I slip on my boots, the worn leather creaking as I tug them on. The familiar scent of dirt and old leather grounds me.
“You know, I don’t remember you ever giving Wes this much trouble when he came to help you last fall.”
Wes snorts. “He gave me plenty of trouble. I just didn’t cook much.”
I huff out an exasperated breath and slam the screen door closed behind me.
I drive Pops to the rehab center forty miles away and am pleasantly surprised that his mood has improved tenfold since this morning. I have no idea whether Wes threatened him or if he’s just happy to be out of the house, but I’ll take it either way. I’d started considering putting horse tranquilizers into his morning coffee to get him to stop being a miserable ass.
When Pops heads back with the physical therapist, I settle into a chair to wait. I slide my finger across the screen of my phone, grateful to be somewhere with more than two bars of service and Wi-Fi.
It’s the little things.
My email inbox has gathered plenty of junk mail since I last checked it. I sift through, deleting all the junk—why the hell am I getting so many ads for male enhancement supplements?
Once those are in the trash, I’m left with three unread emails: one from my favorite shoe store with a subject line screaming FINAL SALE, one from my mom, probably gently probing about any new job prospects, and one from the animal clinic I did my residency at in Denver.
My stomach flips. I hover over the message for a second, then finally tap it open.
It’s from my mentor, Dr. Kroychek—short, sweet, and to the point, just like the woman herself.
We’re in need of another vet with emergency and critical care experience, and I remember that’s your specialty. Let me know if you’re on the market, and we can talk details. We’d love to have you back.
Dr. K.
My breath catches in my throat.
It’s a job offer.
A real one.
And I haven’t even sent out a single application or finished updating my resume.
I’m flattered. Honored.
I should be crafting an email immediately to accept the job and thank her. I should be thrilled and filled with relief. But instead, I just feel hollow.
There’s a void—a yawning black hole that has sucked up every ounce of enthusiasm I should feel right now.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This job would be perfect. And sure, it requires moving to Denver, but it should be a no-brainer. There’s nothing keeping me here.
I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, searching for excitement that isn’t there.
Maybe it’s just because there’s nobody here to celebrate with me.
I click into my chat with Marlowe.
I’ve got big news. Can I call you when you’re off work?
Let me guess... The hot cowboy fucked your brains out.
That’s notwhat this is about.
So, he definitely fucked your brains out then?
I’ll tell you when I call later.
