Maria gave her a nod. “I suppose you’ll have to see it at some point. For today, just observe. This is the rough part, Cora, so if you’re not sure . . .”
“I am.” Inside the clinic’s exam room, Cora found out exactly what Maria meant, and realized she wasn’t as prepared as she thought. Then again, how could anyone prepare for this? “Oh, God,” she whispered, hands going to her mouth.
“Dear Lord,” Maria said.
“I’ve got him sedated,” Dr. Josh said, frustration rolling off him as he pushed glasses up on his nose. One of the vet techs coolly cleaned and bandaged numerous wounds covering a tan-and-white pit bull’s body. “But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is the face of dogfighting right here. When is this going to end?”
Dogfighting? Someone had made one dog do this to another? For . . . for fun? “How can he breathe?” Cora asked, tears squeezing her throat. Because it appeared that the dog’s nose had largely been torn off, along with part of his cheek. Even sedated, he made a labored, wet, rasping sound with each breath. Those injuries were the worst, but not the only ones. Cuts and bites covered his muscled body.
Dr. Josh frowned. “He’s struggling. I’ve called in Dr. Lisa to help with an emergency surgery.”
Maria shook her head. “Can he be saved?”
“Time will tell,” the doc said. “But I think this is a case for Noah’s Arks. See if they’re up for a transport if he makes it.”
“I’ll call them right away,” Maria said. “And the police, too. At some point, they have to start giving this more of a priority.”
“Who is Noah’s Arks?” Cora asked as Maria nodded.
She gave Cora a sad look. “A rescue down south that specializes in caring for and rehabilitating abused and neglected animals. This guy’s bad enough off that he needs them.”
Cora had to leave just as the docs were taking their newest patient into the operating room, and she felt like she was leaving her heart behind at the shelter the whole way home. Not even driving her new red baby gave her any pleasure. She was a watery, wobbly mess all night, and finally had to retreat to her room after dinner.
Sitting on her bed, she hugged a pillow to her chest. And burst into tears. Sadness rolled through her until she sagged sideways onto the bed, her knees drawn up, her tears rolling over the bridge of her nose and wetting her comforter. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel this bad, and maybe it was a stretch to identify with an animal, but it just hurt to see another living thing used, discarded, and in so much pain.
Cora knew too well what that was like.
Voices reached her from the hallway, but she couldn’t do anything to rein herself in. And then her door was opening and Slider was there, his face a storm of concern. He closed himself in and went to his knees beside the bed, lining up his ruggedly handsome face with hers. “What’s wrong, Cora? What happened?”
She shook her head, unable to talk even as she tried to make her tears stop.
“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.”
“S-sorry,” she managed. “Just . . . this dog . . .” Trying to explain made her cry harder again.
Slider wrapped himself around her, his forehead against hers, his arm around her shoulder. She pulled him closer, needing his touch, needing his comfort, needing him.
Eyes still flooding, Cora heaved a deep breath, then another, until her breaths were shuddering but becoming more even. But her eyes wouldn’t stop leaking. Damnit.
“Come here,” Slider said, his voice full of grit. He pulled her off the bed and into his lap there on the floor of her bedroom.
Cora wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just being stupid,” she said.
“No way,” he said. “Big hearts are bound to get bruised, Cora, and yours is the biggest I’ve ever seen.”
Annnd now she was crying again. She laid her head on his shoulder, her face pressed to his neck, and cried herself out until she was limp and exhausted. He rubbed her back and stroked her hair the whole time, just holding her and being there for her. And, man, that would’ve been enough. But it was the little kiss against her hair that had her too-big heart feeling entirely too full for her chest.
For being wrecked, broken, and more than a little lost, Slider Evans had a well of sweetness so deep that Cora wasn’t sure how she’d ever find her way out. Or if she even wanted to.
On another deep breath, Cora finally lifted her face and met Slider’s blazing light green eyes. He cupped her face in one big hand and swiped at her tears with his thumb, but it wasn’t enough, so he lifted the edge of his shirt and used that instead.
Cora managed a chuckle, even as she messed him up to put herself back together. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, his voice full of gravel. “Aren’t we a pair?” He swallowed hard. “You feel so much, and I can’t feel enough.”
The words were so revealing that they nearly made her gasp. “Oh, Slider,” she said. “I think you feel more than you let on.” She hadn’t meant about her, but the flare of those strange eyes told her he took it that way. And it made her want to backpedal. Fast. “I mean—”
He kissed her. Hand in her hair, his lips came down on hers in a soft press of skin on skin. It wasn’t the frenzy of their first kisses in his bed, but there was an intimacy in the softness, in the sweetness that hit her just as hard.
When he pulled away, his expression was intense and thoughtful, like he wanted to say something and needed to figure out exactly what it was. And then he nailed her with a stare and said, “Cora, you—”
Knock, knock. “Dad?” Sam called from outside Cora’s door.
They jolted apart, and Cora scrambled into a standing position and scrubbed at her face, her heart pumping hard. She knew Slider didn’t want the boys confused about what was going on with them, and since nothing was going on, there was no sense in giving them any other impression. Besides, Cora really didn’t want Slider to think of her with the slightest hint of regret.
