And someone’s heart to break.
Maybe that’s exaggerating the situation, or maybe it’s not. I’m not blind to the way Jerry looks at me sometimes. He’s going to be hurt that I’ve not told him when I’ve known for a few days now. And probably upset that I’m potentially moving out sooner than either of us expected.
Upset, like you are.
Yeah, like I am. But I’m still going to do it.And it might take months to find somewhere I like.But I need to tell him, and I’m not going to enjoy one second of it.
I’m halfway through making dinner when my phone rings.
It’s six forty-five, so when Jerry’s name flashes on the screen, I know it’s not going to be for anything good.
“Hey,” I say when I answer the call.
“Hey.” He sounds wrecked with just that one word and my heart drops to my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fuck.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other end, and the sound of clothes rustling. I imagine him closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. “We’ve got an emergency coming in. A cat and kittens. Apparently some fucker thought it’d be fun to use them as target practice with an air rifle.”
I’ve never heard him sound so hard and bitter, but considering the subject matter, I don’t blame him. “Oh my god,” I whisper, horrified. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he sighs again. “A few of the local kids found them and one of the mothers is bringing them in now. I don’t know how bad it is, but we’re all staying until...” He pauses and I don’t need him to fill in the rest. “We’re staying.” He repeats. “So I’m going to be late for dinner.”
“That’s okay,” I say softly, wishing more than anything that I could wrap my arms around him and give him a hug. “I’ll be here whenever you get home.”
He ends the call, and fuck, there is absolutely no way I’m telling him tonight.
I finish cooking dinner on autopilot, the despair in Jerry’s voice on repeat in my head. I’ve made way too much food, and as I stare at it, I get an idea.
Probably a terrible idea, but it’s in my head now and I can’t unthink it.
I spend the next five minutes dividing the lasagne I’ve made into individual plastic containers and then set off for the vets.
I park out the front of the clinic, the parking spaces free at this time of night.
Fairy lights decorate the reception area, and through the window I can just make out tinsel strung up along the ceilingand a small tree. It looks deserted, and I guess they’re essentially closed for the night. I send Jerry a text.
Reed: Hey, I’m outside. Have you got five minutes?
I don’t know if he’ll be too busy to answer, so I settle in for a long wait. Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Jerry: Sorry. I only just saw this, are you still here?
Reed: Yeah, I’m still here.
Five minutes later the door opens and Jerry appears. His hair is all over the place, like he’s run his hands through it a million times, and he looks exhausted, but... he looks happier than I was expecting. That’s got to be a good sign, right?
I get out of the car and meet him halfway. We stare at each other for half a second, then I tug him towards me and he all but falls into me. His arms wrap round me in a vice hold and he lets out the deepest sigh.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, the words almost lost into the side of my neck where his head is buried, but I hear them loud and clear.
I hug him tighter. “I am too.”
I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I have no intention of letting go until Jerry’s ready.
When he finally releases me, he doesn’t go far. “What are you doing here,” he asks, finally realising it’s a little odd for me to have come down here.
I swallow back the warnings old me would’ve been clinging to and tell him the truth, because I can’t not with the way he’s looking at me. “I was worried about you. I thought you could maybe use a hug, and I wanted to be the one to give it to you.”
