Clay's Hope (7 page)

She stepped back and slammed the door. Too
late, I realized I’d screwed up by openly showing my interest in
her. I wanted to yowl my frustration, but I kept quiet. We were
learning each other. We were bound to make mistakes. Patience. I
just needed patience.

When she reemerged wearing shorts and a
bitty top, she ignored me and marched out the back door. I followed
cautiously and watched her disappear into the garage. A minute
later, she pushed the lawn mower out.

She bent to check a few things and push a
button. I only gave what she did half my attention. The rest of my
focus remained on the curve of her backside.

She yanked back on a cord, and the mower
started with an annoying roar. Too soon, the air filled with its
stink. But the view of Gabby’s legs as she pushed the machine back
and forth made the smell endurable.

When she finished, she cast an annoyed
glance my direction. She didn’t like me eyeing her in her suit;
now, she didn’t like me watching her mow the lawn. What did she
expect me to do? Frustrated, I ducked into the house and took
another shower to cool off and to wash the exhaust from my
skin.

I dried myself, correctly draped the towel
over the edge of the tub, then opened the door a crack. Shifting to
my fur, I nudged the door open further and wandered out to look for
her.

She sat on the couch reading again. I padded
across the room and jumped up next to her. This time, I didn’t earn
a sniff. Disappointed, I settled in for another long, hungry
morning and afternoon.

She barely moved or acknowledged me the
entire time. The only highlight to the day was the end of it...and
the memory of her in her swimsuit. Yeah, that image wasn’t ever
going to leave me.

Gabby went to bed, and I waited again,
unsure of my welcome. But I found her door unlatched and sighed in
relief. How could I feel so hopeful and dejected at the same
time?

I hopped up on the bed and stared down at
her.

The need to touch her clawed at me. Quietly,
I shifted into my human skin and shivered slightly as I moved from
the end of the bed to lie beside her. Carefully, I eased myself
onto my side. I didn’t dare slide under the covers. Face to face, I
watched her sleep; ever so carefully, I brushed a fingertip along
her cheek. Her soft skin begged for more, but I withdrew my
hand.

She confused me and seemed cold at times,
but she was mine. Eventually, she’d come to terms with that.

I inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent,
and closed my eyes.

* * * *

A change in her breathing woke me. I quickly
shifted to my fur before she caught me in her bed without clothes
on. That wouldn’t end well for me.

Her eyes snapped open and locked onto
me.

“Now, just hold on,” she said. “You’re a
dog. Act like one. Fur stays at the foot of the bed.”

I pretended to mind as I moved to the end of
the bed, staring at her the whole time, but I didn’t. I was too
grateful she hadn’t caught me sleeping naked next to her.

“Don’t give me your doleful eyes. This is
your choice, not mine.”

Wait. Did that mean—

“Not that you’d get to sleep next to me in
your skin, either. So, don’t even think about it.”

We were starting to think alike, I thought
with a grin.

“If you don’t like the end of the bed, you
can always sleep on the floor.”

The floor? No. My spot was beside her. I
just needed to help her figure that out.

After she kicked me out so she could dress,
she joined me in the kitchen and spent a lot of time staring at the
newspaper. While she did that, I considered what I could do to help
her see me as her Mate. An unlocked door at night was a good start.
I wanted more than that. I wanted to be the one she talked to when
she was upset, the one she came to for comfort, the one to hold her
for the rest of her life—

She stood suddenly, jarring me from my
thoughts. When she moved to get her house key and her bag, I
quickly got to my feet and waited by the door.

She scowled down at me but I didn’t flinch
away from her gaze. I wore the degrading collar. She wouldn’t be
leaving without me. For good measure, I shook my neck to jingle my
tags.

Sighing, she reached for the leash and
clipped it on. I gloated. On the inside.

As soon as we were outside, she pulled a
phone from her pocket and dialed a number. I listened to her
conversation and found out she wanted to go see a car.

