Page 1 of Be With Me

Prologue

Tyler - Eight Months Ago

Isucked in a breath, blinking against the bright glare of a streetlight and gagging at the stench in the air. When I could focus, I looked around, trying to figure out where the fuck I was.

There was a hard, brick wall I was currently slumped against, and in front of me was some sort of large, metal container. Bags that reeked like rotten food and God knew what else overflowed the top and hid me from anyone who might happen to come along.

When I could manage it, I crawled out of the piles of trash. It was dark, the alley lit by that damn streetlight. I felt around for my cell phone. I had no fucking idea what time it was, or even what day. What I did know was my head felt like it was about to explode, and I hoped like hell no one I knew would see me like this. I had no recollection of going out, or of drinking, but if the taste of death in my mouth was any indication, that’s exactly what I’d been doing.

Shaken up, more than a little disoriented, and still searching for my phone, I wracked my brain trying to remember what the fuck had happened. But nothing came to me. It was like I’d lost time somehow. My heart began to pound and a sheen of sweat broke out across my skin despite the cool temperature. I was fucking scared, my pulse rising to near heart attack levels, when this little tan dog came trotting up to me with his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

He looked so happy to see me, greeting me like he’d been waiting for me for hours, I forgot my own issues, if only for a moment or two. I looked around again, expecting his owner to come around the corner looking for him, but no one ever did. I checked for a collar, but he had no tags.

As I rubbed his soft head, I sagged against the side of the building, and the pounding in my ears began to slow to a more normal beat.

Dogs, man. We didn’t deserve them.

After a while, I tried to get him to go home, assuring him I had nothing on me he would want. He didn’t seem to believe me, though, so eventually I gave up trying to convince him to leave and just let him hang out. Patting down my pockets and kicking the trash around on the ground, I tried one more time to find my phone, but it wasn’t on me. And I had no idea where I’d left it.

With a groan, I looked down at the dog. “What the actual fuck happened here?” I pressed the heels of my hands into my pounding temples. My voice sounded like I’d been screaming all night and my eyes burned like hell, so I closed them as I tried to get my shit together. When I opened them again, my new friend was still there. “I feel like shit,” I told him.

The dog cocked his head at my words. Then he ran off. I thought maybe he’d finally came to his senses and realized I had no food for him. But a few seconds later, he was back.

With a Snickers bar in his mouth.

Full-sized, too. None of that bite-sized crap.

He dropped it at my feet and barked. I eyed up the candy through eyes that were squinted against the pain in my head, and my stomach growled like I hadn’t eaten in a week. And for all I knew, I hadn’t. But still… “Sorry, man. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know where you got that or what might be in it. So, I’m gonna pass.”

I left the candy bar there. To my right, I saw a street, and I staggered in that direction. Above me, thunder rattled the sky, and I covered my ears in an effort to keep my head from pounding along with the wheels of the light rail. Seemed I was in a bad area of Belltown. Okay. I made my way down the main street until I could flag down a taxi to take me home.

The pup followed me out to the road, sitting beside me as I waited for my ride like he belonged there. And when the taxi pulled over, he let out this pathetic little whine, giving me the biggest, saddest, puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen in my life.

I eyed him as I stood there with the back door open. I wanted to help him, but as I was recently discovering, I could barely take care of myself.

However, at the thought of leaving him there and heading home to spend the rest of the night alone, my heart picked up again, so fast and hard I swayed on my feet.

Finally, I sighed and gave in. “You wanna come?”

That was all the invitation he needed. With a happy grin on his furry face, he hopped into the back, sitting on the seat like he did this sort of thing all the time.

Later the next day, I found out I’d been MIA for two days.

This was the first time that had ever happened to me. I lost five more days and spent hundreds on doctor copays over the next three months, trying to figure out why I couldn’t remember going out or why I’d blacked out when I didn’t remember drinking. I was tested for every physical ailment under the sun. No one could tell me what had happened, or why, and eventually, I just gave up.

Determined not to spend my life agonizing over a few weird days, I pushed the memories—or lack thereof—to the back of mind and forgot about them.

Not so much the dog.

Nah. He stayed with me.

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