Rhys
“Dad? Dad? Daaaad!”
I yanked my attention off a grazing Butterball at Hannah’s voice. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been calling you forever.” She flounced down the hill from the chicken coop.
“Sorry.” I’d been in my head a lot all week. They had to call for me at least three times before I answered. What a present dad.
“I think Goldie’s sick.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. What the fuck had the dog eaten now? It could be anything—or nothing. “Okay. Let’s go look at her.”
“She’s been horcking. Bethany’s with her.”
“Horcking?”
“Yeah, you know.” She made a heaving sound that really did sound like “horck.” Shit.
She took off and I followed. Bethany came into view first. The dog became visible just before I heard the horck get louder and wetter.
“Dad!” Bethany spun and sprinted, stopping when she saw me. “She threw up. It’s bloody!”
Aw, hell. The girls had been learning about the circle of life since we’d had our own place, and before that, they’d been exposed to ranch life. But Goldie was a pet. She wasn’t being raised to sell or be sold for meat.
The retriever licked her chops and what sounded like a groan or a loud burp echoed from her ribs.
I patted her droopy head and inspected the pile of vomit. It was hard to tell what was under the pink foam, but I spied enough material that didn’t look like dog food to think that Goldie had munched on something she shouldn’t have. A bad habit she’d had since she was a puppy.
“Did I feed her too late?” Bethany blinked back tears.
I checked my watch. June would arrive soon for the guitar lesson. Maybe I could call her and she’d come earlier. It’d been a long fucking week without her. The first of many long weeks without her in my bed, under the same roof, or even in the same damn state. I’d have to hide like I had the last time she’d played at the Montana State Fair.
I hefted Goldie. She whined. Her tongue lolled out and she panted. Her sides felt hard. Goddamn, I hoped she was okay. The girls were adjusting to saying goodbye to their mom and to June. They didn’t need a forever goodbye with the dog.
The girls followed me. Hannah ran into the house tograb a blanket and Bethany helped me get Goldie situated in the back. She started heaving again. The pickup had seen worse body fluids with the other animals on this farm. A little vomit would be nothing, and the vet might be happy I came with a sample.
I called June once the dog was situated.
“Hey.” Her sultry voice filled the line, happy to hear from me.
The punch to my gut was strong. Weening off her wasn’t working so well. “Hey. Can you come a little early and hang with the girls? I’ve gotta get the dog to the vet.” After I called Dr. Sanders and got his standard warning about the emergency charge. This wasn’t Goldie’s first rodeo.
Dad had cared for his animals, but he would’ve ridden out Goldie’s many self-induced stomach issues. I couldn’t. The girls loved their dog and seeing her suffer was too much if there was something I could do about it.
“Yeah,” June said. “I’ll be right there.”
She must have been at the cabin. Less than ten minutes later, she pulled in. I drank her in. Her hair was in a long ponytail, the kind I liked to wrap around my hand when I was thrusting into her. She got out and I soaked in her long legs and the way her loose camisole bared her guitar-playing toned arms. Every cell in my body missed her and it’d only been six fucking days since I’d left the cabin for the last time.
She jogged up to me, and I fought my natural inclination to reach for her, to give her a kiss as a greeting, and to tell her that I was worried about my kids and the dog.
“How are the girls?” she asked.
“Scared.” I double-checked that the girls were behind me. “Our last retriever got into the neighbor’s rat poison.”
She grimaced. “Sick pets are so hard on everyone. Daddy always said he still owed working animals his best attempt at help, but he also had a ton of kids watching him.”
“Thanks for coming.”
