Page 31 of The Best Friend Problem
Late in the night they’d gotten a call for a five-car pile-up near the Cherry Creek Mall. Three cars completely totaled, six people sent to the hospital with broken bones, concussions, lacerations, and one poor soul headed to the morgue. Sadly, there hadn’t even been a chance to save the woman. She’d died on impact.
Damn. Sometimes he hated his job. When he couldn’t help.
A sharp bark caused him to glance down and see Bruiser sitting at his feet, head tilted in that way she looked at him when she sensed his unease. Her tiny paw scraping his foot like a little doggo pat.
“Hey, Bru Baby.” Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms, allowing her to attack his face with sweet puppy kisses. “How do you always know when I need love? Such a smart girl.”
He’d never understand people who didn’t like dogs. His fur baby was the best. On days like today, when he just felt so helpless and raw, her unconditional love and instinctive understanding made the pain a little easier to process.
His cell pinged with an incoming text message.
P: You off today?
The darkness faded even more as he read the question from Pru.
F: Yup. Just got off a few hours ago. Wanna hang?
Over the past few weeks things between him and Pru had been…off. They’d been texting, hung out a few times. But there had been no discussion of their night together. They both avoided bringing up the topic, and at times he felt like he was walking on eggshells around Pru. He didn’t like it. One of the things he cherished most about their relationship was their ability to talk openly and honestly about anything. But their drunken one-night stand was apparently something they were brushing under the rug to pretend as if it never happened.
He refused to examine why that thought caused a little ping of sadness to hit him square in the gut.
His eyes focused on the three little dots, indicating she was typing, for what seemed like forever.
“Gee, Pru, composing an essay?”
Bruiser barked in his arms at the mention of her other favorite human. He waited, wondering what long and complex message his friend could be sending his way. Then the text finally came through.
P: Yeah.
Huh. Maybe there’d been a connection error or something.
His thumb flew over the screen as Bruiser settled into the crook of his left arm.
F: Grab dinner at Benny’s?
Her response came much faster this time.
P: How about I grab takeout and bring it over after I finish up some work stuff? Around six?
Worked for him. Though he was feeling better, he still wasn’t in the emotional state to be around a huge, noisy crowd of people. It always took him a little bit to recover from a fatality scene.
F: Sounds good. See u then.
P: Later.
Finn spent the next few hours making sure the place was picked up—which took all of thirty minutes in the tiny space—taking Bruiser out to the dog run down the street for some playtime and then hitting the shower. He’d just finished getting dressed when a soft knock sounded on his front door.
Bruiser went crazy, barking like a dog possessed.
“Calm down, Bru.”
The pup didn’t listen, instead increasing her yips as he opened the door to reveal Pru holding a sack from which mouthwatering smells of cheese and spices emanated.
“Did you get me enchiladas?”
“Yup. And the steak fajitas.”
His stomach growled in anticipation of the best Mexican food Denver had to offer.