Hands braced on his thighs, he dropped his head in what looked like a posture of defeat. Or, after all, regret . . . “Yeah, Sam?”
The boy poked his head in the doorway, his gaze ping-ponging between them.
“What did you need, son?” Slider asked, pushing himself off the floor.
Worry was plain on the kid’s face, so Cora didn’t make him voice it. “I was just upset,” she said. “Over something I saw at the shelter today. They found another dog that had been . . . really badly injured. And they think it was from dogfighting. It was . . . pretty terrible.” She hugged herself and tried to block out the images, images she had no intention of describing more graphically for Sam, whose expression already looked like she felt.
Slider frowned. “Dogfighting? Is that where this uptick in dumped-off dogs is coming from? Have they all been like this?”
Cora shrugged, but then something Maria said came back to her. “I don’t know, but Maria mentioned that this seemed to happen pretty regularly on Mondays. God, is there dogfighting nearby on the weekends?” The thought was truly horrifying.
“I don’t know,” Slider said. “But I can ask around.”
“I’m sure the authorities are looking into it,” Cora said. “From what I understand, animal control is bringing them in when they find them.”
“That really sucks, Cora. I’m sorry,” Sam said. “Did the dog . . . did he live?”
Cora wished she knew. “He was in surgery when I had to come home, so I don’t know what happened.” And she spent all night wondering.
The next morning, she couldn’t take another minute of not knowing, and she called as soon as the shelter opened. He’d survived the surgery and the night, and that was all Maria could say for now.
It was something.
But the uncertainty was kinda driving Cora crazy, so she threw herself into housework. If she was going to be a full-time nanny, she figured that meant she should take on more around the house than just what the boys needed in the moment. And though Sli
der kept the house neat-ish, it really needed the same TLC that they’d given to Cora’s room.
Not that Cora believed redecorating fell under her purview. So instead, she threw herself into a deep clean, starting with the kitchen and moving into the living room. The floors. The fridge. Scrubbing every surface. She took down the curtains in both rooms and threw them in the washer.
In the living room, she found a box of figurines sitting on the floor next to a corner display cabinet. Kneeling, she unwrapped them one by one. Collectibles of the Disney princesses, villains, and a few dogs. It was Pluto that really got her. She stroked his funny little head and wished it was the hurt dog that she could be petting.
Were these sitting here waiting to be displayed?
Cora took everything out of the cabinet and wiped it down, then dusted the shelves and rearranged to make space for the figurines all on one shelf. She removed the kids’ old school artwork, much of which had bent and faded from sitting propped up on the shelves for so long, and stacked all of it inside the cabinet, thinking she’d look for a keepsake box or scrapbook album to keep the art safe.
God, there was nothing like throwing herself into the mindless productivity of cleaning to make her feel better. At the very least, she felt like she’d accomplished something today.
Kneeling in front of the corner cabinet, she peered around the room and looked to see if she could tell the difference. The rooms were brighter. Surfaces gleamed. The air smelled lemony fresh. Yeah, she’d definitely made a difference.
The door opened behind her. “What are you doing?”
She turned to find Slider coming in, two pizza boxes in hand. He’d been out running errands most of the day, but she hadn’t expected the nice surprise of him bringing home dinner. Thank God he did, because she’d lost track of time.
“Oh, cleaning. And that smells good. Thanks for grabbing it.”
His brows cranked down. “You don’t have to do that.”
Cora got onto her feet and pushed stray waves from her messy bun behind her ears. “Of course I do. Nannies don’t just take care of kids.” She gestured at the room. “They take care of the house, too.”
He peered around like he was uncertain, or like a snake might jump out from under the couch, but finally nodded. “Well, it’s the nicest this old place has looked in a long damn time.” He did a double take, and Cora followed his gaze to the corner cabinet, and then that frown was back on his face.
“Oh, I found those figurines in a box beside the cabinet. I thought maybe they were there to be put out . . .” But now, seeing his reaction, Cora wanted to smack herself in the head. Of course they must have belonged to his wife. And she’d had absolutely no business touching them.
“It’s fine.” He took the pizza into the kitchen.
“Slider, I can put them away—”
“I said it’s fine,” he said, a gruffness to his voice that she hadn’t heard in so long. He huffed out a breath that came close to a growl, and agitated displeasure rolled off him in nearly physical waves.
Frozen in place, Cora didn’t know what to do. She just knew that somehow, she’d messed up. Big time. So much so that Slider wouldn’t look at her. After what they’d shared—even if they’d agreed it shouldn’t happen again—it left her feeling . . . adrift and unwanted. Burdensome, even. Feelings with deep roots in her past that could too easily reach out to the present.
The sound of the school bus pulling up saved her.
Slider’s shoulders fell. “Cora—”
“Boys are home,” she said, turning and making for the front door. Outside, she breathed in the fall spice on the air and waved as the kids ran off the bus and straight to her.
Like she belonged there.
But she didn’t, did she? Not really. God, she didn’t belong anywhere.
