Page 54 of Love You To Pieces

Inside yourself for your father,

All is none, all is none, all is one.

The words come back to me, even though I’ve only heard them once. Somehow, they’re stuck in my head, playing there like an old, poorly tuned radio in Fox’s soft, sweet voice. I feel like they barely make any sense, but then again, I’m not sure the person who wrote the song in the first place had an extra helping of sense either.

I wonder, suddenly, just how Fox learned it. And why. Sure, I bet I could look up the song on google if I had my phone⁠—

That thought makes all of my pondering grind to an unpleasant halt.

Not one person has called, texted, or left a message.

When those words echo in my head, I suddenly wish the song was there instead.

Not one person has called, texted, or left a message.

Not one person has called⁠—

Not one person.

Something inside me twists violently, and it feels like my ribs are cracking as they try to contain the hurt feelings inside of me. My fingers clench against the edge of the table, tears burning in my eyes. No one knows where I am.

But worse?

No one cares.

I’m on my feet before I can think about it, and my stiff legs take me to the back door. I barely register my shoes sitting on the porch, looking cleaner than I remember but still rather unfortunate, before I’m in the grass and heading toward where Pearl is enjoying a bowl of meat that I refuse to identify.

“Well, at least one of us is enjoying their time here,” I whisper, sliding down to sit against the side of the house, well away from her. While I love this dog more than I’ve ever loved an animal before, I don’t know her well enough to trust she won’t gnaw my arm off if I try to pet her while she’s eating.

The Rottweiler mix glances up at me, licking scraps off her muzzle, and for a moment I have the distinct thought that she’s calling me a liar.

“That doesn’t count,” I tell her, looking away as thoughts of last night flicker through my brain. The ache in my body is nothing if not pleasurable, and I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it.

Fuck, I really enjoyed it. Both of them, their differences and their similarities. The way they⁠—

No. Bad Sadie. I force myself to stop thinking about last night. It’s a dangerous line of thought and one that won’t get me through that back gate.

But what if they don’t want to kill you? A traitorous voice whispers in the back of my mind. What if they really do just want to keep you? Would that be so bad?

It would be, I promise. It would absolutely be awful and unimaginable.

I just…can’t figure out why right now.

Not one person has called, texted, or left a message⁠—

“Fuck!” I thump my head back against the house’s whitewashed siding, eyes closing hard. “Fuck, I cannot go down this path, Pearl. I just can’t. I have a plan.” Not that I’m about to spill that plan out in the open when I don’t know who’s listening. “I have a plan, a goal, a dream. Whatever. I know what I’m doing.” I have to know what I’m doing, because if I don’t?

Then I really will start believing that staying wouldn’t be such an awful idea.

A wet nose on my arm startles me out of my cloudy thoughts, and I open my eyes to find Pearl done with her breakfast and standing in front of me with her poorly docked tail wagging. She waits for me to notice, then shoves her face against me, a low, belligerent groan leaving her until I reach up with one hand to scratch her uninjured ear. “You’re such a good girl,” I whisper. “But you know that, don’t you?” When she moves to lick me, I pull away, grimacing. “Okay, yes, I love you and all, but you just ate people meat, I think. So I’d like it if you maybe didn’t lick my face.”

She persists, however, and before I can get away again, her wet tongue laps up my cheek, sending a tremor of disgust through my body as my face scrunches up with dislike. “Oh, yep, there it is. Yeah, that smells awful,” I gasp. “Thank you so much for that. I really wanted to smell like your breakfast. Fuck.” The smell fades, thank God, and within a few seconds, she’s flopped over on the ground, belly up for more love and attention.

Footsteps on the back porch—the telltale sound of Fox’s boots—wake me from my doze, and with a start, I realize that it’s late afternoon. Have I really slept the whole damn afternoon away?

Well, no, I remind myself groggily. I steered clear of Fox, which had been easy since he was on the phone so much this morning and in the upstairs office. Every time I went back inside, I heard his boots pacing above me. And I gave Pearl a bunch of love, though definitely not as much as a dog of her caliber is entitled to by law.

The sheriff stands over me as I blink blearily up at him, my eyes gritty from sleep and the heat. “Hi,” I croak, confused enough to just stare at him.