.

  “No … well, kind of … I don’t know. In my head it sounded more reasonable and less crazy than tha
t. What I do know is that I need something in my life to focus on besides the panic and resentment that’s been eating me alive lately. I can give him a good home.”

  I looked down at the dog, who was now happily chewing on the dangling end of one of Wheeler’s shoelaces, and sighed. I didn’t want to give him up but the only reason he was here now was because of the man standing in front of me.

  I’d spent my entire life trying to make men happy, trying to get them to love me by giving them everything I had. Apparently it was a hard habit to break because even though I didn’t want to, I heard myself begrudgingly tell Wheeler, “Fine. You can have him, but if you get tired of him, or if you think he’s too much to handle and want me to take him back, you have to know that I’ll never forgive you for that. I’ll never forgive myself for trusting you. You can’t do that to him.” Or me, I told him silently. The puppy plopped himself on his butt and looked up at both of us. His head swiveled between the two of us as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest and tears burned at the back of my eyes. This sucked but I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew all about needing to find something that tethered you to reality. Without it, the past and the possibility of a shattered present could fling you into a really ugly place that was hard to escape from. At the moment I only had one hand out of that particular pit of despair and I was doing my best to pull the rest of my body out with an uncertain grip.

  He cocked his head to the side and considered me thoughtfully for a second. Those dimples flashed again and this time I couldn’t contain a sigh. He must have heard it because his lips lifted up and some of that ice that chilled his gaze seemed to thaw.

  “I’m not going to get tired of him and you’re not going to miss him because we’re going to share custody of him. I don’t know what to do with a puppy any more than I know what to do with a baby. You’re an expert on the subject seeing as how you work with animals all day long. I figure you can help me train him.” He pointed to where the dog had abandoned his shoelace and was now in the living room sniffing along the edge of the couch like he was looking for a place to go to the bathroom. I gasped and flew out of my chair so I could stop the impending couch ruinage. “Let’s be honest, there is no way I’ll be able to juggle a dog and a newborn. Once Kallie and I figure out some kind of custody arrangement, you can have the dog when I have the baby.”

  I put the dog back on the floor in the kitchen just in case he decided he really did have to go. I looked up at Wheeler like he’d lost his mind, because the way he was talking right now I kind of figured he had.

  The dimples were back as he shifted position so he was leaning against the counter with his legs stretched out in front of him. “It all makes sense. I knew you weren’t going to want to give the puppy up after I fucked up and I know I’m not ready for all that responsibility on my own. It’s the perfect solution.”

  I shook my head at him and threw my hands up in the air. “I think you’re insane.”

  He continued to grin at me and I realized belatedly that when I’d moved into the kitchen it put me close enough to him that I could feel the heat his body generated and could see the way his muscles flexed and moved each time he laughed.

  “Well, I think you’re pretty but that doesn’t have anything to do with anything. Take me up on my offer, Poppy, please.”

  It was the second time he’s brought up the fact that he found me attractive. I used to be, but I’d gone out of my way to be anything except that ever since I was released from the hospital after Oliver died and the police pulled me away from the horrific scene that was our last moments together. How attractive Wheeler found me wasn’t what I should be focused on, and yet I couldn’t stop his words from spinning around in my head or the way they made my heart dip and my breath shudder.

  “Fine. I’ll help you with the dog, but once he’s older and you and the baby are settled into a pattern, you have to keep him full-time. Kids need a pet.” Or at least in my experience, they wanted one and were never allowed to have one because their tyrannical father thought they were dirty and unnecessary. I cringed at the memory.

  “I can do that.” He stuck out his hand, and before I could think twice about it or recoil at the thought of touching my palm to his, I put my much smaller one in his firm grasp. I let out a little whimper when his fingers closed over mine, too stunned that I was touching another person on purpose to move. “It’s a deal, honey.” His words were quiet and soft. He let go far earlier than I wanted him to but I was still in shock, so I just stood there with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide as he told me, “He needs a name before I go.”

  I took a step back and lifted a hand to my throat. I wanted to get it right, which is why I hadn’t given him a name yet. I didn’t like the pressure of trying to come up with something fitting while Wheeler had those chilly baby blues locked on me. “You pick.”

