Glory. “That poor …” She shuddered.
“I found it tied up in the backyard of a house no one lives in,” said the woman. “I can’t keep it—or him, or her, or whatever it is—but I couldn’t just leave it there, right?” She shifted nervously from foot to foot, as if the good people of Lost Paws weren’t going to take this thing off her hands. “I mean, it would starve.”
“It looks starving already,” said the twin.
It was maybe the ugliest animal Madison had ever seen. If a wolverine had mated with a dirty yarn mop, and the resulting baby had mated with a giant rat—well, this dog would be the end result.
No one wanted to touch it. Not even Stan, aka Forearms, who was the person Ryan called to pull plastic bags out of Tootsie the poodle’s behind after she got into the trash.
The skinny, trembling little dog gazed up at Madison. One sad, cloudy eye met hers; the other looked off to the side. As she watched, it whined, lay down at her feet, and licked, ever so hesitantly, the tip of her shoe.
And Madison burst into tears.
“What the—” breathed Ryan. “Are you kidding me? It’s just a little dog saliva. Your shoes will survive.”
But she was already running out the door.
A few hours later, Madison was standing in the living room of Charlie’s former bungalow, with the last suitcase of toiletries by her feet. The furniture, the rugs, the throw pillows, the lamps: All of it was gone, and the rooms suddenly looked small and dark and cold. Madison’s footsteps echoed on the gleaming oak floor as she made one final check around the house. There was no trace of her now, and none of Charlie, either. She’d looked hard, but there was nothing—not even a single button or cuff link that had rolled into a corner and been forgotten.
Before she left, she sat one last time on the porch swing. The bright blooms of the bougainvillea were fading, turning brown, and dropping to the sidewalk. She picked at a fleck of paint that was peeling from the railing.
She was exhausted from her day at Lost Paws: by the laundry duties, by tension with Ryan, and by her bizarre emotional outburst. The embarrassment of being a janitor (and—ugh—having to dress like one) wasn’t getting any easier to take. She was bitter that she had to crawl back to the apartment she’d shared with Gaby in order to get airtime, save money, and get Trevor off her back. And she was mad at herself for getting into a mess like this—a mess so big that, for the first time, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to dig her way out of it.
She flung the paint chip into the yard. (Three thousand a month and they couldn’t even paint the damn porch?) But … what if she were to come clean? What if Madison decided that it wasn’t worth it to protect Charlie, and she just up and told the truth?
For a moment, her spirits lifted. Life would return to normal!
But she quickly realized that if she did tell the truth, there was no way anyone would believe her. She’d have to convince Luxe to release the security footage of Charlie taking the earrings, and then she’d have to explain that Charlie took the necklace, too. And then Luxe would have to admit they lied to get publicity. And then Madison would probably be prosecuted for perjury. And then she’d get more community service—or maybe they’d send her to jail this time.
No, it would never work. Oh God, what an incredible mess she’d created....
She shook her head fiercely. Enough of the pity party. She stood up, checked the lock one last time, then strode down toward her car. She gave a final look into the mailbox and there, along with a cable bill and a mass mailing from a roofing company, was a postcard. The front was a picture of a tree silhouetted in the setting sun. The back was addressed to her.
Maddy, I never meant to hurt you. I will make it right, okay? Just give me a little time. Love, Dad .
Madison almost crumpled it up and tossed it into the street. But then, her heart
“I found it tied up in the backyard of a house no one lives in,” said the woman. “I can’t keep it—or him, or her, or whatever it is—but I couldn’t just leave it there, right?” She shifted nervously from foot to foot, as if the good people of Lost Paws weren’t going to take this thing off her hands. “I mean, it would starve.”
“It looks starving already,” said the twin.
It was maybe the ugliest animal Madison had ever seen. If a wolverine had mated with a dirty yarn mop, and the resulting baby had mated with a giant rat—well, this dog would be the end result.
No one wanted to touch it. Not even Stan, aka Forearms, who was the person Ryan called to pull plastic bags out of Tootsie the poodle’s behind after she got into the trash.
The skinny, trembling little dog gazed up at Madison. One sad, cloudy eye met hers; the other looked off to the side. As she watched, it whined, lay down at her feet, and licked, ever so hesitantly, the tip of her shoe.
And Madison burst into tears.
“What the—” breathed Ryan. “Are you kidding me? It’s just a little dog saliva. Your shoes will survive.”
But she was already running out the door.
A few hours later, Madison was standing in the living room of Charlie’s former bungalow, with the last suitcase of toiletries by her feet. The furniture, the rugs, the throw pillows, the lamps: All of it was gone, and the rooms suddenly looked small and dark and cold. Madison’s footsteps echoed on the gleaming oak floor as she made one final check around the house. There was no trace of her now, and none of Charlie, either. She’d looked hard, but there was nothing—not even a single button or cuff link that had rolled into a corner and been forgotten.
Before she left, she sat one last time on the porch swing. The bright blooms of the bougainvillea were fading, turning brown, and dropping to the sidewalk. She picked at a fleck of paint that was peeling from the railing.
She was exhausted from her day at Lost Paws: by the laundry duties, by tension with Ryan, and by her bizarre emotional outburst. The embarrassment of being a janitor (and—ugh—having to dress like one) wasn’t getting any easier to take. She was bitter that she had to crawl back to the apartment she’d shared with Gaby in order to get airtime, save money, and get Trevor off her back. And she was mad at herself for getting into a mess like this—a mess so big that, for the first time, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to dig her way out of it.
She flung the paint chip into the yard. (Three thousand a month and they couldn’t even paint the damn porch?) But … what if she were to come clean? What if Madison decided that it wasn’t worth it to protect Charlie, and she just up and told the truth?
For a moment, her spirits lifted. Life would return to normal!
But she quickly realized that if she did tell the truth, there was no way anyone would believe her. She’d have to convince Luxe to release the security footage of Charlie taking the earrings, and then she’d have to explain that Charlie took the necklace, too. And then Luxe would have to admit they lied to get publicity. And then Madison would probably be prosecuted for perjury. And then she’d get more community service—or maybe they’d send her to jail this time.
No, it would never work. Oh God, what an incredible mess she’d created....
She shook her head fiercely. Enough of the pity party. She stood up, checked the lock one last time, then strode down toward her car. She gave a final look into the mailbox and there, along with a cable bill and a mass mailing from a roofing company, was a postcard. The front was a picture of a tree silhouetted in the setting sun. The back was addressed to her.
Maddy, I never meant to hurt you. I will make it right, okay? Just give me a little time. Love, Dad .
Madison almost crumpled it up and tossed it into the street. But then, her heart
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