Obsession Falls(5)

Mom clutched her hands against her chest. “Duchess, stay there. Don’t come out, babykins. Mommy will save you.”

Not that she was actually doing anything to save her cat.

“I’ll get him.” I got close enough to grab the leash but Max let out a loud yelp of pain. I grabbed the leash and led him away. “What happened? Did the kitty get you?”

He had a small scratch on his nose, just enough to draw blood.

“Oh buddy, that must hurt.”

“Duchess,” Mom cooed, approaching the couch slowly. “Come out, kitty-kitty.”

I moved Max farther away and kept a death grip on his leash. “Maybe she just wants to hide under there for a while.”

“No, she needs her mama.” She clicked her tongue. “There, there, my precious little kitty-witty.”

Crouching down, I checked Max’s nose. He wagged his tail and tried to lick my face. It wasn’t a bad scratch. It had probably surprised him more than anything. Now he didn’t seem to notice.

Duchess finally came out from around the back side of the couch. She was a white Persian with a mass of long fur, especially around her scrunched up face, and amber eyes that, as far as I was concerned, made her look evil.

“There you go, sweet baby.” Mom scooped her up and cuddled her. “Don’t worry, the mean doggie won’t get you.”

Max barked.

Duchess hissed.

“I don’t think Max is the mean one in this scenario, but okay.”

Mom scowled at me. “My precious kitten isn’t mean. She was only protecting herself. And that dog is going to have to stay outside.”

“Outside where?”

“In the back.”

“It’s not fenced.”

“Can’t you tie him up?”

“Mom!”

“What? Is that wrong? I wouldn’t want to be cruel to him, I’m just trying to be practical.”

I sighed. “I’ll keep him leashed in the house and just take him for walks to get exercise. And there’s a doggie daycare up the street from the newspaper, so I’ll take him there while I’m at work.”

“The leash didn’t exactly work as advertised.”

“I set it in my lap. I thought the cat was upstairs in your room or something. I’ll be more careful to hold on to it.”

She snuggled the cat to her face. “Well, okay then. We’ll make it work. Let’s go, sweet baby cat, and get a treat. You deserve one after that scare. Yes, you do.”

I looked down at Max. His cute brown eyes met mine and he wagged his tail.

“Come on, good boy. Let’s take a walk and get some of that energy out.”

I could still hear my mom murmuring baby talk to her cat as I left. I shut the door behind me and took another deep breath. The air was fresh and warm—not quite the heat of summer, but there was a hint of it.

We walked past my car, full of the stuff I’d packed, and a sense of resignation stole over me. This was what my life had come to. Moving back home to take a desperation job.

I’d have to make the best of it. It was just the means to an end anyway.





CHAPTER 3





Josiah





The smell was everywhere.

I wrinkled my nose. I’d been hoping the stench was mostly in the carpet, but we’d taken the last of that out yesterday. The entire house still smelled like cigarette smoke and something else I couldn’t name. I probably didn’t want to know. The walls were trashed, there was water damage everywhere, and it seemed like every time I peeled back a layer, I found a new problem.

Still, there was something I liked about this house.

I lowered the sledgehammer and rested my leather gloved hands on the handle. Broken chunks of cheap cabinetry littered the kitchen floor and dust hung in the air. Sweat dripped down my back and I was really looking forward to sitting on my couch with an ice-cold beer tonight. But demo was satisfying work. A chance to let out the beast for a while.

And despite how much work was still left to be done, the house already looked a hell of a lot better than it had when Dad and I had bought it. The previous owners had kept it as a rental and clearly hadn’t bothered with maintenance. I was no stranger to the pitfalls of owning rental properties, but this place had been a dump. We also owned the house next door and half the reason we’d bought this one was so we could clean it up and have an easier time renting the other place. It had to help if it no longer looked like the neighbors might be running a meth lab.

But there was still a long way to go before that would be a reality.

I hoisted the sledgehammer and swung. It hit the next piece of cabinet with a satisfying thwack. I swung again, harder, sending a chunk of particle board flying—along with a big piece of drywall.

What the hell?

Stepping closer, I lifted my safety goggles. Some genius had glued the lower cabinets to the wall. I’d taken out a chunk of drywall along with the cabinet. That probably meant the rest of the cabinets were glued too.

Damn. I’d been hoping we could salvage the drywall but it wasn’t looking good.

I grabbed the remaining piece of cabinet that was still stuck to the wall and pulled. More drywall cracked and tore open, exposing the framing behind it.

Screw it. I picked up the sledgehammer and swung, hard, letting it rip through wood, particle board, glue, drywall—I didn’t care. I swung again. Crack! Cabinets splintered. Again, and I ripped open more of the wall. Over and over, until my back and arms burned, and sweat ran down my temples. Where there’d once been a dated kitchen counter with crappy cabinets, there was now a pile of rubble and a big-ass hole in the wall.