I agreed she needed one. That forty-minute
walk to those brick buildings, where she planned to take classes,
was too long for her to make each day. There were too many men
along the way. Plus, it would get colder. A car would help keep her
away from men and out of the cold.

Side by side, we made our way to the address
the man had given her. The place wasn’t hard to find. An old car
sat parked on the front lawn. Gabby paused on the sidewalk,
studying the vehicle. It wasn’t any worse than what I often saw at
the Compound.

“Hello,” a man called from the garage.

I swung my gaze to the man as he stepped out
and walked toward us. He seemed average height for a human. Middle
aged and carrying a bit of extra weight, as they tended to do. He
barely glanced at me as he approached. His fixated stare at Gabby
made my fur bristle.

“I’m Howard. You called about the car?”

“I did,” she said, and without giving her
name, she turned toward the car before he could offer his hand.
Smart girl.

I lingered, watching her back as she moved
away.

“It’s a decent car for the price,” he said,
moving past her and popping the hood. She peeked inside, and he
moved close to her. Too close.

I nudged him aside and jumped up, bracing my
paws on the front end. The man yipped like a startled pup but
backed away as I wanted. Ignoring him, I stared at the engine,
comparing what I saw to Sam’s truck. I nodded to myself. It looked
similar.

“I’ll take it,” Gabby said.

Just like that? She had too much trust in
people. He hadn’t even told her much about the car. It didn’t seem
to matter to her, though.

“Do you have the title ready to sign
over?”

“Sure. Let me run inside.”

A few minutes later, I contorted myself to
sit in the very cramped passenger seat as we drove away.

The car needed a good cleaning. It reeked of
stale smoke.

* * * *

The rest of the week followed a very similar
pattern. She read a lot, made a trip to purchase more books—I rode
along and dutifully waited in the car—then she started to read
those, too.

Some of the subjects were interesting.
Woman’s literature fascinated me. It wasn’t the context but the
concept. A whole class just about women’s books and the impact they
had on the world. Did they have a men’s literature?

Monday, when she grabbed her keys, I jumped
to follow her to the door.

“Your license only wins you so much freedom.
Dogs aren’t allowed on campus and definitely not in the
classroom.”

I growled. There was no way she was going to
that place full of men without me.

“Clay, I’m putting up with you in my house
and on my bed. Don’t push this.”

Her tone and scent had me backing off. I
wouldn’t push. A ride in the car would have been convenient, but I
could just as easily follow her on foot.

* * * *

I jumped onto the couch with a sigh and
flopped down. I now understood why humans hated Mondays. The campus
had been chaos, and following Gabby had been impossible. Security
had chased me off the grounds, then chased me again when I
returned.

I needed clothes, I needed to blend, and I
needed to shower before Gabby came home, which could be any time.
Her schedule remained a mystery to me. Lifting my head, I glanced
out the window. I hadn’t wanted to leave the campus yet, but wasn’t
given a choice. The last security guard had fired a pellet gun at
me.

A familiar car pulled into the driveway, and
I huffed a sigh. I’d forgotten about Rachel. So much for a
shower.

“Clay,” she called as soon as she opened the
door.

I stood and jogged to her just so she
wouldn’t keep yelling.

“Hey, bud! Look what I brought you.”

She opened her foam container and showed me
a half-eaten burger. It almost made up for her attempt to get Gabby
to go out with her. She set it on the floor, and I wolfed it down.
The bacon on the burger made me want to groan. I hadn’t eaten
anything since leaving the house.

“You sure are hungry.” She glanced at the
dish. “Don’t you like your food?”

Nope, but I’d have to remember to get rid of
it every now and again so Rachel wouldn’t worry about it.

“I wonder when Gabby’s coming home...” She
stepped to the fridge and lifted the top few layers of paper held
to the side by a magnetic clip.

“Today’s a late one.”

As I swallowed the last bite, I realized she
was looking at Gabby’s schedule. Rachel glanced at me.

“Stay home and hang out with you or go
out?”

Go out. Go out.

“What do you think?”

