Page 72 of The Weight Of Falling
“I’m going to have to take you in,” Owen says on a defeated sigh.
“Take me in,” I repeat stupidly.
“This is damage to property and unlawful entry.”
A fresh wave of panic swamps me. I picture myself in handcuffs, wearing a baggy orange jumpsuit and spending the rest of my life talking to visitors through a glass screen.
“What’s going on?” asks a deep, male voice. A voice I am intimately familiar with.
I close my eyes, a shudder moving through me.
No, no, no.
Anger ripples through Joel’s voice. “And what happened to my window?”
30
“What are you doing here, Joel?” Owen asks.
“I got a call saying someone broke into my studio.”
Owen raises his eyebrows. “Your studio? I thought you worked out of that place on Cherry Blossom?”
“I did, but I needed a bigger space,” Joel explains. “The lease only went through a week ago. I haven’t moved my equipment over yet.” He turns to me, frowning. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part,” Owen drawls. “Your fiancée broke your window to get to a dog she says was locked inside.”
Joel’s eyes fasten on me, wide with shock. “You broke my window.”
I feel a dart of defensiveness. “You locked this poor dog inside.”
“Is that true?” Owen asks Joel.
“Yes, I left the dog in the studio, but—”
“How can you be so cruel?” I burst out, outrage welling up inside me. “He was thirsty and hungry and all alone. I wasn’t sure how long he would survive in there.”
Joel lets out a low, humorless laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Just look at him,” I say, pointing dramatically.
All three of us glance down at the beagle rolling on the sidewalk by my feet, his black, tan, and white coat a little scruffy, but still striking, his big, brown eyes bright and alert. He gives ajoyful bark as if pleased to be the center of attention. He looks healthy and happy.
I start to feel a little sick.
Owen lifts his brows at Joel. “You want to explain why you locked a dog in your studio with no access to food or water?”
Joel crosses his arms, looking more irritated by the minute. “I was working late. When I went to lock up, this dog was hanging around. I tried calling animal shelters, but they’d already closed. I didn’t want to leave him outside all night, so I brought him in.”
“Why didn’t you take him home?” I press.
“I’m in a rental with a strict no-pets policy.”
“But he was hungry and thirsty—”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Yes, he was.”
