Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 552

Arthur and Archer managed to dig up a leftover box of fireworks from last year out of one of the storage sheds. Olive sprinted to the front, grabbed a sparkler, and started running wildly around the yard.

Nora stood under the porch awning, holding Hudson’s hand as she looked up. The first firework shot into the sky with a sharp whistle, exploding into a brilliant burst of gold and red.

“That was you!”

“It wasn't me, Archer, you idiot! It was definitely you!”

“Nuh-uh, it was you!”

“Damn it!” Olive furiously rolled up her sleeves, looking ready to throw punches.

Arthur rubbed his temples and stepped between them, trying to separate the two. But they were both so fired up that poor Arthur ended up catching stray hits from both sides.

“I know there’s a picture! I’m gonna go get it!” Archer suddenly remembered, spinning around and bolting for the house.

“Go get it then! Who’s scared of you?!”

When Archer returned with an old photo album, Nora walked over to join the fun.

The photos inside were heavily aged. There were pictures of Arthur, Archer, and Olive from when they were awkward teenagers, all the way up to a group shot from last year.

Every photo had been perfectly preserved.

She flipped through the pages one by one. Watching these familiar faces grow from teenagers into adults, seeing their moments of laughter permanently captured on film, gave her a strange, warm sense of familiarity.

Olive, possessing the attention span of a goldfish, had already lost interest in the album and dragged Arthur off to light bottle rockets.

Right then, Nora’s hand stopped turning the page.

It was a picture of a younger Archer posing next to a massive German Shepherd.

The dog in the photo was huge, its black fur so glossy it looked as though it had been washed in moonlight. It sat proudly by Archer’s feet, its gaze sharp and intensely alert.

But its left ear was missing a chunk. The cut was clean, as though it had been bitten completely off, leaving a permanent, distinct shape.

Nora’s heart skipped a beat.

“Archer, this dog...”

Archer leaned over and glanced at the page. “Oh, that’s Bane’s mother. Her name was Scrappy.”

“Scrappy?” Nora’s voice tightened, feeling as though an invisible hand had wrapped gently around her throat. “Who... who named her?”

Archer scratched his head, thinking back. “The Boss did. Because she was missing a chunk of her ear, he just gave her a name that was easy to remember.”

Nora’s fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the photograph.

Something gently struck her heart. It wasn't a heavy blow, but it made her breath catch for a split second.

She remembered that dog.

Many years ago, in a run-down alleyway in Northampton, she had found a wounded German Shepherd.

It had a missing chunk in its left ear and was covered in dirt. It had been cowering by a dumpster, shaking violently with its tail tucked between its legs, terrified of anyone who came near.

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