Page 91 of Will Bark for Pizza
I navigated to the voicemail box on my phone and listened to Lila’s message on speaker.
“Hey! Hope you’re writing up a storm because I haven’t heard from you in a few days. No pressure oranything, but your readers are dying to know when Mateo’s story is coming. You ready to put up a preorder soon?”
Shit. My fault for writing a fucking love triangle and leaving one of the characters without a happily ever after.
“Anyway, I had an epic idea I wanted to run by you, so call me back soon. Love you!”
I meant to hit the call back button, but something caught my eye before I could.
“Blocked voicemails?” I murmured. I’d never noticed that feature on my phone before.Huh.
For curiosity’s sake—or maybe I was procrastinating heading back to the farm—I selected it.
An explosion of voicemails appeared on the screen, all from the same 402 area code. I was fairly certain I blocked this specific number earlier this week, when an unwanted text message showed up in my inbox. I scrolled through the long list as disbelief warred with anger.
Anger won.
“Twenty-five. Twenty-fucking-five?”
My stomach plummeted into my toes, and I suddenly felt sick.
The bastard had called metwenty-fivefucking times since I blocked his numberthreedays ago.
After ayearof me not responding to a single message, call, or email.
What the actual fuck?
I refused to listen to a single one, but I opened the transcript of the most recent one, to be sure I wasn’t overreacting. The cryptic message spelled out on my screen made my skin crawl. Most of it didn’t make sense. Something about the FBI and how they were out to get him.God, this again.It was obvious Travis was shit-faced drunk when he left it.
My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. I set it on the bench beside me as I felt my throat constrict. Husker paced in front of me, both eager to get back to walking and also concerned for me. I hated how this still affected me so strongly. How it affected Husker, too.
I should call someone.
Aspen would tell me to change my phone number. Again.
Alyssa would insist I get a restraining order.
Lila would—well, it was hard to tell what she would do. She was a little unpredictable. She might tell me to delete all the messages so they no longer took up energy on my phone, or she might offer to sneak over to Travis’ house and put raw shrimp in his ventilation system.
Luke, if he wasn’t in thehating memode, would do something reckless like drive to Omaha.
Beckett—
I shook my head, warding off the thought. It was enough to stop the tears from falling.
Beckett would do something chivalrous. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. He would do or say exactly what I needed him to do or say. And that was the very reason I couldn’t involve him in any of this. If I needed a sign, Nana’s surprise arrival was surely it. It may as well be a blinking neon sign:Leave Beckett out of your hot mess. He deserves better.
Tears started to fall, and I knew what came next.
I braced for the panic attack that wrecked me, sofucking thankful I was more than a mile away from anyone who might find me. Bonus points for the ugly sobbing noises doubling as bear deterrent.
Small wins.
I don’t know how long I stayed there on that bench and cried. Only that the overcast sky grew darker, warning me I should head back to the farm before anyone came looking for me.
“Sorry, Bubbies,” I said to Husker, forcing a hug on him. He hated them, but for two and a half seconds, he gave in and let me hold him close. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
We headed back to the house and snuck in the mudroom door, finding the place quiet. Everyone would be gathered outside, around the firepit off the back patio, for the s’mores Opal insisted were nonnegotiable.
