Chapter 11

"Honey, I'm home," I call out when I arrive at my parents' home.

Nobody answers. I pull out my phone to see if they sent me a message, but all I found is one from Tyberius.

Ty: So, are these pets an issue? Will you be able to stay with Myra or . . . it's a little concerning. Since I'm afraid of your response, I made a few calls, and my only option might be to send my child to Mom's place in Florida and believe me that's the last thing I want to do.

My shoulders tense as I read his concerns. My fingers hover over the screen as I debate how to respond. Before I can type a reply, Rigby comes barreling toward me, tail wagging excitedly.

"Hey, buddy. Are you here on your own?" I pat his head. "Did Grandma and Grandpa leave you in charge of the house?"

"Woof." The goofy guy grins and pants. I squat to give him a good ear scratch. His tongue lolls out as he covers my face in happy puppy kisses.

I stand, glancing around. "Where's David hiding?"

Rigby tilts his head, but of course doesn't respond to me. I'm pretty sure he's trying to say, who's David and can we go home now? If we leave the feline with the grandparents, he'd be the happiest puppy in the world. My furbabies have this love, hate relationship that I'll never understand.

"Why don't we go search for him and get you a delicious treat before we go home?"

At the mention of a treat, Rigby barks and races toward the kitchen. I follow, refilling the water bowl before grabbing a cookie from the jar. Rigby gobbles it up eagerly.

"Let's go find David, buddy," I say, heading toward Mom's office where he could be hiding with Kiki. My phone buzzes with another new message. I feel a flash of irritation as I read it.

Ty: I don't want to impose, but if you don't think you'll be able to give me a hand, I would like to know now so I can arrange . . . well, I don't even know how to get her to Florida before Monday.

I sigh before typing.

Indie: Umm, so much for waiting until I could text you.

Ty: I'm trying to be patient, but this is my kid we're talking about. David Meowie and Rigby Barks sound important. I'd like to discuss them, see if there will be any issues. As I said before, I may need to ask my mother for help. Which to be honest with you is worse than leaving my almost six-year-old alone at home.

I frown, trying to decide if he's kidding or if his mother is really that bad at taking care of his child. As I chew my bottom lip, considering my response, Rigby nuzzles my leg. It's pretty simple to answer Ty.

Indie: Rig and Dave are important. They're family. They'll have to come with me when I stay overnight.

I read my reply several times before hitting send, wondering if I should disclose more. No, that's enough. I doubt he'll ask for more details. Should I tell him the truth, though?

What would Tyberius say if he knew they help quiet my anxiety? That they're the ones who keep me grounded and thanks to them I can function like a regular person.

Should I send something like, Believe me, it's safer for your daughter if they're with me?

Nope. It's best not to text a confession to this perfect stranger. So far, I haven't had to release that information to anyone—not even my family. Why start letting anyone in on my secret?

My friends think my attachment to them is weird enough as it is. My family doesn't judge me or think much about it. Since I was young, I dragged our pets around the house and slept with them.

Ty: The thing is, Myra's allergic to cats.

Indie: Lucky for you, Dave is hypoallergenic, and so is Rigby. I'm allergic to cats, too.

I smirk slightly, imagining his surprise that I've already circumvented his objection. My smirk fades though as another text appears.

Ty: So, to confirm, you're bringing them both whenever you stay overnight? I don't know if we can accommodate that.

I blow out a long breath. How much resistance is he going to put up with? I square my shoulders and type out my response.

Indie: Actually . . . they come with me everywhere, anytime. Starting tomorrow, consider them part of the package deal.

I stare at the dancing dots on the screen, chest tightening. Either he's typing and erasing his response, or he's messaging Jude to complain how I'm making this too difficult. I gnaw my bottom lip. I hope he doesn't drag my brother into this. Jude's fine with me bringing the boys to the office, he even set up beds for them. But I've never outright called them a necessity before.

This might be a disaster.

My breath starts coming faster and my pulse spikes as scenarios play through my mind. What if Tyberius causes problems with Jude? What if Jude begins to look too closely into what's happening to me . . . Then he'll let our parents know and they'll be disappointed in me. I don't want them to worry about me, to see how broken I still am.

