Hello again my lovelies! The chapters are starting to get longer as of here. And don't worry, no animals were harmed in the production of this chapter.
Enjoy!
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Tom
"Are you sure you can't stay for lunch? I made enough for three."
After three weeks, her voice still annoys me. It's a mix of sweet, innocent and caring.
"C'mon, don't disappoint the lady," Kyle says next to me. "She made extra for you."
Judging by the amount of pasta she's boiling, she's making enough for six.
"I've got shit to do," I say.
"No, you don't."
I glare at Kyle.
"Ow! Fuck!" Catherine yelps
I'm two steps away from her but before I can reach her to find out what's happened, her overgrown pup has darted across the room and is circling around her legs.
"What happened?" Kyle and I ask in unison.
"Splashback from the bacon," she answers, grabbing a bag of peas from the freezer and holding it against her neck and chest. "I'll be back in a moment. Don't let anything burn."
She leaves us alone and Kyle goes to stir the bacon.
"Why are you here?" I ask him. "Babysitting is above your rank. Hell, it's above mine. I don't understand why we haven't got some of the prospects to do this job."
He turns around and fixes me with a steely gaze as he leans back against the counter. "Pete volunteered because it's an easy job and he's getting old; I was just supposed to stand in for the day when Shorty screwed the pooch and ended up liking being here; and you're here for not listening to your da' when he told you to keep your mouth shut."
"But it's so boring just sitting around all day watching some princess do nothing."
He clenches his jaw in annoyance. Before, that look would have made me regret opening my big mouth. Now, not so much.
Just then, Catherine walks in. "Thank you for keeping an eye on the food." She's changed into a large man's T-shirt that almost reaches her knees. Cute.
Kyle's expression instantly changes. "It's grand, banphrionsa."
She positively beams at him, making me frown. What's with these two? I've never seen Kyle be so nice to someone before.
Catherine
I wave Pete off with a generous slice of cake (sugar free for his diabetes) and turn to Tom with an evil smile.
"You're already dressed," he remarks, looking at me suspiciously.
"Mm-hm. I couldn't help but overhear you complain yesterday about how bored you are with sitting around all day."
He narrows his eyes at me
"So I thought we could go for a hike today."
He scowls at me and makes a noise that sounds like a growl.
I can't help but smirk. Kyle was right. He certainly looks like he hates this plan. "Don't worry, I've packed plenty of snacks and water," I say as I grab Bach's saddle bag and open the door to leave. "Come on! We haven't got all day!"
***
He pulls in on his bike seconds after I've parked my car.
"You can leave anything you don't want to lose in my car," I offer as I get out.
"Anyone who touches my bike knows that they will lose that hand."
I smile, despite myself, as certain memories come flooding back to me. "Even your helmet?"
He begrudgingly drops his helmet and gloves into the boot from where I'm pulling out Bach's saddlebag.
I tell Bach to sit and he immediately obeys. I pull his front legs through the arm holes of the saddlebag and fasten the ties across his chest.
"The left side is Bach's stuff; the right side is ours," I tell Tom. "All righty, let's go!"
We plod along secluded paths in near silence. It's nice to be hiking again through trees. The greenery reminds me of home. We also make plenty of stops to drink water and for me to take photos. Every time I stop and pull out my phone I can hear Tom sigh behind me. After a few hours of walking, I find a place to sit and crack out the snacks but not before taking the bag off Bach and telling him to have a run around.
"Why did you name him after a movie dog?" Tom asks, watching Bach scamper past us and dive into a bush.
"Which movie dog?"
"You know, the film with the dog with the weird name. Bach, wasn't it?"
I look at him, racking my brain until it comes to me. "Do you mean Beethoven?" I ask chuckling.
"Yeah, that one."
I laugh and suddenly feel bad for laughing at him. "Beethoven was a musician, although so was Bach. But my Bach wasn't named after the musician. It means 'little one' in Welsh. It's an ironic name."
"My mom had a dog called lady and she definitely wasn't a lady. She had so many pups they just fell out towards the end."
I laugh but it comes out as a huff.
The bush suddenly starts shaking violently and Bach leaps out with a dead rat in his mouth. Delightful.
***
When we reach the last half mile on the way back to the car, Bach lets out a high pitched cry.
Concerned, I hurry over to him. "What's wrong baby?" I coo.
One of his back paws is raised and I crouch down to inspect it. There's a large piece of glass embedded in the pad.
"Fuck, I don't have anything to pull it out." I look at it closer. "And it's going to need a stitch."
"What's happened?" Tom asks from behind me.
I stand and tell him about the glass. Bach is sitting on the ground, pitifully licking at his paw.
"Fuck it, we're going to have to carry him to the car."
Tom does a double take. "We're going to what now?"
Not wanting to lose any more time just standing around, I take the bag of Bach and hand it to Tom. "You carry this."
He snorts. "And what? You're going to carry Bach?"
I ignore him and position myself in front of my baby boy with my back to him. He knows the drill. He places his front paws on my shoulders and his back legs at my hips.
"And up we go!" I gasp, staggering a little under the weight.
"Jesus, how much does he weigh?" Tom asks, clearly impressed.
"About 180 lb. Now let's go! I'm not going to carry him forever!"
I walk as fast as I can to the car, breathing heavily. As we get closer Tom runs ahead to bring the car closer to the trail. The moment we reach the car, I gently drop Bach back to the ground and gasp for air as Tom opens the back door. Bach limps over.
"We're going to the vet," I tell Tom as I help Bach get in.
He nods, grabs his helmet and gloves from the boot and peels out the parking lot behind me on his bike.
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