Damaged Read Online Free Page B

through the dim parkade to her car. It was 8:35 p.m. She bet that Alaska was starving and upset by now. She threw her briefcase onto the backseat of her four-year-old Toyota sedan and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life. She gripped the wheel tightly, weaving her way slowly through the near-empty parkade to the street.
    It was dark, but it was a Friday night and Haligonians had spring fever even if the weather didn’t. She was scared she’d hit some drunken university student celebrating the end of exams at the pubs connecting every street corner. So she crawled through the downtown core, her nerves on edge. She turned up Spring Garden Road, its bright, alluring storefronts swarming with Halifax’s hippest.
    She gritted her teeth in frustration at the pedestrians crossing the street willy-nilly in the dark. Did they have a death wish? It was only after she drove through the intersection of South Park Street that she relaxed. She was almost home. Her neighborhood bordered Hollis University, a pretty, leafy area in the south end of the city with century-old houses.
    Drizzle sent little streams of wet scurrying across the windshield. It would rain soon. She hoped it would hold off until Alaska had been out in the yard. It was bad enough having a white carpet of husky fur all over her house, but it was even worse when it was wet and smelled of dog.
    Five minutes later, she turned down her street. She pulled into her driveway. The house was shrouded in darkness. She’d forgotten to replace the burned-out porch light. Again. A street lamp illuminated the skeletal branches of a tall maple that waved disconcertingly around her opaque upstairs windows.
    A familiar disquiet churned her stomach. Stop it. It will be different in the summer. When it’s still light at 9:00 p.m. and the trees are green.
    The thought didn’t help her symbol of success feel any homier. Why couldn’t she revel in the satisfaction of new ownership? Irritated with herself, she threw open her car door. Her house loomed over her. A movement flashed in the picture window.
    She grabbed her briefcase and raced up the walk. Furious scrabbling on the wooden floor announced her arrival as she unlocked the heavy oak door.
    “Hey, boy!”
    With an excited whine, the pure-white husky threw himself against Kate. He was the only reason her house could claim to be a home. She hadn’t realized it until he’d moved in.
    She knelt down and buried her face in his soft fur. The dog licked her hand, then danced in circles down the hallway. There didn’t appear to be a paper trail this evening. It never ceased to amuse her that she, a lawyer, would be the owner of a dog who seemed obsessed with leaving one, usually comprised of toilet paper but sometimes home decorating magazines. She followed the husky through the kitchen. And winced when she saw the puddle on the linoleum floor.
    She cleaned up the mess, wishing she could wash away her guilt as easily. Now that she was on the TransTissue file, there would be many more evenings like this. She’d have to figure out something for this dog who’d adopted her. He gazed up at her, happiness in his blue gaze. Guilt stabbed harder. She scratched behind his ears. “Let’s go for a walk.”
    His eager tail wagging lifted her spirits. Her dog’s simple pleasures had become hers in less than a week. “Give me one more minute, boy,” she called, bounding up the worn walnut staircase. She pulled off her work clothes, throwing them on the bed, and changed into track pants and a fleece-lined rain jacket. Alaska whined below.
    “I’m coming!” She ran down the stairs, snatching the last apple from the fruit bowl. The husky bounced around her heels while she attached his leash.
    “We’re just going around the block,” she warned him as they stepped outside. “We both need supper.” Alaska’s tail thumped a Morse code of agreement.
    Drizzle fell onto her head. She forced herself not to pull up her hood.