He nods. “We need to do a myelogram to locate the exact disc. While we do that, you’ll need to fill out some paperwork about Sky, and then we’ll get her prepped for surgery.”
“Of course. Whatever she needs.”
I don’t care if I have to sell one of my own kidneys to pay for this. My sweet Sky is going to make it through this.
Chapter Eighteen
Alison
Sky’s beenin surgery for nearly two hours. The longer we wait, the more Ben’s foot seems to tap nervously on the floor. And when he’s not doing that, he’s pacing. I wish I knew what to say to ease his worry, but I’ve never been in this situation. I’ve lost pets before, but they were at the end of their little lives. Sky, well, I don’t know how old she is, but I’m sure she’s not at that age yet. Maybe I just need to try talking to Ben again.
“How old is Sky?”
“Huh?” Ben stops walking in front of me. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” He really is distracted.
“I asked you how old Sky was.”
“Oh.” He smiles. “Well, they thought she was about one and a half when I found her, so two and a half.”
“She’s young.” I smile up at him. “That’s good.”
“Is it?”
I pat the seat next to me, hoping he’ll take the hint and sit back down. His pacing is making me nervous. When he does, I reach out and touch his hand. “It’s good. She’s young. She’ll bounce back quicker that way.”
“If she makes it.”
“She’ll make it.”
He turns to face me, his expression a combination of worry and hope. “Do you really think so?”
“I do.” When his hand slides out from beneath mine and flips over, I watch as he moves it back until our fingers are intertwined.
“Thank you for being here, Alison. I’d be half out of my mind without someone here.”
Someone?Anyone?
Why do I want him to say he’s gladI’mhere, not justanyone?
I’m seeing a different side to Ben Schilling. This one is sweet, compassionate, and, best of all, an animal lover. The last one is the most important because it says a lot about a person—more than all the work gossip in the world can convey. But now that I think about it, everyone I’ve talked to about Ben has all said the same thing: “He’s a good guy.”
Well, now I’ve seen it for myself. Ben Schillingisa good guy. No, scratch that. He’s agreatguy.
“Mr. and Mrs. Schilling?”
I look up as a young woman steps out from a set of doors that lead to the back where the surgery’s taking place. I had to think about what she just said for a second.Mr. and Mrs. Schilling.I start to laugh, but when I feel Ben’s hand take mine and squeeze hard, I know this isn’t a joke, nor is it about me.
“Yes?” Ben says, leaning forward in his chair.
She steps closer to where we’re sitting. “Hello. I’m Dr. Ackerman.”
“Hi,” Ben says quickly. “How is she?”
“We’re just finishing up.”
Ben’s practically falling forward he’s leaning in so much. “And?”
“And”—the young woman smiles—“Sky did great.”
