Page 55 of Unleashed

But since Mariah came into his life, bringing along their twins for the ride, that’s changed. He’s no longer always online, or forgoing sleep in favor of endlessly staring at his computer. I’m happy for him. Glad he was able to find the sort of happiness that was ripped from him at such an early age.

The sort of happiness I’ve never even come close to possessing.

I thought that meant I wouldn’t want it. That since I’d never had a taste of what it could be like, I’d never crave a bite of my own.

I was clearly wrong. So wrong, I’m spending yet another night sitting in my car, barely dozing, as I watch over Maren and Zara.

I decide not to respond to Titus’s final text. I don’t know what I would say anyway. Instead, I open the browser and look up the animal Zara requested. I assumed it was something cute and cuddly and furry, with big eyes and a fluffy tail. At least, that’s what I figured most little girls would find so adorably cute they’d want one.

I was wrong.

It looks like a giant groundhog with resting bitch face.

The semi-aquatic rodent isn’t ugly, but it’s also not the kind of thing I’d imagine Zara would want to snuggle up on the couch with. It’s also not cut out for Wyoming winters, so I’m not seeing one in Maren’s little sister’s future.

Miniature cows on the other hand…

By the time my lids start to get heavy, I’ve found a handful of breeders within driving distance who sell the shaggy, stupidly cute animals. Makes sense why Titus offered to get one for Mariah.

Rubbing my burning eyes, I set my phone on the console and tilt back the seat, staying just upright enough I still have a line of sight to Maren’s trailer.

I’m just drifting off when the chime alerting me to movement outside has me jerking awake, blinking hard as I try to clear the haze of sleep from my eyes. I lean forward, peering across the distance between us until I find the culprit. A man is walking his dog, and the mutt decided Maren’s front yard was the perfect place to drop a load.

I watch, glaring in anticipation as I wait for the animal to finish. If that asshole doesn’t clean up his dog’s mess, I swear to God⁠—

The pup finishes and the guy pulls out a baggie. Crouching, he scoops up the shit and ties off the opening, carrying it with him as they continue on.

Good. I’m relatively comfortable and would have been pissed as hell if I had to leave the warmth of my vehicle to kick someone’s ass in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, even though no ass-kicking was required, I’m still amped up and can’t fall back asleep, so I grab my phone and start scrolling.

This time in search of a place to order dinner from tomorrow.

“Seriously?” Maren looks at the bag clutched in my hands, brows lifting as her eyes come to my face. “You know she would have gone apeshit over chicken nuggets and fries, right?”

I smile. “Who says there aren’t fries in here?”

I get that bringing food from the nicest steakhouse in the area might be a little much, but I’m willing to bet every penny I have Maren would never splurge on something like this. And while beans on toast was shockingly delicious—and something I will be eating again—tonight, we’re getting a little fancier.

I pass Maren as she continues frowning, carrying the giant shopping bag holding our dinners to the small table where Zara is already parked, surrounded by piles of thread and beads.

I look over the mess, trying to make sense of what she’s doing. “Are you sewing?”

Zara cackles like I’m a fucking idiot who just said the dumbest thing she’s ever heard. “No, silly. I’m making bracelets for my friends at school.”

“Really?” I set the bag down, my eyes catching on a collection of beads twisted together into a small circle. “You can make bracelets?”

I don’t have any experience with kids outside of the twins—who aren’t even a year old yet—and Birdie, who’s not quite two. While Birdie can talk and says more and more words every day, she’s not to the point where she can construct anything on her own.

Besides a shit that will peel the paint off the walls.

“What else can you make?” I separate the sides of the bag, popping the brown paper loose from the staples sealing in the heat.

“I can paint and draw, and Maren said if I don’t get in trouble for talking at school again, she’ll get me a pottery wheel.” Zara is so excited about the possibility, she’s bouncing in her seat.

“A pottery wheel?” I glance at Maren as she comes to stand beside me, looking over everything I’m pulling from the bag. “Aren’t those pretty big?”

“She just wants one of the little ones they sell as a kit.” Maren pops open the lid of a container marked with S/A Dip. She gasps a little at the sight of a perfectly baked portion of spinach and artichoke dip. “You got an appetizer too?”