Chapter 2
Alyssa
I do not believe this.
I do not f*cking believe this.
My day cannot get any shittier… At least, I hope it can’t.
Walking out of the two-stall barn, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Frank Harkins again. Like it did the last five times I called, it goes straight to voice mail. Rather than hang up, I choose to leave a message.
“Frank… it’s Alyssa Myers. Where in the hell are my pine shavings and hay? It was supposed to be here an hour ago, and I have a horse being transferred here in a few hours. Call me.”
I angrily punch the disconnect button, shoving the phone back into my jeans pocket. Scrubbing my fingers through my short hair, I look to the sky and plead to whoever is up there listening that I could use some help today.
Because it’s a big day at The Haven. After having one of my two bestest friends, Gabby, build me a small barn with an enclosed paddock, I’m now equipped to take on horses. Well, only two, but still… horses! Yay! It helps to have a friend that’s a general contractor and knows her way around a hammer and nails.
I had grown up riding horses, compliments of having wealthy parents that could indulge in that whim. But since moving here to the Outer Banks two years ago, I haven’t been around a single horse. That’s something that will soon be rectified.
And best of all, my first horse coming in today is one of the wild horses from over in Corolla. It’s a yearling they pulled from the herd to be trained and sold to a private buyer. It’s a way to keep the herd population within reasonable bounds.
I, of course, jumped all over that because the wild horses of Corolla are a beauty unto themselves, as well as an important part of the islands’ history.
But now, stupid Frank Harkins is late with my delivery, and it will not look good if I’m not ready when the horse arrives.
This is only half the reason my day has been shitty. The other reason is because my ex-boyfriend—who I really, really try to emphasize the word “ex” with—called this morning, and I mistakenly answered the phone without checking the caller ID.
Chad Gates apparently doesn’t understand the word “ex” despite me repetitively trying to explain the concept to him. Even though I bestowed that title on him over four months ago, he won’t let it go. Or more particularly, he won’t let me go.
When I answered, I knew my voice was groggy, since I had been sleeping soundly. Chad did what Chad does, and he went overkill concern on me.
“Baby… are you sick? Do you need me to bring you anything?”
I gave a cough and cleared my throat. “Chad? I just woke up. What do you need?”
“What I need is for you to give us another chance.”
“Yeah, not going to happen,” I told him, pissed that he was calling me after I’ve repeatedly told him to leave me alone, and pissed at myself for blindly answering the phone without seeing it was him calling.
“I won’t accept that,” he said adamantly. “You know what we had was good. I know I lost my cool with you, but I swear… that won’t happen again.”
Funny. Chad called it losing his cool.
I called it trying to choke me.
Big difference.
I didn’t even bother to answer him, just disconnected the call and threw my phone to the floor. Right on schedule, he called me back immediately. I let it ring and ignored it, because that was always the best thing to do with Chad.
He’s strange and unpredictable. He will go weeks without bothering me, then he’ll get a hair up his butt and decide he can’t live without me. This shit is getting old, and I’m even contemplating getting a restraining order. I came to find out late in my relationship with him that he apparently has a bit of a screw loose, and I’m not sure what lengths he would go to in an attempt to get me back.
Stomping over to the main building that houses the dog kennels, I do a quick walk through to make sure all is well. I was just in here an hour ago, getting the dogs fed and watered. My kennel is pretty state of the art, thanks to the Myers’ inheritance at my disposal. While my parents grit their teeth over the fact I’ve chosen to run a non-profit shelter rather than take a position on the Board of the pharmaceutical company my family founded, I can’t think of a better way to put my money to use.
I’ve always despised the lifestyle my parents lead. The parties, designer clothes, and outrageous sums of money spent on caviar taken from the belly of an Iranian beluga fish imported from the Caspian Sea, just so my mom could brag to her friends that her caviar was from the belly of an Iranian beluga fish imported from the Caspian Sea. It was ridiculous. Much to my parents’ chagrin, I turned into a person that was content to eat Burger King every day and clean up dog shit for the rest of my life.
The only good thing that came out of my parents’ extreme wealth, in my humble opinion, was the fact that we came to our house in the Outer Banks every summer, and I became friends with Gabby Ward and Casey Markham. That led to a friendship with two women that I love and admire very much. That, in turn, led me to move to the Outer Banks permanently once I graduated from the University of North Carolina, which was a double whammy to my parents.
The fact I would live in the barren outreaches of rural North Carolina rather than on Fifth Avenue is something they just can’t fathom. Add to that I graduated from a state school rather than an Ivy League college, and they think I’ve gone off the deep end. But once I found out that Gabby and Casey were going to UNC, so was I. Once they returned to the Outer Banks… so did I. The only difference was that I finished my degree, while they both dropped out of school.
