Flirting with Love (24 page)

He was pondering Elisabeth’s situation and examining his last patient, a five-year-old cat, before leaving for Denton. When he finished, he went to his office to think.

His office window had a serene view of the mountains. Diplomas hung proudly on the opposite wall, and behind his desk was a row of bookshelves with veterinary medicine and animal books he’d read and collected throughout the years. There was a single framed picture on his desk of his family. It had been taken a few years earlier over the holidays. He and Pierce had their arms over each other’s shoulders. Emily was pressed against his other side, one hand around his back, the other around Wes, and beside Wes, Luke and Jake had each other in choke holds. Ross smiled at the memory.

He sat down, and something crinkled beneath his butt. He found an envelope with his first name written on the front in Elisabeth’s handwriting. He loved that she left him notes in his truck, on the counters, taped to the bathroom mirror. He wondered when she’d had time to bring this one by. He opened the envelope and read the note.
Picnic under the stars tonight with the boys? XO, Lis
.

He texted Elisabeth.
Picnic sounds perfect. Running late today. I’ll come over after I get back from Denton. How are things with Jade?
He hit send, then sent another quick message.
Xox.

He felt
xox
all the time for Elisabeth, but remembering to type it into a phone was another thing altogether.

He looked at the stack of client files on his desk and another stack of pet food and supply distributors, and slowly, an idea formed. Ross called Walt at the prison and told him he’d be a little late for the training session. He typed a quick memo to the distributors and emailed it to Kelsey, then grabbed his keys and headed for the lobby.

“How’s your grandfather holding up?” He stood by the reception desk while Kelsey checked off their inventory on the computer.

“He misses Gracie, but at least he’s not barring himself off from the world like he did after Grandma died. He’s even talking about getting another dog at some point.”

“Good. That’s a good sign. Kelsey, I need you to do me a favor. I typed a memo that I’d like distributed to our suppliers today.”

Kelsey continued working on the inventory, her eyes trained on the computer. “Okay. Can I do it after I’m done with this? Probably late today or tomorrow morning?”

“I’d rather it went out sooner than later. It’s time sensitive.”

She eyed him as she saved her work and opened the email. Ross wasn’t usually so demanding, and he wasn’t surprised by the curious way she eyed him before scanning the memo. “You’re inviting them all to the fair and telling them about Elisabeth’s grooming services? They’re suppliers. What makes you think they’ll come?”

“They’re pet owners. They love their pets. What makes you think they won’t?” He smiled and walked out the door. It was a start.

On the way to Denton he stopped at Tate McGregor’s shop to make sure things were taken care of with Elisabeth’s aunt’s van.

He was walking into the prison an hour later when a text from Elisabeth came through.
Going great with Jade. Miss you. Love up Storm for me. Xox.

Trout seemed distracted during the training session. His muscles were tense, and his eyes remained hard, unwilling to meet Ross’s gaze. Luckily, Storm was as relaxed as could be, following every command and watching Trout as attentively as Ross expected with the service dogs.

After training, they sat on the bench for a few minutes while Storm was set free to play.

“He’s doing great, Trout. You’ve really done an excellent job with him.”

“Mm-hm.” Trout circled a fisted hand with his palm. “Toy helped.”

“Well, whatever it takes, right?”

Trout turned cold, hard eyes toward Ross. Ross imagined that was probably about the look the man he’d killed had seen just before Trout did him in. Every hair on his body stood on end.

“I’ve got a problem, Doc.”

“Let me hear it.” At least he wasn’t throttling Ross’s throat.

“I can train him, but I can’t keep him safe once he’s outta here.” Trout shifted his eyes back to Storm, who was playing with a ball in the center of the room. “Who’s gonna keep him safe?”

“That’ll be his new owner’s job.” Seeing Trout so concerned over Storm was a good feeling, even if his worry translated into a disturbing look.

Trout shook his head and locked his eyes on his hands. “Safety is an illusion.”

Ross sensed that they were no longer talking about Storm. “I guess to some degree you’re right.”

“That’s why there’s bars, doc.” He tilted his face, setting a cold stare on Ross again. “Put danger behind bars, the good ones have a better chance.”

