Page 75 of The Weight Of Falling
A sudden gust of wind lifts a scrap of paper and sends it skittering across the sidewalk, as if the street itself is turning a page. For a moment, the notion that a town can steer people feels a little less fanciful and a little more possible. I breathe in the cool night air, feel the warm, solid presence of Joel next to me, and let that strange comfort settle in my chest.
31
[MESSAGES]
SOFIA:The rumor mill just hit DEFCON 1.
TESS:Your crime spree is the talk of the town.
KENZIE:It wasn’t a crime. It was a community service.
SOFIA:The classic defense...the glass threw itself at my good intentions.
TESS:The latest is that you smashed five windows. With your bare hands.
SOFIA:It’s the most cardio you’ve done since we parked too far from the gym.
TESS:Why didn’t you just open the door?
KENZIE:It was locked!
SOFIA:Next time call me. I have keys to everything.
TESS:In more news, the demon beagle you rescued bit Owen, who needed twenty-five stitches.
SOFIA:My source says Owen lost a hand.
TESS:To be fair, he loses that hand every time he tells a fishing story.
SOFIA:Courtney is insisting you spent the night in a holding cell.
TESS:But you managed to escape, Shawshank Redemption style, and you’re now at home.
SOFIA:Wait, are you at home? Message me on my burner.
KENZIE:Why do you... Never mind.
TESS:The town gossip is that you’re with Joel.
SOFIA:Who punched Owen for being too rough during the arrest.
TESS:You have to love small town melodrama.
SOFIA:Who needs Game of Thrones when we have Kenzie, Hero of Dogs, Menace of Glass, Protector of Brown Oaks.
32
The beagle lets out a low, anxious whine the second I push open the door to the vet clinic.
“I get it, buddy,” I murmur, bending to scratch the soft spot behind his long ears. “Doctors aren’t my favorite either.”
I give my name to the receptionist and take a seat in the waiting room. The beagle nudges his head into my hand, then lets out another whine. I rub slow circles between his shoulder blades, feeling each nervous breath under my hand.
“You’re okay,” I tell him. “It’s just a quick checkup, and then we’ll try to find your owner.”
He looks up at me, his big brown eyes full of worry. He has one of those earnest little faces that make you want to protect him from the world. I smile, even as my heart aches a little at the thought of saying goodbye to him. He slept at the edge of my bed like a perfect gentleman last night, only fussing at dawn to go outside.
A few minutes later, the vet calls us in.
