Page 101 of Junkyard Dog

When she didn’t respond immediately, his shoulders tensed.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” she finally said softly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to reply to that.”

“You’re not.” He sighed, turning off the lights. “I just want you to know where you stand with me. I miss you. I miss us. I don’t really know if I’m supposed to be tiptoeing around it, or if I’m breaking some weird quasi-relationship rule, but there it is.” He glared into the darkness. “And if it helps, hound form is secondary to this one up here. Different story in Hades, but I don’t intend to be down there much if you and I… Yeah.”

She exhaled. “We kind of walked into this on a timeline. What if things weren’t the same without it?”

“And what if they’re better?” he countered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Maybe instead of being some random guy with a short shelf life, I could be, I don’t know, the one or something.” He cringed at the bitter tone of his voice and paced the small floor space. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “I completely forgot how much I talked to Butch. You know what? That’s a real dick move. Like eavesdropping.”

He ran his hand over his face. “That’s what you’re focusing on? Dammit, Charlotte. If you’re so determined to bring Butch into it, how about zooming in on the amount of time I spent riding around in the back of that truck to make sure you weren’t offed by the goddamn Pirithous? Getting one or two hours of sleep a night? Or maybe you could zero in on every time my legs cramped up in the back seat so I could keep those FBI assholes in their place.”

“Don’t you go acting like you were protecting me from the big, bad, single cops for any reason other than irrational jealousy,” she hissed back.

“Of course I was fucking jealous! That’s not the point,” he snarled, releasing the death grip he had on his phone before he crushed it. “I was guarding you. Always. Fucking. Guarding you. I’m a goddamn guard dog, Charlotte!”

She went silent.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, his anger and frustration combusting, leaving nothing but resignation in its wake. “I guess that’s it, though, isn’t it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as a shuddered breath came over the phone. “I don’t know how to separate the two,” she said, her voice trembling.

Separate the two.

Her words went straight to his core.

The blessing of his brothers. The faint hope Hades would lengthen his leash.

None of it mattered when he couldn’t change what he was.

He sat down on his sofa, resting his elbows on his knees. “Me either. Night, baby.”

*

“Chuck.”

Charlotte jolted from her thoughts, blinking rapidly. “Sorry. What?”

Max sighed and tossed a sandwich onto her lap. “I said, we’re heading out Saturday for dinner and drinks. You’re coming.”

She nodded absently, scanning the dark campground for movement. Or Persephone. “I hate these evening shifts.”

“Preaching to the choir,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Screws over your day and your night. Probably a lot like being married.”

She peeked into her sandwich, content to find nothing but ham and cheese. “Easier on the bank account at least.” She unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her legs up. “So I’ve been talking with Alex again.” Max motioned for her to continue, barely able to chew the huge bite he’d taken. “Deal breakers are deal breakers, right? Like, if there’s something really off about someone, that’s it for a relationship, right?”

He swallowed, coughing for a moment. “Like his eyes?”

“What the hell?” she exclaimed. “No. His eyes are very cool. I mean something about him.”

“His job?”

Giving Max a flat stare, she took a drink from her water bottle. “What’s wrong with his job?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging. “I don’t know what else. Is he a closet asshole? A drinker? Does he kill bunnies in his spare time?”

“I…” She paused, contemplating the bunny question. “Nothing like that. More like a family issue. A genetic family issue.”

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