I stood at my desk and strode across the room, firmly shut my office door, and hit the button next to the windows that faced into the hallway. Black light-blocking screens lowered and covered the glass, hiding my office from view. With the closed door and shuttered screens, no one would disturb me. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted anyone to hear. I’d done well to hide where I’d come from since I left home at eighteen. Not even Roman knew my full story.
I collapsed on the couch and scrubbed a hand over my face. The stubble along my jaw pricked against my palm. “I sent you a thousand dollars two weeks ago.”
“I need to pay the bills. They’re going to shut off the water.”
“That’s what you said last time. And I sent you a grand. What happened to it?”
She didn’t say anything. The silence that passed over the connection was louder than anything she could’ve said. She didn’t need to confirm it; I already knew what had happened. The bastard had found it and spent it. And she hadn’t done anything to stop him. For all I knew, she could’ve handed the money over to him, knowing if she called me, I’d give her more.
“Noreen,” my father hollered. “I said I want another fucking beer. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Please send more,” she whispered into the phone. I heard the pop of the refrigerator door and the clink of the bottle hitting others.
“Mom, I can help you. I’ll come get you. Come to Texas. You don’t have to live this way. Get away from that bastard and I’ll help you.” I’d said many variations of these same words for years. When I’d left for boot camp, it was with a whispered promise in her ear that I would come back for her and get her out of the hell we lived in.
“Kiernan,” she sighed. “Do not disrespect your father that way. I love him and if you don’t stop talking about him like that and trying to fill my head with lies about him, then I won’t call anymore.”
I held back my snort. Lies. The bruises I knew she had on her body weren’t fucking lies. The shit he demanded from her wasn’t fucking lies. And she’d never stop calling, because she knew I’d never stop opening my goddamn wallet in the hope that she would one day take me up on my offer and leave the bastard. We hadn’t seen each other since I’d left, and she probably didn’t care. Wasn’t sure why I did.
“I just need a little money to float us until the gas station pays me next week. I’ll pay you back.”
Now that was a lie. She’d never pay me back and she knew it.
“You don’t need to pay me back.” I sighed. “I’ll send more. But I can’t do this forever, Mom. Tell that lazy bastard to get off his lazy ass and get a damn job. I hate thinking about you working doubles at a gas station.”
“I’m going to find something better,” she promised, blowing right past asking my father to go get a job. He was happy making her work and taking all the money she brought home for whatever he wanted. And there wasn’t much better for her. She’d worked countless diner jobs, and my dad had caused her to lose almost every single one of them by showing up and being belligerent.
“Noreen,” my dad shouted.
“I need to go,” she whispered even more softly than the rest of our quiet conversation. She hung up and I took the phone away from my ear and brought up my banking app to do as I always did. I was just as bad as she was.
My father was the noose around her neck.
And she was the heavy weight hanging around mine.
I transferred the money into her account, and I knew I wouldn’t hear from her again until it was time to ask for more or on my birthday. Whichever happened first.
10 Caroline
“When you give a command, make sure to keep direct eye contact, use a firm voice, and don’t waver. They know a treat is coming and want it, but their excitement at this stage may be too much for them to listen the first time around, so keep trying. The more you work with them, the better they’ll be at listening to commands. And if that is accomplished, you won’t have to worry about bringing them to a dog park or restaurant patio or being around others.”
Kiernan snorted. My lips twitched, but I stayed focused on the others in the class. They stood in a long line—owner and pet next to each other. I loved working with animals. Whether it was making them feel better when they were hurt, training a puppy to sit, or helping an animal from an abusive background find love and trust with their new family. For most of my childhood, it was an emphatic no from my parents when I asked to get a dog or cat. It was a hell no when I asked for a pig.
But eventually they had broken down and we got a family dog. He irritated my mother, and my father worked too often to be bothered by the messes the puppy made. My sister was interested in him until he ate one of her shoes, and that was that. I checked out every book from the library about dog training that I could find and watched every television show on the subject. For a long time it was just Snickers and me. I’d been able to train him to use all the basic commands and even respond to twirls.
Snickers slept in my bed every night. I walked him. I fed him. I kept him out from under my family’s feet. But
