Silence filled the exam room, broken only by the dog’s shallow breathing. But I could feel Ryker staring at me, absorbing my every word.
“She deserves a chance,” I said, quieter now, but no less fierce. “Everyone deserves a chance. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to treat her. All of it. Whatever she needs. And I’m going to pay for it.”
Dr. Redfield studied me for a long moment. Something shifted in her expression—reassessment maybe. Or respect.
“All right.” She picked up her clipboard again, making notes. Smiling even. “I’ll need to run bloodwork, start her on antibiotics for the infections, treat the mange, and deworm her.”
“Whatever she needs,” I repeated.
The vet nodded slowly. “She’s lucky you found her.”
I scratched behind the dog’s ear, feeling her lean into the touch.
“No,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”
Two hours later, we walked out of the clinic with a pharmacy’s worth of supplies, a handful of dog toys, and a cautiously optimistic prognosis. The vet tech had worked magic with a gentle bath, washing away layers of grime to reveal fur that was actually cream-colored with peachy-tan ears.
At home, I went into full nesting mode. I dragged blankets from the linen closet and created a little sanctuary in the corner of my living room, right where the afternoon sun would stream through the bay window. A fluffy fortress of comfort, with her new bed as the centerpiece, and a little ramp of throw pillows leading up to my reading chair so she could look out at the world whenever she wanted.
“There.” I put my hands on my hips, surveying my handiwork. “Now, how about we get you some food? Would you like that?”
Her tail wagged, and I nearly dissolved into a puddle right there.
“Come on. Let me show you around.” I headed for the kitchen, and she followed on unsteady legs. “This is the kitchen, where humans make human food. Fair warning: I’m basically a culinary disaster, but I manage to keep myself alive.”
She sat on the tiled floor, head cocked at an adorable angle, watching me wrestle with the can opener.
I frowned at the resulting brown mush. “I really hope you like this because, with all due respect, it smells like fishand snails.”
Her head tilted the other way, like she was considering my critique.
I filled two bowls with food and fresh water and set them on the floor. “Here’s your dining room. Five stars, obviously.”
She approached the food with a mixture of hunger and hesitation, glancing at me for permission.
“It’s okay, baby.” I sat cross-legged beside the bowls and dipped my finger into the gross brown slop, pretending to taste it. “Mmm, delicious.”
Note to self: never become a food critic.
But it worked. One tentative lick turned into ravenous inhaling of the entire bowl.
“Easy there. You’re going to make yourself sick.” I smiled through fresh tears, watching her eat like it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.How long has it been since you had enough food?
Ryker leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that made the air hum around me. The afternoon light caught the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his eyes tracked my every movement as I tended to the dog. There was something raw in his expression beyond concern. Fascination maybe, like he was seeing me again through a beautiful light. The warrior who’d fight for the defenseless, even when she couldn’t fight for herself.
When the dog finished, she padded over and climbed into my lap like she belonged there. Like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.
My vision blurred as she pressed her head against my palm, those soulful brown eyes looking up at me with something that looked suspiciously like love.
“We need to come up with a name for you,” I said, stroking her newly clean fur. “Rainbow,” I decided. “I think I’ll name you Rainbow.” I scratched gently behind her ears. “You know why? Because after every storm, there’s always a rainbow.”
She licked my hand, sealing the deal.
“I love you, Rainbow.”
And then I watched as the little dog stopped trembling, lay down, and closed her eyes.
“Faith.” Ryker’s voice held a note of concern. “You should move to the couch. Sitting on hardwood can’t be comfortable.”