Back inside, the boys beelined for the pizza, and Cora headed for the steps.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Cora?” Ben called.
“I need to wash up,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. A day’s cleaning left her feeling grimy and sweaty. But she also wasn’t sure she wanted to sit across from Slider and see anger or distance on his face. Either would be too much for her to handle right now. Besides, quarter after four in the afternoon was a little early for her to eat.
So she indulged in a long shower, and the hot water revived her. Afterward, she towel-dried her hair, threw on some yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and lingered around her room until hunger necessitated that she go downstairs. She couldn’t hide out forever, particularly as the sound of the TV playing in the family room indicated that someone remained downstairs.
Remembering that the curtains needed to go in the dryer, she headed to the laundry room and shifted the load over. And then she heard her name.
“Cora?”
Closing her eyes, she heaved a deep breath. And then she followed Slider’s voice until she found him sitting alone on the couch, but he didn’t look at all like he’d been relaxing. Instead, he sat forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers laced together, head hanging low.
“Yeah?” she asked, her belly roiling with dread.
“Shut the door, please.”
Oh, God. Why in the world did he need her to close the door? What could be so bad that he’d want privacy to say it? She closed them in. Whatever this was seemed like it was not going to be good.
Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. But what she saw there wasn’t anger. Cora couldn’t tell what it was exactly. He just looked . . . shredded. “Thank you for making the house so nice.”
“Sure,” she said.
“The boys saw what you did with their mother’s figurines and loved it, so thank you for that, too.” She hugged herself and waited for the other shoe to drop. “But thanks isn’t all I owe you. I owe you an apology, too.”
Cora blinked. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all. “I was the one who touched something I shouldn’t.”
He waved a hand. “Bullshit. This is your house now. There’s nothing off limits to you, Cora. Understand?” Slider peered up at her, those pale eyes so intense.
If she’d been feeling more sarcastic, more sassy, she might’ve asked if that included him. But she wasn’t feeling playful just then. “Okay.”
He placed his hand against the cushion beside him. A silent invitation. “Would you sit with me?”
She sat like he was a wild animal that she couldn’t help wanting to get close to, even though she knew there was a chance it would take off her head.
“I wasn’t upset with you for putting out the figures,” he said, his voice sounding so defeated that it was hurting her heart. “They were there because we wanted to find a place for them and just hadn’t done it yet. What upset me is that they belonged to Kim—”
“I should’ve realized that right away, Slider. It was so stupid of me. I can only imagine how much she meant to you, so I—”
“No, you can’t. You really fucking can’t.” Cora’s feelings were well on their way to getting hurt again, when he continued. “Nobody can. Because nobody knows that it was . . . that it was all a lie.”
Cora’s head whipped up, her eyes on him, her mind trying to process if she’d really heard what she thought she heard. The room was silent, utterly still.
Slider heaved a breath that sounded like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. And his words made her think that maybe it really did. “Nobody knows.”
“Knows what?” she whispered. Goose bumps ran over her skin, because she’d been holding on to something no one knew, either.
He shook his head, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he did. “Kim . . . cheated on me. Was going to leave. And then she got the cancer and the sonofabitch wanted nothing to do with her. So I took her back.”
Cora could barely breathe. After being betrayed and abandoned, he’d spent months taking care of the terminally ill person who’d wronged him. “And you kept it quiet for the boys,” she ventured. She didn’t need him
to answer or even to nod, because the minute the words were out of her mouth, she knew she was right. And that was everything she needed to know about what kind of a man Slider Evans was. Loyal, even when that loyalty hadn’t been returned. Honorable. Compassionate. Selfless.
Nothing like any man she’d ever known.
But Slider did answer. “For the boys.” He gave a single shake. “But for me, too. I never want the boys to think bad of their mother, and I certainly don’t want them to know that she was leaving them, too. Because I damn well know firsthand how being abandoned can mark you in ways from which you can never recover.” His swallow sounded thick, tortured. “But I also didn’t want people to look down on me.”
The revelations were making her head spin, and so was the fact that he was opening up to share them. With her. But, for now, she focused on what she thought he most needed to hear. “No one would look down on you. What you did . . . it was heroic, Slider.”
He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m no fucking hero, Cora. Don’t forget that for a second.”
“You are . . . you are to me.” Her belly did a flip-flop on the admission, but she didn’t want to take it back. She’d never thought of Slider in those terms before, but hero definitely fit. He lived his life to take care of his kids. He’d devoted his life to taking care of his dying wife, even though some might say she didn’t deserve his devotion. He’d kept her secret to preserve their children’s happy memories and their self-esteem.
And that was a lot. A lot more than some people did. A lot more than what her parents had done, even before her father’s terrible violation.
His eyes absolutely burned as they looked at her. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, stunned by everything she’d learned, heartened that he wanted her to understand, and so damn angry on his behalf. Why did some people search their whole lives for love and never find it, while others found love and threw it away?
He cleared his throat. “The boys and I talked over pizza. They loved the way you rearranged the cabinet. They think you should do whatever you want to freshen up the house. Redecorate. Give it some new life. And I agree.”