AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His grin grows as he does it again. “This?”
“Yeah.”
“It means I love you. My mom taught it to me. Told me it’s Hawaiian or something.”
I copy his gesture, excited to learn something new. He cheers me on. “You got it!”
Later that night, my mom was putting me to bed, and I was ready. She gives me a hug and a kiss on the check and says, “I love you.”
I flip my middle finger up, smiling wide.
“Kali!” she exclaims, forcing my finger down. “Why would you do that?”
With wide eyes, surprised at her reaction, I whisper, “It means I love you in Hawaiian.”
Her laughter erupts around the room, and she falls back on the bed in hysterics. “Who told you that?”
“Jimmy.”
She shakes her head, cheeks red from laughter. “Sweetheart, that does not mean I love you. It’s more like I hate you.”
I gasp. Jimmy lied to me.
I can’t believe I’m smiling. Keep going. I channel all my energy into staying in the past, my eyes growing heavy by the time I hit thirty. With a sense of resignation, I allow myself to drift asleep.
CHAPTER 9
Paxton
The swing groans with each sway, its mournful echoing piercing my eardrums, distracting me from anything but the whereabouts of the damn WD-40. I’d bet it’s still in the garage next to the four-wheeler. That’s the last place I remember using it.
I drag my foot to halt the painful squeal and slide my hat back on.
“Does that grate on your nerves as much as mine?” I ask Riggs, lounging on the porch, before I push off to fetch the spray. When I return, he’s sprawled on his back, undisturbed, and blissfully showing off his manly parts.
I fiddle with the chains, lubricating and adjusting the swing until its high-pitched screech dissolves into silence. Well, now that I’m up, what else is squeaking? I open the screen door, and a tiny noise slips out, so I spray it. On a mission now, I go through the house and test every door.
A tap on the screen door interrupts me as I’ve moved on to caulking around the new cabinets. So much for a relaxing weekend. I peek my head out from the kitchen, knowing it’s one of the neighbors. If it was someone unfamiliar, Riggs would’ve let me know.
Mrs. Dayton waves excitedly. She owns the ten acres adjacent to mine and lost her husband recently, so I’ve lent a hand around the place. She reminds me so much of Grams.
“Come on in, Mrs. Dayton,” I call out.
She comes in holding a cake, Riggs trailing close behind. It’s an odd shape that I can’t make out. I set down the caulking gun and rinse my hands. She slides it on the counter and claps once. “It’s Riggs’s birthday, and I wanted to make him something special.”
It is?
I tilt my head, staring at the bone-shaped cake. Do I even know when his birthday is? She’s old, but every time I’ve been around her, she’s sharp as a tack, so I don’t think she’s confusing him with another dog. But it’s possible.
“Well, not his actual birthday. But his gotcha day birthday. It was three years ago this weekend,” she adds.
How does she remember that?
Riggs sniffs the cake. Yeah, buddy, someone remembers important dates. Your partner sucks, I guess.
“Did you forget?” she asks with a hint of disappointment, sensing my confusion.
I rub my beard. Were all my exes right? Is this why they called me a self-absorbed asshole? I think back to when I got him. I remember the day. It was in April. We had been working together for months, training. Graduation was one of the most important days of my life. I put more effort into this dog than I ever did in college.
