Page 6 of Lucky Mother Pucker

When I think about how quickly he charmed my mom, how fast she fell for him, and then married him, I feel sick to my stomach. He’s the reason she’s dead.

And when I think about what he did to me after she died…how he kicked me out of my own house…how he dropped Wally off at the pound to be euthanized, I want to vomit. I want to rage. I want to scream until my lungs collapse. I want to punch a hole through the nearest wall.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding and aching all at once. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the photo I’ve looked at a million times. It’s the background of my phone screen too.

It’s a picture of me, my dad, my mom, and Wally as a puppy, sitting in front of the Christmas tree, smiling and laughing. Our first Christmas with Wally. When everything was perfect.

A sob catches in my throat. I don’t even have the original photo. This is just a picture I took of the framed photo, which is still at my house. The house my stepdad is living in and kicked me out of two years ago, after my mom died.

That picture is still there, along with all the other photos of my family that he didn’t let me take when he kicked me out. My mom’s belongings are there too. So are my dad’s.

And I’ll never get them back, ever. Not after the way my stepdad made sure to cut me off.

Wally tugs on his leash, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. He watches a bird fly over us, then jumps to try and catch it.

A sad smile pulls at my lips. I lean down and pet him. “Nice try, buddy.”

I kiss the top of his head, my heart aching. He’s all I’ve got now.

I walk him for an hour before we head back to the shelter. We’re headed down the hallway back to the kennel when one of the vet techs stops me.

I wave at her. “Hi, Amy.”

“Hi, Lucy.” She gives Wally a scratch behind his ears. “Wally, buddy, did you have a good walk?” She looks at me like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s just been a busy day.” She clears her throat. “So how’s the apartment hunting going?”

I try to smile, hoping my expression doesn’t look too strained. “It’s going okay. I’ve got a few places lined up to look at soon,” I lie.

Amy and the rest of the staff here at the animal rescue have been so kind to let Wally stay in their kennel these past few months. I’ve already paid his adoption fee, but I can’t take him with me yet because I still need to find a place to live.

She sighs like she’s relieved. “How soon do you think you’d be able to take Wally home?”

“Um, I’m not sure. Why?”

Her expression turns concerned. “We’re running into a bit of an issue. I’m sure you know how crowded the rescue can get. There are always dogs and puppies being dropped off here. We need to free up the space to accommodate them. Which means Wally will need to go soon.”

My stomach sinks. “Oh…”

She gives my arm an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t mean to stress you out about this. I know you’re in between places at the moment, but the sooner you can move into an apartment, the better it will be.”

“Right. Of course.” I try not to sound too panicked. “Um, how much time do I have?”

“I’d say about a month, max.”

Dread slices through me. One month to earn enough money to put a deposit on an apartment? Shit.

My mind races to think of a quick fix, but I come up with nothing. Because I’ve tried everything. I can’t live with him in my car. I did that before, and I got in trouble with the city. Someone reported me for sleeping at a parking lot one night with him, and when the police came to ticket me, they told me I needed to find a home for Wally; otherwise, I’d be arrested for animal endangerment. That’s when I showed up at the shelter, begging them to take Wally. I paid his adoption fee ahead of time, then promised to come get him when I had my own place.

That was months ago.

I swallow through the urge to cry. “Okay, so I need to get him out of here in a month?”

“Yeah. Sooner if possible, but I was able to talk the veterinarians on staff into making it a month,” Amy says. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been wonderful.”