Forget Me Not

Chapter 12

CHAPTER

TWELVE

ARIS

The smirk on Berlynn’s face should’ve been my first indication that she was up to something sly when she gave me the address to our destination. Immediately, as we pull into the driveway, I know that she’s taken us to a breeder of some sort. Berk is bouncing in his seat as he listens to music on his iPod, unaware that he’s fixing to meet a furry friend.

I thought for sure that once he saw the outside kennels when we got him out of the car that he’d clue in, but he’s oblivious and didn’t even argue with us when we insisted he use his chair. He’s too excited about learning what his sister has gotten him.

“Is this a trainer or will we have to hire someone to do all of that for us once we get the dog home?” I lean over Berk and whisper. He’s still scanning the area, unaware of the conversation happening around him.

A small smile forms on her lips as she answers me. “She's a trainer. Kelly specializes in medical and protection dogs. This one we're picking up had an instant reaction and connection to Burk's scent. She thinks he'll be a perfect fit for him. We're going to take him overnight as a test run and see how everything goes.”

“Is he house trained?” I ask.

“That was my first question posed to her and she promised me that he is one-hundred percent house trained. My concern was for the integrity of your furniture. She guaranteed me that we had nothing to worry about, Aris.”

“I'm not worried about my furniture. It’s materialistic and replaceable. As long as Berk's happy and taken care of, that's all that matters to me. Fuck knows he deserves it. I hope this works out. He's been wanting a dog for himself and that’s all he’s been able to talk about for the last week or so whenever we’ve had time to catch up. I know you've done your research and have asked all of the appropriate questions. I'm not worried about it, I swear.”

“I am,” she counters. “Everything looks expensive and custom. I know we’ve gotten our inheritance, or soon will have it in our accounts, but I’d like to save it. You never know what’s going to come up that we’ll need to dip into and use, so I’m keeping it for a rainy day.”

That reminds me, I need to make sure their accounts are impenetrable and Marcus can’t bypass the system or grease any palms in order to get his filthy hands on their funds. I wouldn’t put it past him to blackmail the bank manager and end up with their account details so he can withdraw it all. The fact that he’s such a slimeball that he’d steal from his own kids still baffles me. Parents, good parents that is, protect their kids from anything that could potentially harm them.

I make a mental note to pull Kayson to the side and have his team start working on that before the money is released to them. Which will be happening in the next seven to ten days according to the last email I received from their conservator—my father. Why he had to send it via email instead of just telling me in person is stupefying. We see each other on a daily basis for fuck’s sake. I guess if I think about it, I’ll ask him, but it’s not a priority outside of making sure their money is protected from their father.

The very second Berk is up and over the ramp, a dog inside goes batshit crazy. The pitiful whining has my head snapping up toward the window and I chuckle when I see, who I’m presuming to be the trainer, struggling to pull a German Shepard puppy back from the window. A puppy, that when he gets older, is going to be gigantic if the paws he has are a hint to what his true size will be.

“Holy shitballs!” Berk bellows, clapping his hands. “Is he mine, Berlynn?” As he asks his sister this, he begins bouncing around in his seat—exuberantly.

“That’s your baby, Berk,” Berlynn whispers, choking up. “Wanna go inside and meet him?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” he chants, looking up at the two of us with pleading eyes. “Now… please.” When he remembers to tack on the please at the end to not sound so rude and entitled, we both end up laughing at his sudden remembrance at using his manners. We may be his family, but we still deserve to receive his respect. There’s a time to be playful and then there’s a time one should be humble. The four of us may have been born with silver spoons in our mouths but watching the McKinny elders and the way they flaunted their wealth to those who didn’t have that same luxury, we knew we’d always do our utmost best to be courteous to others—especially toward one another.

Nostalgia hits me that this is my best friend from back in the day. Not the one I went to college with, or even high school, but the one who acts the same way he did when we were in our prepubescent stage. In a way, he’s a man, but in others, he’s not.

It’s fun, but at the same time, it’s disheartening. Reliving our glory years is one thing, regressing is on another spectrum altogether. I find myself clenching my fists that the future he saw for himself was stolen from him.

I do have to admit that at times, I miss them both and wish there was a way we could mesh the two diverse personalities together and mold them into a new version of Berkley. Turn him into the grown man he was destined to become. I saw a hint of the man today when he talked about his hospital liaison. A conversation that I was both pleased to hear about but shuddered when it came to being his confidant as well. The bro code won’t let me tattle on him to Berlynn, I respect him too much to break his trust in me, but the other side of me wants to make sure she is aware so she can supply him with a lifetime of condoms since we have no clue about this woman he’s taken with and if she’s on any form of birth control.

I’m not sure if he has the wherewithal to consider or ask such questions. I know she made him feel special, like a man, not an invalid which is what he’s been searching for, from what I gather during our talks, since the moment he opened his eyes from being in a coma.

