With a sigh, I drag myself off the floor, but I can’t shake the idea that if I don’t do something, Duke won’t make it.
Sheryl and Merle are reviewing some paperwork when I pop into the break room. ESPN is on in the background. Merle is obsessed with sports. That’s the only drawback to helping around here. I try to avoid anything that might mention North Texas U football and Jake.
Leaning on the doorframe, I wave behind me to the kennels. “I took everyone’s photo except Duke’s. I was afraid the sound of the shutter would freak him out.”
Merle shakes his head. “It’s his second day of not eating, Charlie. Not sure how long we can hold out.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, hesitant to ask the question. After a minute, I work up the courage. “How much would the vet charge to do the feeding tube?” My bank account is getting low, but I want to help.
Sheryl clicks her tongue. “Sweetheart, I know you don’t have any money. You can’t save every dog that comes through here. Plus, don’t you have your hands full with Winkie?”
It’s scary how well Sheryl knows me after I’ve volunteered here for only a year. Winkie is the one-eyed kitten I adopted last fall.
“Winkie’s not a problem.” He finally stopped tearing up my clothes. And curtains. And bedding. Mostly.
Merle leans back in his chair. “Just because we save Duke in the short term doesn’t mean he’ll make it. He’ll have to want to get better.” His face darkens. “Wish I could beat the tar out of whoever did this to him.”
My throat gets tight. I can’t let this happen. “What if I fostered him? What if I took him home and loved up on him? You know being around so many other dogs is stressful.”
Merle’s haggard eyes meet mine. “We’re supposed to stabilize the animals before we foster them in homes, Charlotte.”
“What does that matter if you’re just going to give him to Animal Control in a few days? I know what I’m signing up for.” Duke might not make it. I’m not good with confrontations, but the fear of this dog being euthanized forces me to dredge up the courage to fight Merle on this.
He rubs the bridge of his nose. “For every instance of neglect, you need ten times more affection and care to offset the damage that’s been done. You’ve got school and your photography. You sure you’re up for the task?”
I nod quickly. “My schedule this year is great. I have a break in the middle of the day and plenty of time to take Duke for walks.” I can’t believe I’m already a senior.
When Merle doesn’t say anything, I fold my hands like I’m praying. It’s a tactic straight out of my sister’s playbook, normally not something I’d attempt, but I’m desperate. “Please. I promise I won’t ask to do this again. I just can’t let him die without trying.”
“You’re still gonna do that calendar, though, right?”
“Absolutely.” With the tough economy last year, Second Chances lost several major donors, and they’ve been on the brink of closing their doors ever since. I suggested doing a calendar to raise funds, and since photography is the one area of my life where I excel, I want to help.
Now I just have to persuade a few athletes to take cute pics with some homeless animals.
Sweat gathers under my arms at the thought of talking to so many people. This is why Dakota is our mother’s favorite. Kota is great at public speaking and knows how to ham it up for the cameras. Not me.
Despite being a photographer, I have a tendency to blink whenever I’m photographed. My shrink explained it’s psychosomatic and caused by stress. My mother rolled her eyes and declared that was a nice way of saying it’s all in my head.
Yes, my mom took me to a psychiatrist to see if she could cure me of this “ailment” and turn me into another media sensation like my sister.
Newsflash: It didn’t work. As the dumb memes people made of me when I was little indicate.
You can do this, Charlotte. You’re not a wallflower anymore.
Fake it till you make it, right?
I clear my throat. “I’ll start coordinating the photoshoots this week.”
Since I never go on dates, I’ll have the time.
Merle winks at me with a nod. “Then you got yourself a deal.” He points to the TV mounted on the wall, which is highlighting a Bronco game from last year. “Gonna have a hell of a season.”
When he starts talking football, I usually duck out. Lone Star State’s team is one of the best in the country, so it’s a popular subject around here. I even went to a game with my friend Maggie, who just got engaged to one of the former players, but the topic bums me out, so I try to avoid football altogether.
Before I can return the conversation to taking Duke home with me, Merle smacks the table with a grin. “Coach Santos has built a helluva team this year. That transfer portal is a game-changer. We’re getting two new wide receivers, and…”
His voice fades as my pulse races.
Jake’s a wide receiver.
It was his lifelong dream to play football here.
But what are the odds Jake would transfer his senior year of college? I can’t imagine a scenario that would have Kota excited to move down to the Hill Country.
I shake my head. I’m just being paranoid.
A tidal wave of guilt settles in my belly at the memory of leaving the way I did, but I didn’t think I had a choice. I was dying inside. I had to do something.
Jake never called, Charlotte. You don’t owe him anything.
In a moment of weakness, I gave him my new number. My note said if he ever had an emergency, I wanted one person to know how to reach me.
With the way I left, I shouldn’t be hurt that he never called or texted, but I am.
And before you say I’m a nutcase—because who changes their phone number but then hands out the new one?—I agree with you. As my psychosomatic photo blinking likely proves.
But there’s no way I could leave my sister with a way to contact me. Even if I blocked her, she’s relentless when she wants something. She’d have no qualms about using her horde of fans to harass me until I did her bidding. And if I caved to her demands one more time, I’d never be able to live with myself.
I can’t stop thinking about it, though. Jake wouldn’t transfer his senior year, would he?
I’m so tempted to Google his name and low-key stalk him until I can confirm he’s staying put at NTU, but I’m on a two-year streak without that man, and I don’t intend to backslide now.
If Asher is my Achilles’ heel, Jake is my favorite drug. And as everyone knows, you don’t give an addict a shot of alcohol.
Mentally, I high-five myself for staying strong. I’m done being that sad loser who’s always moping around in her famous sister’s shadow.
I love Dakota. I’d give her a kidney if she needed it. The problem is Dakota only loves herself.
I wonder if Jake has figured that out yet.
So no more pining over my sister’s boyfriend. I deserve better. Someday I’ll find a man who wants me and will put me first, and until then, I have an Australian shepherd who needs my help.
Resolved, I smile at Merle. “So how do I spring Duke from this joint?”
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