Page 23 of The Good Guy on My Porch

CHAPTER FIVE

Dilly

“I’ve done a bad thing,” I said, my arms tight around Buddy as I looked up at Oscar.

He didn’t seem convinced as he bent and patted Buddy on the head. “As long as you didn’t kidnap him, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Buddy lifted his head, leaned into Oscar’s petting, and whined gently in the back of his throat. “I didn’t kidnap him, I adopted him.”

Oscar took a seat on the other side of Buddy, an eight-year-old German shepherd. “And that’s bad why?”

I swallowed hard, torn between the hysteria of laughing like a maniac and crying. What the hell had I gotten myself into? “I, um, I guess I should…” I patted Buddy’s furry side. Oscar didn’t need to hear my problems, my stupid choices. He was my neighbor, barely my friend. “You know what? It’s fine.” I pushed to my feet and Buddy stood with me, so trusting. “It’s late. I’m going to get Buddy settled and I…” Shit, I needed to get Buddy food and a…Did I need a dog bed? What the hell had I been thinking when I’d agreed to take him in? I could barely keep myself and my mother fully functional, how would I care for anyone else?

Oscar stood and faced me. “Wait,” he said. “I want to hear this story.”

I smiled, wishing I was the person he thought I was. “It’s late. And I’m starving. I—”

“Perfect. Don’t move.”

He ran into his side of the duplex, the door already unlocked, probably by his live-in girlfriend, and I just stood there and did what he’d asked, because I was a stupid sucker and I wanted to know what was going on.

He returned a moment later with a plastic container in his hands. “I owe you dinner, but you’ve been so busy…” He grinned. “I made this for you last night, but you weren’t home when I brought it over.”

I took the container from him. “Thanks.” I felt like crying. I was so overwhelmed by life and Buddy and it made my day so much easier not to have to worry about dinner, to know that Oscar had been thinking of me. “You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate—”

He shoved past me and walked right into my side of the duplex like he lived there. “Come on,” he said from inside my home. “It’s a chicken pot pie, so you have to reheat it in the oven to keep the crust crispy.”

I followed him inside, closing the door behind me. “I’m pretty sure I could figure it out on my own.”

He placed a pie plate on the counter and reached for the plastic container I held. Where had he found a pie plate in my house? I handed over the container and watched as he slid the enormous slice of chicken pot pie onto the plate. He pressed some buttons on the stove and turned to face me. “I can leave,” he said. “You can stick that in the oven for five minutes once the oven heats up and eat alone. Or I can stay and you can tell me why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” I said with a forced smile.

He stalked over to me, until he was so close I wanted to lean forward and let his strength hold me up. “Your eyes are sad, and you’ve got that little crinkle between your brows that means you’re worried. Let me be your friend, Dilly. Tell me what’s going on.”

Buddy settled at my feet and looked up at me, his eyes big and sad like he was worried about me, too. I hated this feeling. I hated being surrounded by pity and worry. It was fine. I could handle this. Buddy’s doggy expression was so hopeful, so loving, even though he was a big, old, tough German Shepherd. It wasn’t just about me anymore. I sat at the kitchen table and gestured for Oscar to do the same. “I met Buddy when I was volunteering at the animal shelter in town,” I said. “Do you know Lola Waters? She runs the shelter.”

Oscar nodded and waited, just listening. Damn it, why did he have to be so nice? I couldn’t handle nice, couldn’t handle leaning on anyone, because it would only hurt that much more when he walked away.

“Buddy’s a sweet dog, but he’s eight years old and he’s got a limp from hip dysplasia. No one wanted to adopt him, but I just…” I sniffled. Was I crying? What the actual fuck was wrong with me? “I fell in love with him. I can’t have a dog, I don’t have time for a dog, but when Lola called me and told me she was going to have to put Buddy down, I just couldn’t let that happen.” I was full on sobbing now, tears streaming down my face. “I just couldn’t let him die and do nothing about it.”

Oscar’s warm arms wrapped around me and I let myself do something I hadn’t done in years, I let him hold me up while I cried on his shoulder. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying, except that Mom wasn’t doing well lately, she’d needed more and more from me, until I didn’t have anything left to give, and now I had Buddy who deserved so much more than me.

The oven beeped and I broke free of Oscar’s arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying about this.”

He didn’t let me go. “Because you’re a good person and you love Buddy and you want the best for him. I just don’t understand why you think you can’t give that to him.”

“Because I work all day and, in the evenings,…” There was no way to explain this to Oscar. “I…”

“You want to spend time with your boyfriend,” he said, giving me the lie I needed. “Doesn’t he like dogs?”

“Of course,” I said, feeling defensive of my imaginary boyfriend. “But he’s…He’s allergic. I don’t want to leave Buddy alone, but I don’t want to lose Jerome either.”

Oscar stood and put the chicken pie in the oven. When he came back to the table he took a seat across from me. “I want to help,” he said. “I can take Buddy whenever you can’t be home. I could even come home on my lunch break sometimes to hang out with him.”

Hope flared for a moment, but it quickly died. Oscar wouldn’t believe my lie for long when it was one in the morning and I had to leave to be with my mother. What kind of boyfriend expected midnight booty calls…Actually, this might just work. It’d make my imaginary boyfriend look like a dick, but it would be worth it to give Buddy the life he deserved. “I’ll come home for my lunch breaks, too. And I’ll only ask you to check on Buddy when it’s absolutely necessary.”

At some point during our conversation, Buddy had walked around the table and laid his head in Oscar’s lap. Oscar smiled down at the sweet dog and petted him between the ears. “I doubt he’s a lot of work,” he said. “Maybe we should co-parent.”

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