What if my entire family finds out that I'm still not okay? I repeat several times in my mind.

What if?

The walls of the room seem to bend inward as I struggle to pull in enough air. I can feel the panic attack creeping up on me, threatening to overwhelm my crumbling defenses. My skin grows clammy with cold sweat.

Then David is twining urgently around my wobbling legs, letting out plaintive mews. I sit on the floor trying to control my breathing. Rigby whines and butts his head hard against my trembling hands, big brown eyes pleading. I focus on burying my fingers deep into Rigby's warm and silky fur, using the sensations to anchor myself against the rising tide of anxiety. David's insistent purr and the solid, living weight of their bodies crowd out the crashing waves in my mind.

Gradually, my constricted lungs remember to expand. The room rights itself again. "Good boys," I murmur, as I kiss each of their heads. By the time Ty's response appears, I've regained my balance. I take a deep breath and pick up my phone again.

Ty: Are they well trained? I've heard some animals don't like to be around kids.

Indie: Let's start with, David and Rigby aren't animals—they're my furbabies. They're well trained to be around people and adore children.

Ty: What if Myra gets too attached to them?

Indie: This would be an amazing learning moment for her. She can have friends that doesn't mean they'll live with her forever.

Ty: She keeps asking for a pet. We're not prepared for that.

Indie: If this is a problem, I . . . I can fly her to Florida this weekend.

Not that I want to fly, but I'm certain that I can convince my sister to come along. We can call this ‘a girls' trip.'

Ty: My mother's house isn't a safe place for her. I guess I'll take my chances with your pets.

Indie: May I ask why your mother is a bad option?

Ty: I'd rather not disclose the issue. My mother doesn't know how to raise children.

Indie: You seem to be okay.

Ty: I fake it well.

My fingers hover over the screen. Should I ask him why? No, better not to push. He can keep his secrets as long as I keep mine.

Indie: Why don't I bring them over tonight, so they get to know Myra—and vice versa?

Ty: I guess . . . I feel like I'm doing something stupid by agreeing with your request.

Indie: Ha, maybe I'm being the stupid one for being someone I'm not—nanny isn't in my job description.

Ty: Where are they going to sleep when you stay overnight?

Indie: With me, obviously.

I sit cross-legged on the floor, phone resting in my lap. David is on my lap, circling before settling down with a squeaky yawn. Rigby flops down next to us with a contented huff. I scratch behind both their ears absently as I await Ty's response.

The typing bubble appears and disappears several times. I hold my breath.

I bite my lip, wondering if he'll rescind the offer. I shouldn't care if he does, but if he's right and his mother is not a good person I don't want Myra to go to her.

Ty: Well, you'll have to order the furniture and choose the room.

I let out a relieved sigh, making David's ears twitch.

Indie: Got it, I'll probably be at your home with my cousin to figure out what we need.

Ty: Will you be able to have the furniture here by Monday?

Indie: Yep. That's why Teddy is coming with me. She has a concierge business that performs miracles. It won't be cheap, but I'll make sure they bill you directly.

Ty: Fine, are you coming tomorrow morning?

Indie: You haven't sent me your schedule just yet, but I know there's no training tomorrow.

Ty: Gemma used to come every day regardless of my whereabouts.

Indie: So you'll be there tomorrow morning, but you just want me to handle the tasks to get Myra to school?

Ty: Yes. Today is the first time I tried and you saw how unsuccessful it was.

Indie: Okay, here's a refreshing idea. You practice getting her to school and bond with your child. I'll see you tomorrow evening, before you have to go to the arena. :wink: emoji

Ty: That's not how this works. I'm paying you to work and do everything that involves my daughter.

Indie: Funny that you mention it, but currently, I'm doing this as a favor—no one is paying me. And as a favor to Myra, I'm letting you learn how to be an even better father. You're welcome.

I grin down at David and Rigby. "We won and averted yet another crisis." I swear Dave gives me an annoyed look and closes his eyes while Rig wags his tail.

"Hopefully Ty and Myra will handle the invasion well enough," I mumble, trying to stand up so I can pack these guys in the car and go home.

Though, I'd love to see my parents. This is not the best time for that. I'll just leave a note and see them over the weekend.