Page 91 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Maybe that’s because I’ve been sick once today already—my own fault, of course. I let Dollie seep into my subconscious. Let her invade my dreams and touch me in a way she shouldn’t.
And I know that’s so fucking wrong.
But words can’t explain how much I miss her. How much I fucking need to have her close to me, erasing the thoughts I can’t escape on my own.
We were so fucking close all those years ago before my imprisonment ripped us apart. It was like we shared a damn soul.
And yet she chose him, and she’ll go back to him. I can feel it in my bones.
And it infuriates me.
The rage I feel over Shane dilutes slightly as my hand fills with a dog’s curly hair. I glance down to find Bubbles’ head in my lap. She’s probably the only soul in the world who looks up at me without judgment in her eyes these days.
For that, I offer her some comfort, and she nuzzles in.
Luckily, she stays on the floor, just filling my hand with her face. If she were to jump up, we’d both be on the floor because the battered stool, which might just be older than me, creaks for the dozenth time. Sitting on it risks my dodgy knee, but I needed a break from staring down at a woman waiting to die.
It’s cruel… for us both.
One of many nurses enters from the living room, where Mrs. Bannadosi lies on her bed, struggling to breathe.
I hear each groaning wheeze beyond the birds.
The young woman takes a step back as she sees my face. Unlike Bubbles, this person is staring and not even trying to hide her disgust. Even though she has many skills, masking her terror isn’t one of them. She’s either heard the rumors or the gashes on my face do the same to her as they do me…repulse her.
She spits out the words, “I’m sorry. It’s probably a matter of days. She isn’t doing well, and the treatment is failing her. It could be as soon as forty-eight hours.” A sad smile sits on her lips long enough for me to spy the fake sympathy she feels shehas to give me before she disappears back into the room faster than she appeared in this one.
Bubbles makes a noise that sounds like the poor dog’s way of telling me she’s sad right now.
Stepping down from my seat, I take her into the yard and kick a stick for her, but she doesn’t chase it.
In the long grass, she lingers at my side, staring up at me as her ungroomed tail flicks dust over my boots.
I step around her and drop to my haunches, taking her face in my hands.
This poor dog is about to have life as she knows it ripped away from her, and I know how awful that is.
It’s happened to me three times. And it’s been shit every time.
There are two options for her future: a shelter, where she may not live much longer than her owner, and that future is cut short, or I take her home to Dollie and force that girl to acknowledge me and whatever is between us. Her birthday is coming up, and I’ve missed so many of them.
I sigh.
What will I do with you in the coming days?I wonder silently, and she tilts her head like she’s listening to my thoughts.Could you be the perfect present to break the ice between us?
CHAPTER 23
Dollie—present day
Waving Annabelle off at the door laces me with anxiety, but I stand there with a smile on my face as she starts her little yellow car.
“You call me if you need anything,” she shouts through her open window before feeding my anxiety and reversing too close to the cliff’s edge.
I scrunch my eyes closed. I cannot look.
The small engine screams as the tires turn through mud, and her high-pitched car horn alerts me to her safety.
“Good luck!” I shout.