A woman tugging open the door, holding back an eager pup, breathing heavily, and saying, “Welcome,” hauls me out from my nerve-wrecking contemplations. It’s a damn good thing too because I have a feeling I was about to bury myself inside of a rabbit hole.

“Thanks for having us, Kelly,” Berlynn responds. “This is my brother, Berkley, and our lifelong friend, Aris. He’s the one I told you we were staying with.”

“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” I say, sticking my hand out to shake hers.

Kelly shakes my hand then nods. “Thanks for coming. As you can tell, Tracker is anxious to meet Berkley.”

“He is?” Berk asks, his eyes wide and bewildered. “He knows about me?”

“He sure does,” Kelly answers with a giggle. “Your sister sent me one of your shirts with your scent on it. Tracker’s been sleeping with it at night and crying out for you. Which is why your sister and I thought it was time for you two to officially meet.”

“She did? Thanks, sis,” Berkley states, his voice trembling which tells me this means more to him than he’s allowed us to know. “I’ve been hoping and praying that we’d find a service dog to help me. May I see him now? Please?” Again, that last minute reminder has a smile lifting the corner of my lips.

“Absolutely! Come get settled. I made sure all of his commands were taught to him in English instead of the standard Russian or German ones. He’s usually better behaved than he’s acting now, I’m sorry that he’s coming across as excitable. I promise, he has manners and usually isn’t so jumpy.”

“He’s just happy to see me,” Berk says, defending the pup.

“I believe you’re right about that. I have a feeling once he’s been petted by you, he’ll settle right down,” Kelly concurs, encouraging us to take a seat in her living area with a wave of her hand toward the settee. “I printed out his commands for you to learn and take home with you. You have to promise me, Berk, that you’re going to work with him every day and make sure he follows the rules you set forth for him. He’s a smart boy, but consistency is the key to make sure he stays on task and does everything he’s been trained to do.”

“I will, I promise,” Berk avows, leaning down and wiggling his fingers.

“Tell him to come, Berk,” Kelly advises. “Then tell him to sit and mind.” In fascination, I watch as Berk does as she said and the dog, Tracker, obediently does as instructed. “You can ask for his paw by commanding him to shake.”

“Shake,” Berk directs and Tracker’s tongue lolls to the side as he lifts his large paw. I’m not sure who’s more delighted by this union, Tracker or Berk. Both of their eyes are alight in utter ecstasy. “You’re a good boy, Tracker.”

“Now that you’ve praised him for a job well done, you give him a treat to encourage him to keep doing good,” Kelly instructs as she whips out a milk bone from her top pocket and passes it over to Berk. “I have a bag of dog food and a sack of treats bagged for you to take home until you can get to the store and stock up. He eats a lot, one cup every morning and night. Don’t over feed him or he’ll get fat and lazy.” When she says that, Berk and I laugh.

For the next hour Kelly goes over instructions for Tracker’s care, gives us coupons for his dry and wet food, and advises us of the best places we can go for his other supplies.

When we leave, I’m not sure who’s wagging their tail end more. The dog or my best friend. But no matter who it is, they both appear to be living the dream.

Sitting out by the pool, grilling steaks, I watch as Berk tosses a tennis ball into the yard for Tracker to fetch. The giggles from my girl and the laughter from Berk fills the night air. For the first time since I purchased this place, it feels like a home instead of a house.

The last time I was here, it felt like nothing more than walls and foundation surrounding me. A place I came to long enough to shower, work out, and close my eyes. I didn’t long for the day to end so I could come here and relax. But now, I’m dreading Monday morning because I’ll have to leave the two of them. But I know that once the work day has concluded, I’ll be rushing to get back here—to them.

I worry about Berlynn now that she’s jobless thanks to the evilness of her dad, she’ll need to find something to do to fill the empty time that was usually occupied by teaching the next hopeful Olympian gymnast.

Then a thought occurs to me, and I ask, “What are your plans for Monday, Berlynn?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” she remarks. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

“While Berk is at the hospital, why don’t you come with me to the office? I have a few things I’ve been researching when it comes to… you know who.” I purposefully don’t mention their dad because it upsets Berk and with the calm he has right now, I don’t want to ruin it for him by causing him to shut down. “I could use some of your input on my thoughts and findings.”

“Okay. What time do we need to leave here? Mrs. Crockett is coming to get Berk at seven that morning, so after that, I’m all yours.” The “I’m all yours” part of her sentence has me shifting on my feet and turning back to the barbeque grill to hide my erection from her. She has no clue what those words mean to me. Most likely something completely different than they do to her—for now.

“I have to be at the office by nine so we’ll leave here around eight,” I convey.

“I’ll be ready,” she says.

Not yet, but you will be, I think to myself. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.