Ryker’s expression softened, but I caught the shadow that crossed his face. The unspoken questions hanging between us:What if you go to prison? How are you going to love her from a cell?
I lifted my chin, daring him to voice it. When he didn’t, I shifted the dog’s weight in my arms. “I suppose you think I’m being ridiculous.”
“I think you’re being you.” His voice was warm.
“Is that code for ridiculous?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “No. It’s code for … determined.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted a dog?”
He glanced at the dog, then back at me. “Wouldn’t matter if I did; my building has a strict no-pets policy. Iron-clad lease terms. Not even goldfish.”
“Good thing she’s coming home with me then.” I started walking toward the car. “My landlord’s biggest concern is whether rent clears on the first.”
Ryker inhaled a long breath, then pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. “Fine. Closest emergency vet is fifteen minutes away. Let’s go.”
Dr. Redfield set down her clipboard and gave me the look. The one I’d seen on social workers’ faces my entire childhood. Sympathetic. Practical. Preparing me for disappointment.
“I’m happy to help her.” She gestured to the trembling dog on the exam table. “But it’s my responsibility to be honest with you.”
Here it comes.
“It’s highly improbable she’ll get adopted from a shelter.” Dr. Redfield’s tone stayed gentle, which somehow made it worse. “Adorable dogs without health complications don’t get adopted. This girl?” She indicated the matted fur, the visible ribs, the infected wounds. “She’s got a long road ahead.”
The dog’s eyes found mine. Brown and liquid and trusting in a way that made my chest ache.
“Then there’s the medical uncertainty,” the vet continued. “Only time will tell how—or if—she heals. The infections alone could require weeks of treatment. That’s assuming her immune system can handle it.”
I kept my hand on the dog’s head, feeling the fragile skull beneath my palm.
“You think I should put her down.” The words came out flat. A statement, not a question.
Dr. Redfield had the decency to hesitate. “I think it’s an option you need to consider before you spend three hundred ninety dollars on medical procedures today. And that’s just theinitial treatment. Long-term care could run into the thousands.”
Three hundred ninety dollars. The cost of giving up on a life.
I looked at the dog again. At the way she pressed into my touch despite everything she’d been through. Despite every reason she had to mistrust humans.
“No.” The word came out harder than I’d intended. Good.
Dr. Redfield blinked. “I understand this is difficult?—”
“No,” I repeated, clearer this time. “Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate it. But no.”
“Miss Morrison?—”
“Is she in pain right now?” I cut her off, my voice sharp enough to slice. “Is she suffering?”
The vet’s mouth thinned. “The wounds are uncomfortable, certainly, but we can manage?—”
“So, when you had a sore on your body, should someone have just put you down?”
The question landed like a slap.
Dr. Redfield straightened, her professional mask slipping for just a second. “That’s not the same?—”
“Isn’t it?” I leaned forward, keeping one hand on the dog. Keeping contact. “You’re telling me her life isn’t worth saving because she’s inconvenient. Because she’s expensive. Because she’s damaged.” My jaw clenched. “I’ve heard that speech before, Doc. Had it directed at me more times than I can count. Guess what. I’m still here.”
