Picking Up The Pieces

34. A Gift Of Treatment

   I opened my eyes in shock when I felt something jump on my stomach, and I lurched forward on my bed. I reached out to grab one of my knives from my nightstand, but I only felt empty air. I closed my eyes, calming my heart down. My room in my house, not my small area on the Milano.

I looked back at the heavy mass on me, and Harley wagged her tail. "Hey, Harley," I smiled at the staffie, and the dog's tail wagged faster. "C'mon, let's go get you some food." Harley barked happily and jumped off my bed, taking a victory lap around my room before racing out my door.

I, however, stayed put, looking in the corner of my room where Peter had fallen asleep on my barrel couch. He had insisted on making sure I was safe before leaving to go back to his home, but once he sat down on the chair, he fell asleep. I guess he woke up during the night and left so May wouldn't freak.

That's when the smile hit my face. I was home, back in New York, and Peter was close by. And that's when the smile fell a little. I was home. Back to trying to stop Hawkes and saving people I had once known.

I slid my legs out from my bed, fixing the sheets before opening up my closet. All of my clothes from when I was at Peter's was hung nicely, shoes at the bottom. He had done so much for me in the time I had known him, and all I had given him in return was two months of fear and panic.

It seemed like I was just going through the motions; putting on outdoor clothes, pouring dog food into Harley's bowl before grabbing a leash off a coatrack. The staffie was so obedient, sitting down by my feet and allowing me to attach the leash to her collar. "Let's go on a walk, shall we?"

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"Thank you," I smiled as I handed cash to a baked goods vender, and she smiled back as she traded me a small cannoli. I carefully took a bite, making sure none of the cream would fall on the ground. Harley yipped happily, jumping every once and a while by my side as we walked on a sidewalk in Astoria Park. About ten yards away was a playground, and children of different ages were playing around it. A young couple had their hands clasped to one another, laughing at a joke one of them had said. It was a walk like this I needed, something peaceful.

I was so wrapped in my peaceful euphoria that my grip on Harley's leash loosened, and the puppy took advantage of the opportunity and ran. Peter was right, she was a troublemaker.

"Harley!" I hissed, and I quickly stuffed the rest of my cannoli in my mouth and raced after her. The staffie sprinted away in glee, her paws making light noises against the concrete as she dashed around bikes and pedestrians. I followed close behind, dodging others and even hurdling over a Chihuahua. "Excuse me! Pardon me, sorry! Harley!"

"I got her!" I heard a male voice call out, and he dashed across the park's lawn and grabbed the leash. Harley pulled to a stop, and I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Thank you so much," I said to the man as he passed me Harley's leash. "I wasn't paying attention to my grip, but I'm so thankful- wait. Dad?"

"You know, a hug is better than a thank you," my father smirked as he peered over the tip of his glasses, causing me to grin. "Nice, by the way. And I'm guessing those are color contacts?" Harley barked, and my dad looked down at her and scratched behind her ears. "Cute mutt."

"Her name is Harley," I told him, and she barked in agreement. "Peter found her while I was... away. And no, not color contacts." My father's eyes widened slightly as he glanced down at my metal arm. "A lot has changed within the past months."

"You're telling me," my dad commented, his eyes not leaving my shoulder, right where the metal star was.

"Dad..."