Free Finding Home by Georgia Beers Page B

each other and had smiles on their faces.
    Standing up so fast that her ice cream rubbed against the front of her and left a long, brown streak on her shirt, Sarah race-walked across the street, narrowly avoiding getting ß attened by a FedEx truck, the driver of which laid on his horn for an unnecessarily long beat. Glancing over her shoulder, she was painfully aware that her bike was unlocked, but she couldn’t stop. People had turned to look when the horn honked, including the women walking Bentley. As Sarah got closer, she recognized one of the women, and her feet faltered as if trying all on their own to stop her progress.
    The counter girl from Valenti’s—the one with the pink streak—looked uncertain and then smiled. “Oh, hey,” she said, furrowing her brow, probably at Sarah’s agitated state as well as the chocolate ice cream on her chest that must have made her look like a Þ ve-year-old. She cocked her head to the side and began to ask a question. “Are you o—”
    “That’s my dog,” Sarah blurted, pointing at Bentley.
    The kind expression slid right off the girl’s face as if made of
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    wet paint, and suddenly changed to worry and near panic. Before she could respond, her companion stepped directly in front of her, eyes glaring, nostrils ß ared. She was taller than the coffee shop girl, and she waved her on.
    “Keep walking, Natty.”
    Natalie did as she was told, albeit hesitantly, coaxing Bentley along with her, glancing over her shoulder more than once with an apprehensive grimace.
    The taller woman suddenly Þ lled Sarah’s vision, preventing Sarah from following by using her body as a roadblock. The way she protected the coffee shop girl and turned on Sarah made her seem even bigger and broader than her slender frame suggested.
    Despite her attractive features, everything about her screamed Back off! and her casual Abercrombie and Fitch outÞ t seemed more like body armor. The look on her face actually made Sarah pull up short. Not one to be easily intimidated, Sarah simply blinked at her in confusion.
    “That’s my dog,” she said again, trying to keep her voice steady, even though she felt a weird combination of joy, panic, anger, and fear.
    “I don’t think so.” The woman’s voice was a near growl.
    “You certainly don’t deserve to have him. Do you have any idea what kind of shape he was in when Natalie found him? Do you?”
    Her dark eyes ß ashed with fury and she spoke through clenched teeth, her voice low enough so passersby couldn’t hear her, but vicious enough to keep Sarah rooted to her spot on the sidewalk.
    “I was away,” Sarah said. “Overseas. For work.” She sounded pathetic even to her own ears.
    “Yeah? Well while you were away? Overseas? For work?
    That dog was on the street. He was starving. He had no water. He got in Þ ghts. His hair was missing in clumps. His leg was sliced open. He was afraid of people. And did I mention the starving part?”
    Sarah swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. “It wasn’t my fault,” she said, her voice like a small child’s. “I…my
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    brother…” Her voice trailed off. “It wasn’t my fault,” she said again, this time with even less conviction.
    “It was somebody’s. Natalie found him. She fed him. She nursed him back to health. She loved him. She put up ß yers to Þ nd his owner. And you know what happened? Nothing. And tthree months have gone by and now? That is her dog. Her. Dog.
    He’s happy with her and she deserves him.” Stepping another inch closer, she poked Sarah in the chest as she snarled, “You leave her alone.” She turned and left so quickly that Sarah wasn’t sure she’d even seen her go. She was just—not there anymore.
    Head spinning, Sarah stood on the sidewalk, ice cream all over her shirt, hair matted from her bike helmet, and watched as the taller woman jogged to catch up with Natalie and Bentley.
    Both woman and dog