May in December Read Online Free

slammed the door shut and followed Tabitha into the apartment.
    Once inside, the warmth hit Jorry, and he rubbed out the pins-and-needles feeling from his hands and fingers. Afterward, he reached in his pocket, drew out a fast-food napkin, and blew his dripping nose. “Ahhh. That’s better.” He walked into the kitchen alcove, and colored paper turkeys hung on the refrigerator, no doubt the artwork of Tabitha’s four children. He flinched when she banged a bowl and spoon down on the snack bar.
    “How many times do I have to tell you my couch is always open?”
    “I know, but I didn’t get off from work until two o’clock this morning.” Jorry pushed the sleeves up on his hoodie and sat on a stool. He was still tired and wasn’t in the mood to bicker. “There’s no way I was going to knock on your door and wake you and the kids up at that hour.”
    “Come on, Jor. In this day and age, it’s too dangerous to sleep in your car. Not to mention how cold it’s gonna get.”
    “At least I have a car to sleep in,” Jorry said. “Everything I own is inside, including my grandma’s ashes. It’s my home. For now.”
    Tabitha’s features softened. “Hon, I know. I worry about you. But this job at the Dawg Haus isn’t kosher, and you know it.” With what Jorry presumed was motherly concern, Tabitha clasped her hand over his wrist and gently squeezed. “You’re worn-out, and don’t think that hoodie of yours is hiding your weight loss.”
    Jorry huffed his best manly grunt and waved her off. “I’ll survive and be better for it.”
    “Here.” Tabitha poured boiling water in a cup filled with instant cocoa. “Drink this and go take your shower. I’ll make some stick-to-your-ribs oatmeal.”
    “Will you doctor it up with butter and lots of brown sugar?”
    Tabitha nodded. “I’ll use the whole damn bag if it makes you happy.”
    Feeling much older than his twenty-three years, Jorry snatched up his duffel bag and padded down the short hallway into the small bathroom. He stripped and, within minutes, was under the hot, cleansing spray. After a good soap up, including scrubbing gingerly across his new bruises, he wearily pressed his head against the shower wall and watched the swirl of watery bubbles run down the drain, carrying with them the surface sweat of four days’ work.
    Wish my problems would wash away like that.
    He snorted off the self-pity as he grabbed the shampoo and lathered his head up. In the grand scheme of things, circumstances could be worse. In fact, after his grandmother had died, it had been worse. His mother, drunk or high all the time, had brought home a different man every other night. If he was lucky, those men treated him either with indifference or as a punching bag. Sometimes, when his mother was passed out, they would come into his bedroom and…
    Jorry shook his head. Time to change my mind to a different station . Too bad the next channel was worse than the first one.
    Visions of how far he had fallen from his lofty goal of becoming a veterinarian washed over him. He had truly thought the job at the Dawg Haus was legit, and he’d felt blessed he was hired without a high school diploma. Then Pickworth W. Johnson III had acquired the struggling business and brought it under the umbrella of his other pet-care enterprises, turning the dog-care business into a front for illegal activity.
    Jorry closed his eyes, wishing for the images to vanish, but they only came on stronger, in 3-D gory detail—the drugs he was forced to sell while delivering the dogs from their walks, the times he was made to sell his body under orders of the boss, the bruises and abrasions he received from clients or Todd when he failed to please or argued about his involuntary participation with the illegal activities. Thank the gods, he hadn’t had anything to do with Pickworth’s other illegal doings. Yet.
    “Stop it!” Jorry’s harsh whisper rose above the sound of the shower spray. “I’m vowing my