Page 78 of Pucked Together

"Iz-zy," he says my name like a warning.

"Look, I'm just going down the road and back, okay, Kee? I just need to be outside. I need to breathe."

Breathe, Izzy. Breathe.

That voice again. A gentle caress coming from the recesses of my brain. Is it Trevor? I can't pinpoint it.

"Fine," Keelan huffs. "But if I don't see or hear from you in fifteen minutes, I'm sending for reinforcements."

I roll my eyes. "Bye, Keelan." And hang up.

A text comes through almost immediately.

Unknown number: Don't test me. -K

Unknown number: Save my number.

It's Keelan being Keelan. He's always been extra protective of me.

I save his contact info as Warden Landry, and I tuck my phone into the jacket pocket.

Wednesday sniffs occasionally as we walk. We pass a few women pushing strollers, and I wave at them as they shoot glances at my bandaged head.

"Plane crash," I point to my head as they walk by, staring at me in confusion and pushing their strollers a little faster.

Tough crowd.

We keep walking until we find ourselves in a cul-de-sac with only one house. "Looks like this is where we turn around," I say to Wednesday. She's about to turn with me but then suddenly goes still.

I tug on her leash, trying to get her to follow me. "Wends?" I pull again, but the dog has gone statue straight.

"What the heck are you looking at?"

Her eyes are locked on the big, beautiful house taking up the entire cul-de-sac. "Yeah, it's a nice house, but let's go before the owner spots us staring,” I say.

The sun is slowly going down behind the house, and I'm sure whoever lives there has the best view of a gorgeous Texas sunset every single night.

'Wednesday!" I tug her towards me, but instead of coming to me she starts pulling me towards the front door.

Now, Wednesday isn't a big dog by any means. But she is persistent as hell. Which means when she wants something, she'll stop at nothing to get it. So the medium-sized dog is now dragging me towards the front door of the massive estate, sniffing the entire way like Scooby Doo, finding a clue.

I fight with her as she continues to tug. But it's useless. I haven't had an actual meal in a while, with the last few days being just jello and broth to get my stomach used to food again. So, in my weakened state, the dog wins. And when she makes it to the impressive double black wooden doors, she plants her butt in front of them and stares at them, whimpering.

What the hell?

Maybe she smells steak. Or another dog?

The thought of steak has my stomach twisting, and I don't feel so good.

'Wednesday," I whisper. "Please, we need to go." I pull again.

But suddenly, the porch lights go on, and I gasp as the giant black door is pulled open.

There's a man with beautiful green eyes and no shirt staring right back at me. He looks so familiar like he might be an acquaintance.

"Um..hehe...hi," I say. "Sorry about this, but my dog has no self-control, and she apparently wants something that's in your house."

The man says nothing. He stays leaning on the door with one arm propped high on the frame as he assesses me. His eyes bounce from my dog back to me and my bandaged head.