Salvaged. Jay Crownover

have let you leave the other day. I wanted to take him. I should’ve taken him, but my head’s all over the place right now and I can’t even tell which way is up half the time.” He lifted a hand and rubbed it across the back of his neck, which lifted the bottom of the black thermal he was wearing up and revealed the tight cut of his abs over the line of his jeans. I wasn’t surprised that he was tattooed there as well, but I was a little shocked that he seemed to be sporting a clearly defined six-pack. He wasn’t built bulky and thick like a lot of the other guys that were now a regular part of my life thanks to Salem and Rowdy and the tattoo shop. I should have guessed that hauling motors in and out of cars and throwing tires around all day led to having the kind of body that would have a lot of women pinning him to hot guy boards on Pinterest left and right.

      “I’m terrified about the prospect of becoming a dad. I let that fear take over most of my life and I dismissed the idea of taking on more responsibility out of hand. The truth is, my house is lonely right now. I’m lonely.” He looked at me like I should have something to say to that but I couldn’t figure out what my response was supposed to be. There was a time when I was young and naive to all the ways a man could hurt a woman and I knew that girl would know what to say to him, but she was long gone. I was here biting my tongue to keep from saying what I was sure was the wrong thing. “I think the puppy might help me settle into the idea of being a new dad.”

      I made a face. “You want to practice your parenting skills on a puppy?” It wasn’t a horrible idea but it wasn’t the best one I’d ever heard either. If I was in his shoes I would be hitting up all those buddies of his that were well on their way to populating Denver with the next generation of marked men and women. Hell, his best friend from childhood had recently become a father to an adorable five-year-old, the results of an ill-thought-out one-night stand. Zeb Fuller wasn’t any more prepared for fatherhood than Wheeler seemed to be and yet he’d landed on his feet and found himself a perfect little family with only a few mishaps along the way.

      “No … well, kind of … I don’t know. In my head it sounded more reasonable and less crazy than that. What I do know is that I need something in my life to focus on besides the panic and resentment that’s been eating me alive lately. I can give him a good home.”

      I looked down at the dog, who was now happily chewing on the dangling end of one of Wheeler’s shoelaces, and sighed. I didn’t want to give him up but the only reason he was here now was because of the man standing in front of me.

      I’d spent my entire life trying to make men happy, trying to get them to love me by giving them everything I had. Apparently it was a hard habit to break because even though I didn’t want to, I heard myself begrudgingly tell Wheeler, “Fine. You can have him, but if you get tired of him, or if you think he’s too much to handle and want me to take him back, you have to know that I’ll never forgive you for that. I’ll never forgive myself for trusting you. You can’t do that to him.” Or me, I told him silently. The puppy plopped himself on his butt and looked up at both of us. His head swiveled between the two of us as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest and tears burned at the back of my eyes. This sucked but I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew all about needing to find something that tethered you to reality. Without it, the past and the possibility of a shattered present could fling you into a really ugly place that was hard to escape from. At the moment I only had one hand out of that particular pit of despair and I was doing my best to pull the rest of my body out with an uncertain grip.

      He cocked his head to the side and considered me thoughtfully for a second. Those dimples flashed again and this time I couldn’t contain a sigh. He must have heard it because his lips lifted up and some of that ice that chilled his gaze seemed to thaw.

      “I’m not going to get tired of him and you’re not going to miss him because we’re going to share custody of him. I don’t know what to do with a puppy any more than I know what to do with a baby. You’re an expert on the subject seeing as how you work with animals all day long. I figure you can help me train him.” He pointed to where the dog had abandoned his shoelace and was now in the living room sniffing along the edge of the couch like he was looking for a place to go to the bathroom. I gasped and flew out of my chair so I could stop the impending couch ruinage. “Let’s be honest, there is no way I’ll be able to juggle a dog and a newborn. Once Kallie and I figure out some kind of custody arrangement, you can have the dog when I have the baby.”

      I put the dog back on the floor in the kitchen just in case he decided he really did have to go. I looked up at Wheeler like he’d lost his mind, because the way he was talking right now I kind of figured he had.

      The dimples were back as he shifted position so he was leaning against the counter with his legs stretched out in front of him. “It all makes sense. I knew you weren’t going to want to give the puppy up after I fucked up and I know I’m not ready for all that responsibility on my own. It’s the perfect solution.”

      I shook my head at him and threw my hands up in the air. “I think you’re insane.”

      He continued to grin at me and I realized belatedly that when I’d moved into the kitchen it put me close enough to him that I could feel the heat his body generated and could see the way his muscles flexed and moved each time he laughed.

      “Well, I think you’re pretty but that doesn’t have anything to do with anything. Take me up on my offer, Poppy, please.”

      It was the second time he’s brought up the fact that he found me attractive. I used to be, but I’d gone out of my way to be anything except that ever since I was released from the hospital after Oliver died and the police pulled me away from the horrific scene that was our last moments together. How attractive Wheeler found me wasn’t what I should be focused on, and yet I couldn’t stop his words from spinning around in my head or the way they made my heart dip and my breath shudder.

      “Fine. I’ll help you with the dog, but once he’s older and you and the baby are settled into a pattern, you have to keep him full-time. Kids need a pet.” Or at least in my experience, they wanted one and were never allowed to have one because their tyrannical father thought they were dirty and unnecessary. I cringed at the memory.

      “I can do that.” He stuck out his hand, and before I could think twice about it or recoil at the thought of touching my palm to his, I put my much smaller one in his firm grasp. I let out a little whimper when his fingers closed over mine, too stunned that I was touching another person on purpose to move. “It’s a deal, honey.” His words were quiet and soft. He let go far earlier than I wanted him to but I was still in shock, so I just stood there with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide as he told me, “He needs a name before I go.”

      I took a step back and lifted a hand to my throat. I wanted to get it right, which is why I hadn’t given him a name yet. I didn’t like the pressure of trying to come up with something fitting while Wheeler had those chilly baby blues locked on me. “You pick.”

      Slowly his head shook back and forth in the negative. “Nope. You’ve known him longer and spent more time with him. You should get to pick what we call him.”

      I looked down at the dog, who was now on his back, all four feet in the air as he wiggled around the floor fueled by nothing more than excitement and joy. I cleared my throat and looked down at my feet. “Happy. We should call him Happy.” I winced as my voice did that thing where it broke in the middle of my words again.

      “Happy? Like the guy on Sons of Anarchy? You didn’t strike me as a biker babe, Poppy.”

      It was my turn to cock my head in confusion. “What’s a Son of Anarchy?” I didn’t watch much TV. It was all too violent and I’d made the mistake of stumbling onto a Law & Order: SVU marathon on cable a few months ago and ended up curled up in a ball on the couch crying my eyes out because the content hit too close to home. Even something as simple as watching television Oliver had tainted and destroyed.

      His eyebrows shot up again and his whole body vibrated as he started to laugh. “Never mind. Why Happy?”

      I shrugged, worried that