Walking down the center of the kennel, I look left and right to check all the cages. My kennel is completely enclosed in, climate controlled, and can house up to thirty dogs, fifteen on each side. Each individual cage is actually big enough to hold two dogs, but I only put one in each. The cage has a doggie door that leads into a private outdoor run for each pup. It gives them the freedom to go outside when they want, but allows them to come into the air conditioning when they get hot.
Just off this building, I have an acre fenced in where the dogs can run free and play with each other if they are adequately socialized. If not, then I take them on a few leash walks each day. I have a separate building that houses the cats, but they don’t have outdoor access. Nope… got to clean their litter boxes every day.
When I get to the end of the aisle, I squat down before the cage on the left, hooking my fingers through the chain links for balance. I watch the dog, lying on a soft bed about three feet away. He was brought in about a week ago, completely starved. He was covered in fleas and ticks and tested heartworm positive. I expect he’s a mix of some type of coonhound and shepherd, but he’s really old. The vet that checked him out thought he was in the beginning stages of kidney failure just from old age, estimating he was between fourteen and sixteen years old. The dog had no collar to identify him, and it was clear he had been living out in the wild for a while, which is amazing given his advanced age. Still, he’s a sweet boy who softly licked my hand and when I led him into the kennel, he plopped down on the fresh bed I had put in there with a sigh. He was just so damned tired, and he slept for almost twelve hours.
The vet told me I should just euthanize him, but this was a new volunteer vet, first time she had been out here, and I growled at her for such a suggestion. I reminded her that this was a no-kill shelter and unless the old boy was in pain, he would have a comfy life here. The vet just shrugged her shoulders and moved on to her next patient.
Since then, I’ve watched him carefully, spending extra time with him so he would know the soft touch of a human before he died. I named him Jethro, because he just looked like a Jethro, and for a dog that had been away from humans for probably a long time, he amazingly had no problem in warming up to me. Sometimes I would go sit in his cage with him, and he would lay his head on my lap and snooze. Jethro only gets his old bones up when he has to go outside to the bathroom or when it’s time to eat. Past that, he just wants to sleep, and I’m not about to tell him he has to do otherwise.
“Hey, Jethro,” I say softly, watching his ribs move up and down as he breathes. He doesn’t respond, so I know he’s deeply asleep. After watching him for a few more minutes, I stand up, noticing with a wince that my knees are creaking more and more. This job is physically demanding… cleaning cages, hauling forty-pound bags of dog food, dealing with wily animals, and bathing said wily animals. I have a few volunteers that help me out, one in particular that comes every Saturday so I can have that day off, but I run this place mostly on my own. I work between twelve and fifteen hours a day, six days a week. So while my young twenty-three-year-old body is already having creaks and groans, damn if it isn’t worth it. I go to sleep every night with a smile on my face, thankful for the opportunity to do something that means so much to me.
My phone rings and I hastily pull it out of my pocket, hoping it’s Frank.
Sadly, it’s not, although the person calling always puts a smile on my face.
“Hey Casey,” I chirp when I connect the call.
“Hey. Ready for tonight?” she asks.
“Hell yeah,” I tell her enthusiastically. “Are you sure she has no clue?”
“She’s oblivious,” Casey assures me. “Meet me there about six o’clock to help me decorate, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And don’t forget the cake.”
“I won’t forget the cake,” I assure her, although I had completely forgotten about the cake. Now along with my stress over the hay and new horse, I had to go get Gabby’s birthday cake.
Because tonight we are throwing a huge surprise party for her. Her birthday isn’t until next Wednesday, but we figured she’d never see it coming if we did it a bit early. Hunter is in charge of getting her to Last Call under some pretext, and I’m tasked with the cake. Casey is handling decorations, so we should have it covered.
“Okay… peace out,” she says with a giggle and hangs up.
I quickly pull up the calendar on my phone and set myself a reminder to get out of here at five so I have time to run home for a quick shower and to get the cake.
Just as I finish my calendar entry, the phone rings. I see it’s Frank.
Thank God.
“Frank… you better have a good excuse,” I warn when I answer.
“How about the fact my wife went into labor, and I’m at the hospital,” he says flippantly.
“Holy shit… are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I just now saw your messages and honestly, I completely forgot about it. When Jeannie’s water broke this morning, I wigged out.”
“It’s no problem,” I assure him, my brain spinning, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
“The hay and bags of pine shavings are already on the trailer, Alyssa. If you think you can get it hooked to your truck, you can go haul it yourself. I’ll cut the price, of course.”
Bingo! That would work.
“Awesome. I’ll head over there now. And I hope all goes well with Jeannie,” I tell him.
“I’m sure it will,” he says before he hangs up.
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I leave the kennel and head toward my truck. I’ve never hooked up a trailer before, but it can’t be that hard, right? My bigger concern is how to unload it all by myself, but I figure I can push the bales and bags off and drag them in. All I need are a few to get the stall ready.
I open the door and step up into my truck. Of course, I have the seat pulled completely up as far as it will go because I’m so short. Taking a deep breath, I turn the engine and put it in drive.
I have things to do.