inside it as Grady steps outside to face the intruder. Please, God. I pray for the man I married for the first time in too many years. Please, God, keep him safe.
* * * *
Luckily our gang of ax murderers turns out to be a young raccoon that the dog has cornered between the garage and the trash cans. Its frightened eyes reflect the beam of the floodlight as Grady grabs Ares, who’s slavering and straining against his collar so hard he chokes himself. The raccoon blinks gratefully at us before lumbering away like a tiny bear.
“Our fierce protector,” Grady says wryly, stroking Ares between the ears. Ares whines and growls after the raccoon even though it’s already disappeared, reluctant to obey Grady’s orders to settle down and clearly quite pleased with himself for protecting the integrity of Donna’s trash cans.
I’m clutching my chest through my thin pajama top when I run up behind him. I couldn’t just stand there in the kitchen counting for two minutes, so I peeked out the window, and as soon as I realized there weren’t homicidal maniacs in the yard I came out after him.
“Oh, shit, that scared me,” I confess with a nervous laugh. In the forty-five seconds it took Grady to assess the situation I’d already created a scene in my head in which the entire family was slaughtered, including Ares who managed to avenge our deaths by taking down a couple of the murderers before they got him, too. I’m giddy with relief that it was just a baby raccoon.
“He must’ve smelled yesterday’s party in our trash cans.”
“Aww, poor little guy. He’s hungry!” Suddenly I’m sad for the raccoon.
Grady shakes his head at me and leads a still-agitated Ares back across the yard by his collar. “We’re lucky he didn’t wake the whole damn neighborhood. I shouldn’t have left him out there so late, but he loves this cool weather.” He strokes Ares again, whose ruff is still standing on end. Ares makes little woofing noises deep in his throat and stares back at the trash cans as if he’s a little doubtful the danger has really passed.
“I’m glad someone loves this weather,” I grumble. “It’s really cold out here!” It’s barely forty degrees and I’m barefoot in my PJ’s hopping from foot to foot.
Grady scowls at me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
“Um… yeah, you did, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured it was safe.”
“That’s not the point. You should’ve stayed put.” He shakes his head. “You’re a terrible listener. Stubborn as ever.”
“But—”
He interrupts me. “And no shoes and no coat.”
“Grady, it was an emergency.”
“It was a raccoon. C’mon, go. Get yourself back in there before you freeze.”
I scurry back in and hose my feet off in the mudroom, still shivering, heart racing from the shock of the past ten minutes. Grady leads Ares back in and locks the back door before striding through the kitchen to check Donna’s front door, as he always does before turning in for the night. I get a little flushed watching him move purposefully through the house to keep us all safe, and as he heads back upstairs and I’m finally alone I allow myself the memory of our almost-kiss. His hands on me, his breath hot against my throat, the words we both wanted to say.
I can’t give it head space, because it will overwhelm me. I want to dissect it, flay it apart and examine every bit of it, but it’s still too fresh and I’m emotionally exhausted. I can’t do this.
Instead, I busy myself by switching over the last load of laundry and folding the last few towels before I head upstairs. Ares is on the landing where the stairs turn, waiting for me to come upstairs. When I pass him he dutifully trots behind me up the stairs and plops himself down in the hallway just outside the bathroom, where I hear the hiss of the shower.
We always talked about getting a dog. Grady made a strong case, but the kids were too little and I knew I would’ve been the
* * * *
Luckily our gang of ax murderers turns out to be a young raccoon that the dog has cornered between the garage and the trash cans. Its frightened eyes reflect the beam of the floodlight as Grady grabs Ares, who’s slavering and straining against his collar so hard he chokes himself. The raccoon blinks gratefully at us before lumbering away like a tiny bear.
“Our fierce protector,” Grady says wryly, stroking Ares between the ears. Ares whines and growls after the raccoon even though it’s already disappeared, reluctant to obey Grady’s orders to settle down and clearly quite pleased with himself for protecting the integrity of Donna’s trash cans.
I’m clutching my chest through my thin pajama top when I run up behind him. I couldn’t just stand there in the kitchen counting for two minutes, so I peeked out the window, and as soon as I realized there weren’t homicidal maniacs in the yard I came out after him.
“Oh, shit, that scared me,” I confess with a nervous laugh. In the forty-five seconds it took Grady to assess the situation I’d already created a scene in my head in which the entire family was slaughtered, including Ares who managed to avenge our deaths by taking down a couple of the murderers before they got him, too. I’m giddy with relief that it was just a baby raccoon.
“He must’ve smelled yesterday’s party in our trash cans.”
“Aww, poor little guy. He’s hungry!” Suddenly I’m sad for the raccoon.
Grady shakes his head at me and leads a still-agitated Ares back across the yard by his collar. “We’re lucky he didn’t wake the whole damn neighborhood. I shouldn’t have left him out there so late, but he loves this cool weather.” He strokes Ares again, whose ruff is still standing on end. Ares makes little woofing noises deep in his throat and stares back at the trash cans as if he’s a little doubtful the danger has really passed.
“I’m glad someone loves this weather,” I grumble. “It’s really cold out here!” It’s barely forty degrees and I’m barefoot in my PJ’s hopping from foot to foot.
Grady scowls at me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
“Um… yeah, you did, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured it was safe.”
“That’s not the point. You should’ve stayed put.” He shakes his head. “You’re a terrible listener. Stubborn as ever.”
“But—”
He interrupts me. “And no shoes and no coat.”
“Grady, it was an emergency.”
“It was a raccoon. C’mon, go. Get yourself back in there before you freeze.”
I scurry back in and hose my feet off in the mudroom, still shivering, heart racing from the shock of the past ten minutes. Grady leads Ares back in and locks the back door before striding through the kitchen to check Donna’s front door, as he always does before turning in for the night. I get a little flushed watching him move purposefully through the house to keep us all safe, and as he heads back upstairs and I’m finally alone I allow myself the memory of our almost-kiss. His hands on me, his breath hot against my throat, the words we both wanted to say.
I can’t give it head space, because it will overwhelm me. I want to dissect it, flay it apart and examine every bit of it, but it’s still too fresh and I’m emotionally exhausted. I can’t do this.
Instead, I busy myself by switching over the last load of laundry and folding the last few towels before I head upstairs. Ares is on the landing where the stairs turn, waiting for me to come upstairs. When I pass him he dutifully trots behind me up the stairs and plops himself down in the hallway just outside the bathroom, where I hear the hiss of the shower.
We always talked about getting a dog. Grady made a strong case, but the kids were too little and I knew I would’ve been the
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