Ross leaned forward, elbows on knees, bringing him to the same angle as Trout. Even though Trout hadn’t given Ross any reason to fear his strength, Ross had a feeling this was a dangerous dance they were doing, and he let Trout lead. “I suppose.”

“You got family?” Trout asked.

It was the jagged line Ross knew better than to cross, and yet he saw it as a way to gain some answers. “Sure.”

“I had family once.”

“Yes. I know about your mother, and I’m sorry.” Ross’s muscles clenched just thinking about what the thought of his mother must do to Trout.

“Brother, too.”

That brought Ross’s eyes to Trout’s. “I think I read about him. He was given up for a private adoption at birth, right?”

Trout nodded. “And not all there in the head.”

“You knew him, then?” Ross hadn’t read anything about a relationship between the two boys in any of the records.

“My mother made sure of it, but no one else knew. She’d take me to the park with my dog near where my brother lived. ’Bout an hour from where we lived.” Trout paused and looked away, his eyes going soft when they landed on Storm.

Ross dared not talk. He didn’t want to break the spell of whatever had Trout suddenly opening up.

“We were friends. He knew me as Mike. My mother was a smart lady. She knew if he knew my name, she’d be caught by whoever monitors those private adoptions. This way I was just another kid at the playground.” He brought his eyes back to Ross. “Sometimes, you gotta do what you think is right, not what everyone else thinks you should do. That’s what my mama did. Blood is blood. Never forget that, Doc. Stronger than concrete.”

Ross nodded, barely breathing for where this conversation was heading. “He knew your mother, then?”

Trout shook his head. “No. It wasn’t like that. He had an image of her in his head, of how great she was to have given him up for a better life.” He nodded and flashed those dimples again. “He was right. She was great.”

“Trout, where’s your brother now?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t seen him since the day before…it all went down.” Trout turned his head and looked up at Ross. “I know you’re wantin’ to know what’s what. I see it in your eyes. I ain’t dumb, Doc, just because I’m in here, or because I choose not to talk to these guys.”

“Valedictorians rarely are.” Ross sat up straight. He no longer felt threatened by Trout, and he wasn’t sure why, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that Trout was finally opening up and talking to him like anyone else might, making it easier for Ross to see him as something more than just a convicted killer.

Trout let out a breath, half laugh, half grunt, and sat up, too. “His adoptive mother told him his mother was killed. Stupid bitch. He didn’t need to know that. He lived in a fantasyland half the time. He could have continued on just fine if…”

He met Ross’s gaze. “If I didn’t do it, my brother would have, and he wouldn’t have survived in here. Spent ten years tryin’ to convince him not to, but as I said. He wasn’t right. He was obsessed with taking revenge for her death. Once his adoptive mother told him our mother had died, a fucking few clicks later on the Internet told him everything else he wanted to know. He was like a dog with a bone, rattling on and on about how he figured out Carver had killed her and all kinds of shit. By then I had so much anger in me, so much hatred, I wasn’t safe either. When I realized I could actually go through with it and kill a man so my brother didn’t, I knew something was wrong with me.”

Holy hell. He’d killed the man to save his brother from a life in prison. “Trout, aren’t you concerned that your brother might hurt someone else?”

He shook his head. “He ain’t like that. He’s moved on to healthier obsessions. This was a blip on his damaged mind. A ten-year blip that’s been washed away. Got a friend on the outside who checks on him, but I told him not to tell me where he is. I don’t want him getting wind of what I done. He knows that Carver’s dead, and my brother’s at peace now. Let it stay that way.”

“But you had a promising future, and you killed a man and gave up that future in order to keep your brother from doing the same? Why? Why go so far?”

“Why go so far? As I said, when I realized that I was
capable
, actually willing and able to go through with killing Carver—and make no doubt, I knew I was going to do it—I knew I needed to be behind bars. I wasn’t safe out there. I had become Carver. For whatever fucked-up reason, I’ve got a good brain—and a broken one. You’ve got to be broken to do what I did. What I planned and carried out. I wasn’t drunk, or high, or off my rocker in any other way. I made a choice to kill.”

