After he exhausted his pee reserve, I walked Not Brent back toward the building, hoping to sneak in before Mrs. Mets saw and figured out I still had a dog stashed in my apartment. We passed the small makeshift parking lot at the back of the building and I scowled at the empty spot where a few hours earlier Broadrick's bike had sat next to my car.
He'd definitely gone then.
I locked Not Brent safely in my apartment with a bowl of food and a chewy treat to keep him busy. It was only a four-hour shift at the bakery, a fill-in spot to help with orders, but I didn't like to leave him alone for long periods. What if he grew bored and opened the fridge and had a feast? Or chewed off a door?
I'd never had a dog before and wasn't really sure what they were capable of, but I knew I didn't want
