Chapter One
Lacey
The January cold bit through my jacket as I sat in the parking lot of North Texas Animal Hospital, staring at my phone screen. I should've gone inside already—my shift as a veterinary assistant started in five minutes—but I needed to check my bank balance first.
I always did this to myself. Checked the numbers even though I knew they wouldn't be enough.
Checking account: $847. Rent due in ten days: $950. Student loan payment: $180. Pole fitness studio rent: $400. Car insurance coming up in two weeks.
My phone went dark as I locked it and dropped it in my purse. The math didn't work. It never did.
My New Year's resolution stared back at me from the rearview mirror—a sticky note I'd slapped there three weeks ago in a fit of optimism.Make the business profitable. Save for school. You've got this.
Did I, though?
The thermometer on the bank across the street read thirty-eight degrees, but the wind made it feel like the twenties. The jacket did nothing as I hurried toward the front door, keys jingling in my hand.
I'd been supporting myself for two years now, scraping by on veterinary assistant wages that barely covered rent and bills. The Associate's degree I needed to become a licensed vet tech felt impossibly far away. That's why I'd started teaching pole fitness classes a year ago—to save money, to build something that was mine, to prove I could make it on my own.
But first I had to tell my father what I was doing.
The memory surfaced as I reached for the lock—standing in Bennett's Garage eight months ago, the smell of motor oil and old coffee thick in the air.
"I'm gonna teach some fitness classes," I'd told him. "Save up money so I can finish my degree."
Dad's face had lit up. "That's real good, Lacey. You mean like those aerobics classes they offer down at the community center?"
"It's pole fitness, actually—"
The change was instant. His whole expression shifted from proud to horrified to furious. The red crept up his neck into his face.
"You mean stripping?"
"No, Dad, it's exercise—"
"No daughter of mine is gonna parade around half-naked for money."
The conversation ended with him telling me not to come around until I "came to my senses."
Eight months of silence.
I unlocked the door of the animal hospital, leaving that memory in the parking lot where it belonged. This was my present, not my past. I wasn't going to let my father—or anyone else—make me feel ashamed of my choices. I was done being told what to do.
The morning passed in its usual routine. Mrs. Henderson brought in her ancient tabby, Whiskers, for his arthritismedication refill. I knelt beside the exam table while Dr. Bev examined him, one hand gently steadying the old cat's trembling body.
"You're okay, buddy," I murmured, scratching behind his ear. His rough purr vibrated against my palm. "We're gonna get you feeling better."
Mrs. Henderson's eyes were wet. "He's slowing down so much."
"The medication Dr. Bev prescribed will help," I said, meeting her gaze. "And he knows you're taking good care of him. That matters."
After she left, the Wilson family's Lab puppy bounded in for his second round of shots and proceeded to pee on the exam table in excitement. Dr. Bev Montgomery-Lopez moved through it all with her usual calm competence, and I fell into step beside her, grateful for the steadiness of the work.
"You're good with them," she said as I cleaned up after the puppy. She wasn't one for excessive praise, so that meant something.
"Thanks." The disinfectant spray bottle fit perfectly in my hand after two years of this routine. "Animals are easier than people."
"They usually are." Warmth colored her matter-of-fact tone.
