Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I set Blueberry on the ground and handed over the leash. “He’s a fast runner,” I said, smiling as if I didn’t just face down death by front bumper.
“He’s my friend’s dog. I’m just watching him. If anything happened… I can’t even think about that. Thank you. Seriously. I’m Byron Rosewell. If you ever need anything, my mom’s the mayor—I can pull strings. Get you the key to the city if you wanted it.”
I laughed and waved it off. “No need. I’m not looking for any reward. It’s nice to meet you, Byron.” I shook his hand, feeling a tremble from the residual fear. “I’m Matt, in town for work and dog-saving.”
“Well, welcome to Blue Creek, then.” He sighed, the adrenaline wearing off. Blueberry sat at his feet, looking up at us with that tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking completely innocent and adorable.
Byron thanked me again and started down the sidewalk, wrapping Blueberry’s leash tight around his wrist.
This wasn’t how I planned to start off the workday, but at least I didn’t have to drink any caffeine today. I was as alert as if I’d taken six espresso shots all at once. My heart pounded in my chest and continued to do so as I entered the pet store and followed the Stonewall Investigations signs, which led me up a set of stairs and dropped me off in a quaint waiting room. It reminded me of a doctor’s office, with a stack of ancient magazines sitting on a table and surrounded by the world’s most uncomfortable-looking chairs. A smiley guy sat at the front desk, and I was surprised to see who he had as his helper—a yellow-crested cockatoo that sat on a tall perch behind the desk, a rainbow-colored rope hanging from his beak. He dropped the rope and let out a welcome-caw.
“Morning,” I said, directing it to both of them with a friendly smile.
“Welcome to Stonewall Investigations. I’m Darien. What can we help you with today?”
“I’m actually here to work. I’m Matthew Hale, with the FBI.” I pulled out my badge and placed it on the desk. Darien picked it up and cocked his head, reading it over. “I’m supposed to be helping with the Pegasus case.”
Darien looked up at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, okay. There’s actually a meeting going on right now. Let me see… hold on.” He got up from behind the desk and disappeared down a hallway. I looked to the cockatoo, and the cockatoo looked to me. Birds, I never knew if I could fully trust them or not. This one didn’t seem like it was plotting my demise, but I still could never be sure. They were way too smart for their own good.
I heard footsteps coming back down the hall. Darien reappeared, going back to his seat at the desk.
“Matthew? What the hell are you doing here?” Jason Quill sounded shocked, the expression on his face twisting so that his thick eyebrows nearly met in the center of his forehead. His squared jaw dropped open, his perfect teeth on full display. He had a five-o’clock shadow that looked good on him. Years had passed since I last saw his face—unless you counted the dreams—and time had only made him grow more attractive.
Darien spoke up. “He says he’s with the—”
“FBI,” Jason said. His gaze drilled directly through me. Like he was seeing a ghost. He shook his head, and the shock seemed to disperse, a smile beginning to grow on his lips.
“Jesus, how long has it been?” he asked.
“Way too long,” I said. Last I saw him, Jason was turning twenty-five and blowing up everything between us. Now he was thirty and I was thirty-three, time having numbed some of the pain.
I didn’t know how this meeting would go. For all intents and purposes, I should have still been angry at him for what was said—what he had said—during our last moments together. The words weren’t forgotten, not at all, but… I was never one to hold grudges. Especially not one from five years ago. People change as much as the seasons do. Some believe that no one really ever changed, but I didn’t prescribe to that line of thought. Life makes change a guarantee. Shit happens, and people grow (or wither) because of it.
No matter how many memories of a smiling Jason crashed into my mind, I knew that this man standing in front of me wasn’t the same as the boy who I’d fallen for all those years ago.
And maybe that was for the better.
“You’re here to work the Pegasus case?” Jason asked, arms crossing against his chest. I got a peek at a colorful tattoo underneath his long-sleeve shirt. The pocket had an emblem stitched into it: a rocket ship shooting toward a star with a crown above it. I remembered Jason’s old obsession with space and wondered if he still loved to stargaze.