Read Online Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series by Marliss Melton - Free Book Online
Authors: Marliss Melton
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the dead crab in one corner, then sat in front of it to guard it, while Curtis locked the door.
With his hands still on the crate, Curtis looked down at his ankle. Blood pulsed from the puncture wounds. As he pulled his sock higher to cover the holes and slow the bleeding, it occurred to him that what had happened was a game changer. His mom was going to freak out. She wouldn’t let him come here anymore, which meant that he’d have nothing to do for the rest of the summer and he wouldn’t be making any money.
Self-pity overwhelmed him suddenly. His ankle hurt too much to put any weight on it. So he sat right there on the grass next to Draco’s crate, stuck his bad leg out, rested his head on the knee of his good leg and let the tears spring to his eyes.
A soft whining sound had him looking over his shoulder. Draco had approached as close as he could get with the bars of the crate between them. Looking as woeful as Curtis felt, the dog hung his head and whined again.
“Now you’re sorry?” Gazing at the dog’s despondent demeanor, Curtis was certain that he was.
Heck, if that crab had been an enemy combatant, then Draco had done the job he was trained to do and eliminated the threat.
“It’s not your fault,” he realized. As the ramifications occurred to him a second time, he shook off his self-pity and struggled to his feet. If he wanted to come back here—and he did—he would need to convince first Mr. Kuzinsky and then his mom that the dog was blameless.
R USTY WAS JUST heading to the kitchen to cast an eye at the marsh when Curtis pushed his way inside, visibly limping.
His gaze dropped to the kid’s blood-soaked sock, and he knew without even seeing the puncture wounds that Draco had bit him. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, before recalling the need to temper his language.
“It wasn’t his fault.” The kid’s voice cracked. He fought to keep from crying. “He thought I was taking a crab from him, but I was just trying to keep it from pinching him.”
In his mind’s eye, Rusty had a clear picture of the way it had gone down.
“Sit,” he ordered, sliding one of the chairs from the farm table behind Curtis’s knees. “Let’s see how bad it is,” he added, tackling Curtis’s tennis shoe before the boy had fully sat down. He pulled it off as gently as he could, engendering a hiss of pain. Peeling the sock just over Curtis’s heel, he took in the three deep puncture wounds with mounting dismay.
His hopes for a date on the beach with Maya went up in a cloud of smoke.
Damn it . He should have seen this coming. To be honest, he had seen it coming but he’d been so blinded by his desire to pull Maya closer that he’d disregarded the risk to her son. And like any proper mother, she had every right to defend her cub, forbidding Curtis to care for the dog from here on. Rusty would be lucky if she even spoke to him again. He hoped to God he wasn’t looking at a lawsuit.
“It’s not too bad.” He spoke the words any wounded man wanted to hear.
“Don’t tell my mom, or she won’t let me come back here.”
The kid’s concerns mirrored his own. “I hear you, but you can’t hide this from her. Let’s clean you up first so it doesn’t get infected.”
“We don’t have to tell her,” the boy continued with surprising insistence. “Please, I want to come back. It wasn’t Draco’s fault. He was doing what he’d been trained to do.”
It was the sheen of tears in Curtis’s eyes that caused Rusty to waver. They could, perhaps, get away with cleaning the wound really well and then hiding it with a fresh pair of socks. She might be none the wiser.
“I don’t know, son. You’re mom’s a smart woman. She’s bound to find out.” He realized he’d be a fool to try and deceive her.
“Well, don’t call her yet,” Curtis pleaded. “She has an important case this morning. She’s too busy to get away.” He wiped an errant tear away with the ball of his fist.
Rusty had to
With his hands still on the crate, Curtis looked down at his ankle. Blood pulsed from the puncture wounds. As he pulled his sock higher to cover the holes and slow the bleeding, it occurred to him that what had happened was a game changer. His mom was going to freak out. She wouldn’t let him come here anymore, which meant that he’d have nothing to do for the rest of the summer and he wouldn’t be making any money.
Self-pity overwhelmed him suddenly. His ankle hurt too much to put any weight on it. So he sat right there on the grass next to Draco’s crate, stuck his bad leg out, rested his head on the knee of his good leg and let the tears spring to his eyes.
A soft whining sound had him looking over his shoulder. Draco had approached as close as he could get with the bars of the crate between them. Looking as woeful as Curtis felt, the dog hung his head and whined again.
“Now you’re sorry?” Gazing at the dog’s despondent demeanor, Curtis was certain that he was.
Heck, if that crab had been an enemy combatant, then Draco had done the job he was trained to do and eliminated the threat.
“It’s not your fault,” he realized. As the ramifications occurred to him a second time, he shook off his self-pity and struggled to his feet. If he wanted to come back here—and he did—he would need to convince first Mr. Kuzinsky and then his mom that the dog was blameless.
R USTY WAS JUST heading to the kitchen to cast an eye at the marsh when Curtis pushed his way inside, visibly limping.
His gaze dropped to the kid’s blood-soaked sock, and he knew without even seeing the puncture wounds that Draco had bit him. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, before recalling the need to temper his language.
“It wasn’t his fault.” The kid’s voice cracked. He fought to keep from crying. “He thought I was taking a crab from him, but I was just trying to keep it from pinching him.”
In his mind’s eye, Rusty had a clear picture of the way it had gone down.
“Sit,” he ordered, sliding one of the chairs from the farm table behind Curtis’s knees. “Let’s see how bad it is,” he added, tackling Curtis’s tennis shoe before the boy had fully sat down. He pulled it off as gently as he could, engendering a hiss of pain. Peeling the sock just over Curtis’s heel, he took in the three deep puncture wounds with mounting dismay.
His hopes for a date on the beach with Maya went up in a cloud of smoke.
Damn it . He should have seen this coming. To be honest, he had seen it coming but he’d been so blinded by his desire to pull Maya closer that he’d disregarded the risk to her son. And like any proper mother, she had every right to defend her cub, forbidding Curtis to care for the dog from here on. Rusty would be lucky if she even spoke to him again. He hoped to God he wasn’t looking at a lawsuit.
“It’s not too bad.” He spoke the words any wounded man wanted to hear.
“Don’t tell my mom, or she won’t let me come back here.”
The kid’s concerns mirrored his own. “I hear you, but you can’t hide this from her. Let’s clean you up first so it doesn’t get infected.”
“We don’t have to tell her,” the boy continued with surprising insistence. “Please, I want to come back. It wasn’t Draco’s fault. He was doing what he’d been trained to do.”
It was the sheen of tears in Curtis’s eyes that caused Rusty to waver. They could, perhaps, get away with cleaning the wound really well and then hiding it with a fresh pair of socks. She might be none the wiser.
“I don’t know, son. You’re mom’s a smart woman. She’s bound to find out.” He realized he’d be a fool to try and deceive her.
“Well, don’t call her yet,” Curtis pleaded. “She has an important case this morning. She’s too busy to get away.” He wiped an errant tear away with the ball of his fist.
Rusty had to
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