“Silo, Bones,” I said softly, dropping down onto my knees in the middle of the living room floor. Right next to one of Wyett’s high-heeled shoes. “Come here, Silosama. Come here, Bonessama.”
“What does sama mean?” Wyett asked curiously.
I was about to answer her when Silo got close enough to sniff me.
Then she pounced.
She hit me like a battering ram, taking me down onto my ass, then farther down onto my back as she licked and barked and yipped at me.
She’d gotten older over the years. Her hair wasn’t nearly as sleek and black, and instead now looked like it was silvering gray.
Bones, who’d been cautious up to this point, got closer and closer until he was lying on the ground next to me, waiting for his turn.
Just like he’d always done.
He’d always been the gentleman.
“Sit, Silosama,” I urged as I caught her in a bear hug and tugged her to my side.
That’s when Bones was done waiting.
With a giant leap, he was burying his nose into my neck and whimpering with excitement.
I laughed at them, so happy I could burst.
I’d missed them the most when I’d been inside.
I’d gotten the two of them as puppies.
They’d been three weeks old, and their mother had died from a strange heart condition that’d taken everybody by surprise.
I’d already chosen Bones. But, when the mom had perished, I’d gone to get Bones and had seen the runt—Silo—hadn’t been faring as well as the other pups.
She’d been lethargic and so sad looking that I’d taken them both home with me instead of just the one.
And I’d bottle fed them every eight hours for the next few weeks until they’d gotten the eating food thing down on their own.
Needless to say, it’d been a hard transition, I was sure, for all of us.
When the dogs finally calmed down enough for me to see anything other than them, I realized that the room around me had been picked up.
And that there was a strange zipping sound coming from the back room.
I stood up, patted the dogs, and urged them to follow me as I went in search of the sound.
When I got to the open bedroom door, it was to find Wyett trying to zip a very overstuffed suitcase.
She was making very little progress, seeing as she had to sit on the suitcase to zip it.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.
She looked cute all frustrated, and my raging hard-on that hadn’t gone down once today after seeing her pulsed with excitement.
She looked up, then promptly fell off her suitcase.
It burst back open with what looked like a spring inside of it, and all her clothes started to spill out.
“Dammit,” she grumbled, trying to shove everything back into her suitcase. “And to answer your question, I’m packing my stuff. Why?”
“Why?” I echoed.
“Why what?” she wondered as she started to stuff things back inside before closing the lid once again.
There was no way she was getting that zipped.
“Why are you packing?” I repeated.
She looked at me curiously over her shoulder, and the stubborn frown on her face made me want to smile.
I didn’t.
But barely.
“Because you’re home, and I don’t want to intrude,” she explained. “I’ll go stay with Six tonight. Her and her man have a rather large house out in the middle of nowhere. I won’t be a burden.”
I frowned at her use of words. “You won’t be a burden here either. Why would you think you’re intruding? I hate to break this to you, but we’re married. You’re allowed to be here just as much as I am.” I paused. “In fact, you’ve spent more time in this house than I have. I literally just moved into the place about two months before all that shit went down.”
All that shit being self-destructing my life.
She opened her mouth, and then closed it, letting her battle with the suitcase go as she turned and faced me fully.
“At least give me a couple of months before you move out,” I urged. “I have so much to do it’s not even funny. Reintegrating back into society is going to be rough for me. Not only do I have to learn to deal with everyday people again, but I have to go get all of my shit renewed. License. Insurance. Cars. I have doctor’s appointments galore to go to. Not to mention there’s all the work that I now have to do with Lynn. But I can let you know in about ten minutes if you allow me to get to a computer and promise not to leave.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“Give me a few months, please?” I urged. “Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll draw up the divorce papers myself.”
She frowned. “Are you asking me to stay married to you, and possibly continue to stay married to you, past the two months?”
It’d never been discussed before we’d gotten married just how long we would stay married.
But what she didn’t know was that I’d wanted it, and I wanted it to stay that way, from the very beginning.
I just needed to do some convincing. I needed her to fall in love with me.
I needed her to love me as much as I loved her.
Yet, she had no clue.
From the moment that she allowed me to touch her—even if it was her eyelash—I’d wanted her. And over the course of the years that I was in jail, I’d fallen in love with her.
She was the one bright spot in my dark days. She was the one thing that I’d come to look forward to. What had pushed me to make it from one month to the next.
See, most people wouldn’t know it by the looks of me, but I seriously did not like being touched.
And you know what was inevitable in an over-crowded prison?
Being fucking touched.
All the goddamn time.
I’m talking, brushing elbows with my neighbor all the goddamn time.
Hell, even before this had all happened, I’d always been very careful about how close I got
