His ears pricked up at the word
He waddled back from the window, tipped his head up at me, and then waddled on two feet off toward the bedroom, his marble-clack sounding like he couldn’t believe it was night again already.
I chuckled. “Just while I’m gone so you don’t scare Cody and Nola,” I said.
, I thought. He curled up at the bottom of the bed and I patted his round head. “With any luck, I’ll be home before them.”
I shut my bedroom door. No lock on the outside, so I left a note on the door that said
, and hoped for the best.
It didn’t take long to get to the hospital.
I didn’t see any of the Hounds there, didn’t see anyone who might be Davy’s parents. I talked to the nurse on duty, explained I was a close friend.
Maybe I looked worried or tired or sincere. Whatever it was, she told me his room number and pointed the way.
I paused outside his door and took a deep breath, calming myself, preparing myself for seeing him before I walked in.
It was a little darker in his room, a small window placed in just the right position to reveal a generous portion of the gray sky, city, and the hills beyond.
Davy did not move. Sleeping, maybe. His face tipped toward the window, so that I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Bring me a beer?” he wheezed, just the breath of sound.
I walked around the bed and stood in front of him. “Of course. But I had to use it to bribe the nurse to let me in.”
He rolled his eyes up to look at me. With some effort he rocked his head back so he could see me better. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I said. “I appreciate your eagerness, but you know I haven’t nailed down the details on that health insurance program for Hounds yet.”
He raised one eyebrow. He was still pale, his left eye swollen, the bruises on his face worse than the last time I’d seen him. “What’s the holdup?”
“I’ve been busy.” I glanced around the room, pulled the wooden chair next to the bed so I could sit. “Knitting, filing my nails. You know, baking bon-bons.”
That got me a ghost of a smile. “Bon-bons are ice cream, stupid. Tomi okay?”
Ouch. How should I tell him how messed up she was? “She’s okay as far as I know. I’m going to check on her later to make sure. You were right. She got into some bad shit. Bad people.” And not being someone who could let an opportunity slip by, “Did you see anyone with her in the park?”
He swallowed. “I tried. I thought I’d find her. Who she was with. In the park. She said. . ” He swallowed again. “She said she screwed up. And she was sorry.”
“Everybody makes mistakes,” I said, surprising myself. “She has a chance to fix things. Her life. You have to let other people help her do that, Davy. Fix her life.”
He just stared at me. “I can’t,” he said. “Can’t just give up.”
“Do you remember her hurting you in the park? Do you remember her doing this to you?” I asked.
He just stared at me. Belligerent.
Sweet hells. What was I going to do with a boy who was too stupid for his own good?
I swore, as soon as I nailed down health insurance, I was going to hire a counselor for the Hounds. Talk some sense into his thick head.
“I think you need to give her room to make choices,” I said. “She’s not alone. She has all of us, all the Hounds, to help her too. Maybe you should give her some room to try other options, other people.”
He quirked one corner of his mouth up, and the fire I knew he had sparkled through the pain and pain medications. “Like you have all the answers.”
I smiled. “Damn right I do. Sometimes a change of strategy is called for, you know? Getting different people involved. And besides, Hounds do not go into dangerous situations without having backup. That includes love.”
He blinked, his eyes staying shut a little too long. “Sure. How’s that going for you?”
“What?”
“Love.”
“None of your business.”
“Thought so.” He was slurring now, and I figured I needed to let him get some sleep.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” I reached over, rubbed the back of his hand.
He surprised me by catching my fingers, even though his eyes were still closed. “Don’t give up,” he said. “It’s worth it.”
“What is?”
“Love.” He let go of my hand. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.
Poor kid. He just wouldn’t give up on her, no matter how much she hurt him. I wanted to shake her and make her realize she was screwing up a chance to be with someone who was a really good guy. And I wanted to tell her just to leave, break it off clean and quick so that Davy could grieve and heal and love again. So he could find someone who would be good to him. But I knew Tomi was in pretty bad shape too. I just didn’t know how permanent her wounds would be.
The wounded loving the wounded. How could that ever end happily?
I heard the footsteps outside the door before the person paused and pushed the door open. It was Sid, a cup of coffee and sandwich in one hand.
“Hey, Allie,” he said. “How’s he doing?”
“Sleeping.” I stood.
He nodded. “Looks like you got hit by a shit truck. Go home.”
“It’s suddenly clear to me why you’re not married, Sid,” I said.
He grunted, a short laugh.
“Call me if anything changes, okay?”
“No problem,” he said. “We’ve got it covered.”
I left the hospital and went home to make sure Stone wasn’t causing a riot. My luck held. Nola hadn’t come back yet. I opened my bedroom door.
Stone stood in front of my dresser, pulling one of my sweaters on over his head. He’d already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “Maybe I should give you to Shamus.”
Stone crooned, only one ear and one eye sticking out of the neck hole of the sweater. I pulled the sweater off him.
“Now your foot,” I said.
I don’t think he understood what I wanted him to do, but I am nothing if not a determined woman. And besides, there was no way I was going to let him stretch all my sweaters out of shape. Once free of my clothing, he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing.
Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.
I let him mess with the sink while I cleaned up most of the disaster in my room. By the time I got done shoving clothes back in my drawers, I was thinking Stone would have to learn a few new phrases. Such as “Keep your grubby hands off my stuff” and “Windowsills are not for chewing on.” So much for my cleaning deposit.
There was a knock at my front door, and I closed the bathroom door on my way by, hoping Stone would stay busy with the sink.
I looked through the peephole.
Zayvion Jones stood there, wearing his ratty blue ski coat, a black beanie pulled down over his dark curls. A warmth in my chest, more than just my pleasure at seeing him, spread out.
