Ryder
The blare of a car alarm jolted me awake, my hands instantly clutching my head to try and stop the pounding. Normally, I didn’t suffer from hangovers; I must’ve drank an awful lot of shitty beer last night.
I hadn’t been so out of it that I didn’t remember what happened, however. I knew damn well I’d threatened Jagger to drive me to Braylen’s house, the need to see her greater than I’d ever felt before in my life. With minimal reluctance, he’d finally agreed, not so much to help me out but because I was sure he wanted to spend time with Kena. Either way, mission accomplished.
I remembered pulling Braylen on top of me as I fell onto the couch, then apologizing and spewing something about not being able to get her out of my head. Then kissing her sweet lips. Then trying to get off the couch but failing, my body finally giving in to exhaustion, the alcohol flowing through my veins thickening and rendering me useless.
As I struggled to sit up, I suddenly remembered the worst thing of all. My hands came up to cradle my face, a groan of disbelief barreling from my mouth as I tried like hell to wish it away. I’d said out loud that I saw my mother killed in front of me.
Did she hear me? Had she left the room by the time the words escaped? If she did hear me, will she ask me about it? So many questions, none of which I would find the answer to unless I brought it up.
Reaching inside my jeans, I pulled my phone out to check the time—5:00 a.m. A sudden feeling of nerves took hold, so I scrambled off the couch, almost fell the fuck over, righted myself and went in search of Jagger. I needed the keys to his truck. I had to get out of there before Braylen woke up, before she decided to shrink me into telling her all about my sordid past.
After briefly returning home, I showered, changed and headed toward the club, remnants of my drunken haze still lingering. Being alone with my thoughts was the last thing I wanted to do. I needed a distraction, and who better to gift me with such a thing than my brothers. While it was still relatively early—six thirty, to be exact—I was sure someone would be there. And if not, then I’d set up at the bar and start forgetting right away.
Forgetting I’d made a fool of myself by showing up at Braylen’s house, drunk and insistent she see me.
Forgetting I’d basically passed out on her couch after having a taste of her sweetness.
Forgetting I’d mentioned my mother.
Forgetting Jagger was gonna be pissed that I’d taken his truck without his knowledge.
Forgetting I even cared.
I was close to ten minutes away from my destination when a vehicle unexpectedly cut in front of me, crossing lanes without any sort of warning. Besides being pissed, something screamed at me to pay attention, more so than I normally would have. An Oldsmobile Cutlass with faded and peeling blue paint, along with a bumper that was held on by duct tape, careened into the opposing lane before righting the wheel, slowing down and then speeding up. I kept my distance when normally I would have sped up and passed him off. At first glance it appeared as if a drunk driver was behind the wheel, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case.
The Cutlass pulled closer to the side of the road but never stopped completely. I let up on the gas, slowing the truck even more. The next thing I knew something was tossed from the passenger side window, and as soon as the object cleared the car’s interior, the driver gunned it and took off like a shot. I was honestly shocked the ol’ girl had so much gumption left in her.
Several moments later, I pulled over to where the Cutlass had slowed, my tires kicking up gravel until I eventually came to a stop. I had no idea what had been discarded, but I knew I couldn’t leave without checking what it was. It could’ve been a bag of trash, the bastard too lazy to dispose of it properly, although my gut was telling me otherwise.
Throwing the truck in Park, I exited and walked around the back until I came to the side of the road closest to the small embankment. And that was when I saw a white garbage bag with black handles. Upon closer inspection, I saw the bag was moving ever so slightly. When I was a few feet away, I finally heard a noise, a whimpering sound trapped inside the confinement.
What the fuck? I proceeded with caution. For all I knew the guy could’ve tossed out a raccoon he’d caught, or a skunk, or any other kind of rodent. The closer I got the more I knew the animal inside wasn’t any of those things. Crouching down, I cautiously untied the knotted black plastic handles, pulling apart the ends of the garbage bag until I could peer inside.
Looking back up at me were a tiny pair of pale blue eyes, a face so bewildered it tugged at my heart. It was a puppy. I’d always been an animal lover, even had a dog I loved with all my heart when I was young, so when I saw what that bastard threw out of his window, fury pounded through me. My skin was hot, my heart thumping wildly inside my chest.
I had a choice. I could hop back in my truck and take off after him, or I could tend to the defenseless puppy. Without much deliberation at all, I chose the puppy.
Tearing the rest of the bag away, I inspected the tiny creature. It didn’t take long to discover that the puppy only had three legs—two front ones and the back right. From what I could tell, it looked like the missing limb was a birth defect and not the result of some sort of accident or mistreatment. Checking underneath, I saw the puppy was male, his tiny tail tucked under when I scooped him up.
He looked to only be around six weeks old, yet there was an old soul to this dog as I stared into his eyes. It was the oddest moment, but I swore to Christ I bonded with the little bastard, right there on the side of the road. While I wasn’t sure exactly what breed of dog he was, his coloring was quite unique: gray and white fur covered his body, with a black patch circling his left eye.
Walking back to the truck, the little guy tucked close to me, I grabbed a blanket Jagger had in the back and threw it over the passenger seat before climbing back behind the wheel. Turning over the ignition, I gently placed the puppy on the blanket.
He started to shiver, so I put my hand over him. Surprisingly he stopped, licking his little lips before closing his eyes, as if he knew I wouldn’t harm him.
I drove the rest of the way to the club with a discarded, three-legged animal next to me and an odd feeling of affection in my heart.