Page 30 of Will Bark for Pizza
I held up my hands to show my dog I did not, in fact, have any pizza on me. His ears were extra sensitive to that word. Convinced I was telling the truth, he resumed his obsessive licking of Opal. She was the only one he willingly gave a kiss to. And I’d resorted to begging.
“Dale, why don’t you order us some pizzas for tonight?” Grandma Connie said. “I can make lasagna another night.”
“Husker, let the girl breathe,” I said.
Opal giggled some more as she pushed back to her feet and sprinted for me. She attacked me in a hug, her tiny arms wrapping around my waist and squeezing surprisingly hard for an eight-year-old. I nearly went backwards. “Aunty Kira, I’m so glad you came.”
“It’s good to see you, kiddo.”
Husker circled us a few times, until he spotted my middle brother.
“Kira?” Connor’s confusion was warranted. But at least he, the peacekeeper in our family, was bound to be nicer about my surprise visit than Luke.
“Hey, Connor.”
After Husker got all the booty scratches out of Connor he could, he returned to Opal’s side to lick one of her hands again. She giggled, and the two trotted off toward Grandma Connie and her asparagus bucket.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Connor said, sounding almost hurt.
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Everything okay?”
I studied him, searching for any sign that he was still peeved with me. I’d said some hurtful things to him, too. But his eyes held only compassion.
“Want to take a walk?”
“I need to check on the chickens,” he said, his statement an invitation.
After I secured Husker to a long lead and Opal promised to keep him out of trouble, I followed my brother toward the chicken coop that stood in the middle of the two houses on the expansive property. Aside from the rescue cow, Millie, the chickens were the only animals on the piece of land we’d all calledthe farmsince we were kids. And they were new, within the past few years. It was Grandma Connie’s gigantic garden, more than anything, that gave this place the feeling of a farm. I couldn’t remember which of us kids had started the nickname the entire family adopted.
The chickens were Emily’s idea. My late sister-in-law had designed the elaborate chicken coop that resembled ahobbit house the year before she passed, and I knew Connor would never change it.
“I’m sorry for all the terrible things I said last summer,” I said, before I lost my nerve. “I was in a bad place. It’s not an excuse. I just?—”
“Travis gone?”
“I broke up with him that night,” I admitted.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, I did.”
I gulped a swallow, feeling a fresh wave of anxiety threaten to undo me. I was done crying over this shit. At least, I really wanted to be. I watched as he grabbed a basket for the eggs just outside the enclosure, and then followed him as he crouched through the circular door just to navigate it. Emily had been nearly a foot shorter than him and used to tease him about being a giant.
“I said all kinds of things. I just didn’t say any of it well.”
“I figured the breakup was a recent thing, considering the hair.”
I combed my fingers through my long hair, tucking it behind my ear. Travis hated me as anything other than a platinum blonde. Dyeing my hair red was the latest silent middle finger I gave him, right after he changed his number yet again and gave me another thing to block. Not that he ever knew it. But it felt good, all the same.
“The hair was a more recent decision.”
“You’re really done with the guy?”
“I’ve been no contact for almost a year.”
It didn’t mean Travis respected that boundary. He blew up my phone with hundreds of text messagesat first, saying anything and everything to get my attention. Eventually, I found the courage to block his number. But he still found creative ways to bother me. Most recently, he Venmoed me fifty dollars for my birthday. I used it to buy a steak dinner, and then blocked him there, too.