  Slowly his head shook back and forth in the negative. “Nope. You’ve known him longer and spent more time with him. You should get to pick what we call him.”

  I looked down at the dog, who was now on his back, all four feet in the air as he wiggled around the floor fueled by nothing more than excitement and joy. I cleared my throat and looked down at my feet. “Happy. We should call him Happy.” I winced as my voice did that thing where it broke in the middle of my words again.

  “Happy? Like the guy on Sons of Anarchy? You didn’t strike me as a biker babe, Poppy.”

  It was my turn to cock my head in confusion. “What’s a Son of Anarchy?” I didn’t watch much TV. It was all too violent and I’d made the mistake of stumbling onto a Law & Order: SVU marathon on cable a few months ago and ended up curled up in a ball on the couch crying my eyes out because the content hit too close to home. Even something as simple as watching television Oliver had tainted and destroyed.

  His eyebrows shot up again and his whole body vibrated as he started to laugh. “Never mind. Why Happy?”

  I shrugged, worried that he hated the name and was just being nice. To avoid those prying eyes I crouched down so I could rub the puppy’s pink little belly. “Because he was left at our office, left like he was nothing more than forgotten baggage. He was dropped off by someone that knows how difficult it is to find homes for pits in Denver and that didn’t care that his actions might result in the entire litter having to be put down. None of that matters to Happy. He still wags his tail. He still chases the ball. He gives kisses and isn’t afraid of anyone. He still manages to be happy.” I couldn’t even slightly remember what that felt like but I desperately wanted to.

  Wheeler cleared his throat and pushed off the counter. He carefully stepped around me and made his way over to where his thoroughly chewed coat was resting on the back of the couch. At first I thought he hated the name, that he was going to tell me to pick something else. Instead, in that firm tone that never seemed to waver, he told me, “Happy it is. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow so we can set up some kind of schedule. Make yourself dinner and have a good night.” At first I recoiled, thinking he was making a subtle dig about the fact I was noticeably too skinny, but somewhere, some sense of rationality rose up and reminded me sternly that only moments ago he told me he thought I was pretty. I wondered if maybe that girl that hadn’t been broken was somewhere deep down inside of me still.

  He flipped the lock on my door before he left and I knew without looking that he was waiting on the other side until he heard that I slid the chain in place and threw the dead bolt before he left. I leaned back against the door and let my head hit the wood with a heavy thud. The newly named Happy trotted over and plopped his fuzzy butt right on my feet as he looked up at me.

  I hadn’t had a good night in ages. That being said, this one was as close as I’d gotten in longer than I could remember.

  Sighing, I picked up the dog and made my way into the kitchen so I could make myself something to eat.

  Wheeler

  Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I hon
estly didn’t think you would.”

  She used to be my everything; I would have done anything for her and tried my best to hand her the world. Now she was surprised I agreed to have coffee with her before I had to be at the shop. It was crazy how quickly things could change, including Kallie.

  She’d always been the prettiest girl I had ever seen (until Poppy Cruz came wandering into my garage all golden-eyed and heartbroken). Kallie had the kind of easy and effortless all-American good looks that appealed instantly to a kid that always felt like he was on the outside of normal looking in. Her long blond hair was shiny and thick. Her baby-blue eyes were wide and guileless looking. Her skin was the perfect peaches and cream with a touch of freckles that was the only thing about her that matched her to her redheaded older sister. Dixie was short and curvy, Kallie was tall and thin with legs that went on for day and days. She turned heads then and she made men weak in the knees … not that it was male attention she was interested in attracting.

  But there were subtle changes that only someone that had spent years loving her and memorizing every line of her body and every nuance of her expressions would pick up on. For instance, that creamy, carefully made-up face had a hint of ashy green to it. The way she was picking at the muffin in front of her, and clutching the herbal tea I’d ordered for her, made me think she’d entered the phase of her pregnancy where nausea was her constant companion. Her painstakingly maintained mane of blond locks was also looking a little rougher than usual. Kallie wasn’t the type to throw her hair up in a ponytail and head out, but today her silky waves were piled up in a topknot that looked like it hadn’t been brushed or styled. She was also wearing sneakers. In the nearly nine years that we’d known each other, I’d never seen the woman in anything other than designer footwear that cost almost as much as some of the used cars I moved through the shop.