Ross could hardly believe what he was hearing—the confession or the plethora of information Trout was willingly sharing. “I can’t imagine deciding to give everything up, but then again, I can’t imagine knowing I was going to walk out the door and kill a man.”

“That’s because you’re not fucked up. You got blessed with the good brain and not the broken one.” Trout smiled a little; then his face grew serious again. “What’d I really give up? So I’ll never cure cancer or build a robot. Kid dreams, Doc. I got a roof over my head, books to read. Know why I waited until I was eighteen to do it?”

Ross shook his head.

“To make sure I was tried as an adult and would have no chance of getting out. Doc, if you can kill a man, you ain’t right. I just got lucky in the brains department, but something’s gotta be off to do that. Who knows how many people I kept safe.” With a shrug, Trout rose to his feet.

Ross followed. “Trout.” He didn’t know what to say. The man was as much a hero—for seeing the danger he presented to the world and for stepping in to do what his brother might have if he didn’t—as he was a criminal.

“Sometimes you gotta listen to that beatin’ lump of meat pumping blood in your chest, and you gotta do what you think’s right, when everything you’ve ever been taught tells you otherwise. You gotta let go of what you love so you can move forward knowing that despite it all, you helped someone else live the life they were meant to live. Yeah, I killed a man. A man who killed my mother, my dog, and who probably would have killed my brother had his sorry, demented ass ever tried to get revenge. I’m not proud of it, but when I found the asshole, you know what he had?”

Ross arched a brow, still stunned by the depth of Trout’s confession.

“My mother’s ring on his pinky, my dog’s collar hanging on the wall like a trophy. Ten years, Doc. Ten years later, he’s still got that shit.” He turned away, and when he turned back, his eyes were stone cold again.

“Trout, why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, Doc. You’re the only person who’s seen through my big-ass silence. You didn’t shut up or give me a wide berth like everyone else does. You trusted me with Storm, and you had no idea if I’d throttle him, or you, to death. You trusted me. I trust you with my secret.” Trout patted his leg. “Storm. Come.”

Storm came to his side and sat, his eyes trained on Trout. “Good boy.”

Ross watched him walk away and then caught up to him. “Trout, I gotta know. Why’d you ask to be in the program?”

He shrugged. “Selfish, I guess. I’m only human. I need to give and receive love.” Trout leaned in closer to Ross. “And no matter how long I’m in this shithole, I ain’t gonna do what some of these guys do to fill that need.” He rose to his full height again and gazed down at Storm. “Raisin’ a dog’s the closest thing I got to raisin’ a boy. Storm loves me no matter what I’ve done in my past.”

Ross didn’t even know how to respond. Was Trout brilliant or an idiot? Ross couldn’t make that call any better than Walt could have.

“Oh, Doc. One more thing. I got a rep to uphold.”

Ross smiled at that. “You’re a silent bastard who’ll rip someone’s throat out if they look at you sideways. I’ve got your back.”

Trout’s eyes softened, as did the tension around his mouth and across his forehead, and just as quickly as it had appeared, all that softness fell away, replaced with a cold, deadpan stare. He rounded his shoulders and headed for the door, and Ross headed home to Elisabeth, feeling as though he’d learned something about life and love—and how even when he had all the facts, there was no black and white.

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON PASSED in a flurry of baking, delivering, and planning. Elisabeth was flying high from both her romantic picnic with Ross the evening before and the great afternoon she’d had with Jade. Three of Jade’s clients had already called to schedule grooming and massage appointments for their animals, and now all Elisabeth had to do was come up with a schedule to accommodate the baking
and
the pet pampering. One thing was clear, being a doggy chauffeur was proving to be a big time suck, no matter how much she didn’t mind the driving, or how much she loved the time with the dogs.

Her phone rang, pulling her from the kitchen table where she was working on devising a schedule. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw Ross’s name on the screen.

“Hi.” Why did she always sound breathless when she spoke to him? After their picnic by the lake, they’d spent the night at his house again, and already they were in a routine of taking care of the animals together in the mornings, having breakfast together, and her favorite part of the day, falling asleep in his arms.

“Hey, babe. Just wanted to see how your day was going.”

“I woke up with you. How could it be anything but great?”