I let the rhythm settle me, grounding me more than I cared to admit. He must have taken it harder than I realized.
For him to react like that, it had struck somewhere raw. I didn’t want him carrying that alone, didn’t want him thinking I doubted him.
I closed my eyes and focused on his breathing. Not now, I decided. I’d let him sleep. We’d talk in the morning.
Minutes passed with me staring at the faint line of early dawn bleeding through the curtains. The room feeling smaller, quieter. My thoughts kept circling back to the same point again and again.
Finally, I gave up. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, pulling on jeans and a sweater, moving slowly so I barely made a sound. I grabbed my coat from the chair by the door, each motion deliberate.
I hesitated beside the bed. Chris hadn’t moved much. One arm was flung out now, palm open like he’d been reaching for something in his sleep and missed.
His hair fell across his forehead. Without the sharpness in his eyes or the defensive edge in his voice, he looked younger. Softer. My chest tightened.
“I’ll be back,” I murmured under my breath, even though he couldn’t hear me.
I considered bringing Pampi but decided against it. I didn’t want him to think I wouldn’t be back soon, so I slipped out quietly, letting the door click behind me.
The hotel grounds were still and gray, dew dampening the hedges and grass. Hands shoved into my coat pockets, I started walking, letting the chill wake me up as my thoughts drifted back to the clinic.
I’d really thought I had something yesterday. Harold’s dog was sick, Marion’s supposedly showing symptoms.
It had felt like the thread was finally coming together. Except when I went back to the clinic later that afternoon to double-check, the vet had looked at me like I was imagining things.
“Marion’s dog?” Dr. Mitchell had said. “He’s fine. No fever. No gastrointestinal distress. Nothing like what he described.”
Either the dog had bounced back in record time, or someone had lied. Harold’s case could still have been a one-off. But my instincts didn’t like it.
Rounding the corner near the garden, I nearly ran into Donnie. He grabbed my arm just in time. “Whoa. Morning.”
“Oh, morning,” I said.
His collie walked calmly at his side. Beside him was another handler, someone I recognized from dinner the other night. His retriever stayed politely at heel, tail thumping once.
“Where’s Pampi?” Donnie asked, glancing around.
“Still asleep. Figured she could use the rest.”
Donnie snorted. “Must be nice. Mine’s been restless since four.” His collie shifted, licking its lips.
“Everything okay?” I asked, looking down at the dog.
“Yeah… probably,” Donnie said, though his tone betrayed a bit of worry. “He had a rough night, threw up once, but he seems better this morning. We’re just heading to the store to grab something bland, just in case.”
The other handler added, “Relief area’s open early. A few of us are doing light warm-ups later.”
Donnie nodded. “Oh yeah! You and Chris should join us.”
“Maybe,” I said. “We’ll see.”
“All right. Hope you can stop by later.”
We split at the fork in the path. I should have turned back toward the hotel. Instead, my steps slowed.
Donnie’s dog shouldn’t have mattered. One upset stomach wasn’t suspicious. He even said his dog was feeling better already.
But my legs carried me toward the relief area anyway. I’d only checked this place once, the first day after we’d registered. Between the chaos of the competition and everything else, I hadn’t circled back.
Halfway down the path, I paused. Chris might wake soon and wonder where I’d gone. It was only a few minutes more. I’ll only take a quick look.
