Chapter 7

When you want to unsend the text you sent because you’re not the same person you were six minutes ago.

-Text from Kayla to Parker

Parker

I was walking down the stairs with Carmen, my German Shepherd, at my side when Kayla met me halfway.

Carmen tensed at my side, and I had to move my hand down to her collar.

Nobody ever took this set of stairs, so I hadn’t fitted Carmen’s muzzle in place yet.

Meaning she was only mere inches away from Kayla’s body.

I tensed and placed my hand on Carmen’s head, silently urging her to stay calm.

“Oh, hey, Parker! Who’s this?” Kayla asked, sounding tired.

She looked tired, too.

“This is Carmen,” I said, then held up my hand. “And before you ask, no, you can’t touch her.”

Kayla frowned. “Why?”

I pulled out Carmen’s muzzle and fitted it on over her snout. “Because Carmen has some PTSD, and she doesn’t do well around women.”

“Oh,” Kayla said, stepping down a step. “I’m sorry.”

I moved slightly to the side and down a step, blocking Carmen’s upper body and head with mine before gesturing. “You can go past.”

Kayla nodded and did as I said, but she tensed when Carmen started to snarl.

“It’s okay,” I said, tightening my hold. “She’s just pissy. She won’t do anything to you.”

Kayla went up a few more steps and didn’t stop until she was on the landing above us.

“Is she…okay?” Kayla asked hesitantly.

I nodded. “She’s adjusting.”

That was a lie. Carmen had been adjusting for five years now. Although there were some instances where she functioned well and had shown some improvement, she was also still as ornery and cantankerous as the day she’d been brought into my home.

Before the incident that made her the way that she was, she was a great dog. She was highly sociable. She loved being petted, and she honestly slept damn near anywhere.

Now…not so much.

She hated loud noises and women. She couldn’t stand to be petted—even by me. She didn’t want to be anywhere near anyone but me, and even that was only when she felt up to it. And, lastly, she was getting meaner.

Not even men could approach her anymore without her getting at least a little bit wary.

A woman?

Just a moment before with Kayla had been the first time Carmen hadn’t actually lunged at a female since the day she came home.

Now, to take her to the vet, I had to sedate her.

God forbid someone need to be let into my apartment—her safe place.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

With that, she turned and climbed up the steps, and I was left staring at her pert ass as it disappeared around a corner.

Carmen gave an angry huff, and I started to descend the steps once again.

The moment we made it outside, she started to do her business. Then she waited for me to take her on her walk.

Something that was part of our routine every single day.

We walked a mile one way and a mile back, and we didn’t stop to play or chat.

We would get there, get the job done and get home.

Carmen couldn’t last very long without her four protective walls around her, and I couldn’t say that I blamed her after what she’d experienced. Torture being one of those experiences.

About a half an hour after we’d left, we were back, and I smiled at what I saw on my doorstep.

“Looks like she’s trying to win you over, Carms,” I told my puppy.

Carmen went to the bone that was sitting on the floor in front of my apartment door and gently nudged it with her nose.

I bent down and removed the muzzle, and Carmen wasted no time picking the bone up, then glaring at me as if I was taking too long to open the apartment door.

I rolled my eyes and did as she bid, closing and locking it behind us.

Carmen did her usual walk through of the apartment, and I went and found a beer and popped the top right about the same time that my phone rang in the other room.

I went to it and picked it up, finding another rare smile. “Hey, Joshie. How’s it going?”

Gunner grunted. “I got kneed in the balls today, and then got a call from Aleah.”

I felt my stomach sour. “What did she want?”

Aleah was Jett’s mother. Jett’s mother who wanted nothing to do with Jett or Gunner about three weeks after she’d had Jett.

And, it wasn’t lost on me that she was back the moment that Gunner moved up to the majors.

“What did she want?”

Gunner laughed, and the way it sounded made my heart hurt.

“She wanted to know how I was doing,” he said. “To make sure that I wasn’t too upset over Jett’s death.”

My fist clenched. “And what did you say?”

“I told her that my life was useless without him and that if she ever called me again, I’d get a restraining order against her. And she had the indecency to laugh at me. Told me I was being soft.”

I hissed in a breath. “Gunner,” I said softly, tempering my anger. “Aleah is a bitch. Always has been, always will be. She’s doing this because you moved up and now have a good future ahead of you. But, I would suggest changing your number. She’s not going to stop calling.”

Gunner hummed his agreement. “I’m sorry. I was just…lost.”

I was, too.

I had been my whole freakin’ life.

I hated that my sister’s boy was lost with me.

If there was one thing that I could change in my life, it would be to have not taken Jett to school that day.

Then again, if that was my thinking, then maybe I should’ve never gone into the military. Maybe I shouldn’t have ever left. Maybe, if my sister had been there, alive, she would have been able to raise Gunner better than my dad and I did.

Then Jett wouldn’t have even lived.

And that, to be honest, was a heartbreaking thought to me.

Over the years that Jett was with us, he’d changed me.

He’d made me see things that I normally wouldn’t have seen.

Like admiring a butterfly or having a discussion about a bald eagle and why it represented the United States.

So, as much as I loved and missed my sister, I’d never give up the chance at having spent time with Jett.

He may no longer be with us, but his memory was still there to influence us in everything that we did.

“Grandpa called,” Gunner continued. “He wants to know if I’m coming home for Christmas.”

I grinned. “And are you?”

“Only if you are,” he said just as fast.

I snorted. “I’m not welcome there, Gunner. If I was, then he would’ve invited me.”

“Well I invited you,” he countered.

I laughed.

The kid had lived through a lot, but he was still so innocent and naïve that it was comical sometimes.

I chuckled. “As much as I’m sure Dad would love having me there,” I said sarcastically, “I’m going to stay here. You’re more than welcome to come eat Waffle House with me, though.”

Gunner sighed. “I wasn’t going anyway. I’m probably never going back.”

That made my belly clench.

“Josh…”

“Gotta go.”

Then he hung up before I could say another word.

I sighed and pulled the phone away from my ear, then tossed it unceremoniously onto the counter.

“You can come to my Christmas,” came Kayla’s muffled reply.

I looked up at the kitchen wall that was separating us.

“Sorry, doll.” I huffed out a laugh. “But I have a tradition. Waffle House and beer. It’s kind of my thing.”

She made a sound in her throat.

“Well, we’ll see.”

I grinned.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun to see you try.”