I turned my back to her, trotted to Gabby’s
room, and hopped up on the end of the bed, hopefully making it
clear I didn’t want to hang out with Rachel.

She peeked into the room and grinned at me.
“I don’t get why you like her so much. She doesn’t feed you good
stuff like I do. Better remember that.”

She didn’t seem mad or offended by my
preference. Only amused. She went to her room, and I listened to
her change. The woman rarely closed her door.

A few minutes later, I heard her leave her
room and walk to the kitchen.

“Clay. Come on, Clay. Time to go out.”

The indignities I suffered. I hopped off the
bed and dutifully went outside. She watched me through the door
this time. Who watched like that? I strode behind the shed, stood
there for a suitable amount of time, then returned to the yard. She
opened the door as soon as she saw me.

“You’re such a good boy,” she said,
scratching my head. “I’ll bring you a treat when I come home.”

I wouldn’t lie to myself. The food treats
tempted me.

As soon as her car pulled out of the
driveway, I shifted to my skin and looked at Gabby’s schedule. She
wouldn’t be home for a while yet.

With a sigh, I went to take a quick shower,
then waited for her on the couch.

* * * *

Just before I grew bored enough to start
chewing on the table legs, I heard her car in the driveway. I
hopped off the couch and hurried to the back door. Seeing her again
made my chest ache. How could I miss someone I didn’t understand or
know?

She didn’t acknowledge me when she stepped
inside. She let her bag drop to the floor with a thump and moved to
the fridge.

“I’m starving.” She wasn’t talking to me,
but herself.

I stayed out of her way as she moved about,
grabbing what she needed to make two sandwiches. She absently
handed me one when she finished and stuck hers in her mouth,
freeing her hands so she could carry her bag to her room. I quickly
chomped my food down before she made it to the arch and followed
her. Did she even realize I was here?

I wasn’t expecting her to feel the way I
did, but her complete indifference hurt.

In her room, she tiredly kicked off her
shoes and set her bag on the mattress. She took a bite of her
sandwich with one hand and started to read one of her books. Her
gaze didn’t leave the pages as she eased onto the bed and curled
her legs under her, getting comfortable.

Hopping up on the bed, I joined her. She
didn’t flinch at all as I curled up beside her. In fact, she didn’t
do anything but read for a long time.

Eventually, she started to yawn.

“Come on, Clay. Out. I need to change.” A
yawn punctuated her request.

Suppressing a sigh, I hopped off the bed and
left the room. When she opened the door again, I waited until I
heard her get into bed before joining her. The soft rhythm of her
breathing changed within minutes, letting me know she slept.

The next day followed the same routine. She
woke, kicked me out, and left for class. I followed her to campus
to make sure the piece of junk car didn’t break down on the way,
then went home to wait for her.

I was beginning to see why other people had
made decisions for her. Her choice to go to college didn’t seem
like a smart one. It was boring as hell. But, I was near her, and
if reading all the time made her happy...I sighed. I would just
need to accept it.

Though I would have rather held her
attention, I didn’t mind watching her read. Observing her, I began
to learn her body language. When she read something that confused
her, she chewed her lip. When she read something interesting, she
wrote it down. When she doubted what she read, she pulled out
another book to see what that said. She often became so engrossed
she forgot to drink anything at night; and she always studied until
she yawned for the third time.

My time alone in the house was much harder
to endure. I chafed at the situation, wishing I knew what to do to
integrate myself into her life. Desperation drove me to pick up one
of her textbooks. Maybe understanding what she read would give me
insight into why she read it and her life. Instead, I quickly
discovered why she went to bed after the third yawn.

Once I grew tired, the words tended to swim
around in my head and made very little sense. I managed two
chapters of biology before I closed that book and moved on to a
different one. I picked at random from her dresser.

When she came home that night, she tossed me
a sandwich, like she had the night before, and went to her room.
She seemed to notice I’d moved her books around. I watched her
study them, wondering if I’d upset her. She didn’t say anything,
though, just picked one up and started reading.