I nodded, my fingers quivering as I waited for the beep. “Ocean, it’s me. I just want you to know I’m okay, and I need you to know I’m not mad at you. Not in any way. I just needed some time. Please don’t think you did anything wrong. I’ll call you again later. I just wanted you to hear my voice.”
I ended the message, my hands shaking as I set the phone down. The room was quiet except for Nyx’s gentle presence beside me.
I leaned against her, closing my eyes, letting myself breathe. The tension in my chest slowly eased, replaced by a cautious relief. Ocean didn’t have to know everything yet, but at least I had taken the first step. At least he knew he wasn’t the reason for my sudden panic.
48
OCEAN
My eyes were locked on Ol’ School’s front door, my hand hovering over the knob as I listened. I could hear the dogs across the street barking, scratching, making too much damn noise.
It had been a few days since Ol’ School’s accident, but I made it a habit to make sure I checked in on him every day. Especially since his old ass refused to let the nurse stick around for longer than a couple of days.
“Old man, you in there?” I called out, tugging my jacket tighter around me and knocking on his door again.
But the only answer I got was the faint scuffle and growl of Trouble.
I leaned closer, pressing my ear to the door. The scratching was the kind of frantic clawing that made my stomach drop. Something was wrong. Real wrong.
I pulled my spare key from my pocket, my hand shaking slightly. Not because of fear, but because I knew that when I unlocked that door, anything could be waiting on the other side. My heart was hammering, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I pushed the door open, and chaos erupted.
Trouble shot out of the house like a bullet, barreling across the street toward the other dogs. The barking was deafening, dogs snapping at each other. I cursed under my breath, adrenaline kicking in. I sprinted across the street, dodging a small terrier that skidded in front of me. And then I saw it.
One of Ol’ School’s shoes, lying twisted in the grass, partially hidden by the commotion. My stomach dropped to my feet, and my heart stuttered. I pushed past the barking, lunging toward the yard. There he was....Ol’ School. My chest stiffened so hard I thought it might crush me. He was on the ground, unconscious, blood soaked into his shirt, several bite marks and scratches crisscrossing his arms and legs.
“Fuck!” I yelled, pulling out my gun and shooting into the air. The sound cracked against the quiet morning, and the dogs scattered, yelping, growling, retreating to their own corners. Even Trouble raced back toward the house.
My eyes were locked on Ol’ School, taking in the damage. Panic screamed at me, but I forced it down, pushing the adrenaline into action mode.
I knelt beside him, hands shaking as I lifted his head into my lap. “Ol’ School…come on, you hear me? Stay with me.” I pressed my fingers to his neck, and my heart skipped when I felt a weak pulse.
Shit. He’s alive.
Then the owners came running. “What the hell happened?” one of them yelled, eyes wide at the bloody scene in their yard.
“Your fucking dogs is what happened! Get them! Now!” I snapped. They jumped into action, caging the beasts. My eyes never left Ol’ School, and my hands were already checking the worst of the bites, trying to stop the bleeding with whatever pressure I could manage.
I realized then that I’d left my phone in the car. I cursed under my breath, sprinting back across the street, shoesslapping against the pavement. My fingers fumbled over the screen as I dialed 911.
“I need a fucking ambulance…elderly male, multiple dog bites, unconscious but still breathing.” I rattled off the address, my pulse still racing.
I hung up, sprinting back to the yard, every second counting.
“Come on, man. Come on…you can make it,” I whispered, cradling his head in my hands. “You hear me? You hear me, old man? Help’s on the way. I got you.”
I pressed my forehead to his. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Just hold on.” The words felt thin against the horror of the scene, but I had to say them. I had to believe them.
I noticed a thin trickle of blood from a deep bite on his arm. My stomach clenched, but I kept pressure on the wound with my hand, trying to keep him stable until the ambulance arrived. The dogs, now safely behind fences, were barking at intervals, still riled up, but nowhere near as chaotic as before.
The neighbors were staring, some on their phones, some calling for help, all of them frozen at the sight of this frail old man, bloodied and unconscious, held in my arms like I was the only thing keeping him from disappearing into the void.
“Relax,” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else. “You got this, man. You got this.”
Minutes felt like hours. I checked his pulse again, praying it hadn’t faltered. His chest rose and fell in a weak, ragged rhythm. I could hear his faint moans, enough to give me a shred of hope.
The wail of sirens in the distance pulled me from the moment, and I felt a surge of relief.
Paramedics came running, taking in the scene. “Step back, sir,” one of them called out. “We got him.”
