52
I woke the next morning to my doorbell ringing. I ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. It rang again. I continued to ignore it. A moment later, someone was knocking on my bedroom door. Instinctively, I rolled out of bed and drew a pistol I kept next to my nightstand.
“Don’t shoot! It’s me.” Jake stood in the doorway, holding a golden retriever puppy on a leash. Rodeo stood next to him.
I put away the g*n and ran a hand through my hair. “What are you two doing in my house? With a dog?”
Rodeo beckoned me with his hand. “Come on. You’ll see.”
I followed them into my living room. My parents were arranging stacks of wrapped presents around a hastily set up Christmas tree. Rodeo’s seven-year-old daughter, Gwyneth, and Reggie were helping decorating the tree with lights and or
