Lucky.
Lucky.
The word repeats until it stops meaning anything.
I sit through it with my jaw clenched, my body shaking from the adrenaline crash. My arms sting as they clean the scrapes. My ribs are prodded and declared bruised, not broken. They stitch the deeper cut on my forearm. My cheek is bandaged. People keep telling me I did well. That I’m safe. That everything’s okay. But I don’t feel okay.
Not without him. I never used to understand the absolute devastation people would go through when they lost a pet. Imean, I could sympathize, but I guess working on the farm and being up close and personal with the circle of life taught me a different side of losing animals. So, how did I get so attached to a dog I spent maybe ten minutes with?
Discharge takes forever, but eventually someone places a hand on my arm and guides me outside. The air smells different, cooler.
My medical driver, Sam, waits in the pickup zone, turning down the soft jazz as I climb in.
“How’s the pain?” he asks gently.
“I’ve had worse.”
“I guess that was a stupid question.”
Shit, I’m being a bitch. “Not at all. I’m sorry. I’m grouchy. It’s been a long day.”
“You couldn’t get me on one of those beasts if you paid me. Goes without saying, being taken on a joyride you never signed up for would make you a little salty.”
I want to say it wasn’t Honey’s fault, but I don’t have the energy. Plus, it brought the mystery dog into my life.
The ride is quieter than it normally is, and I’m grateful Sam doesn’t probe. He sees me up the porch steps and to my front door.
“You gonna be good, Violet?”
“Yes, thank you, Sam. I’m gonna take a shower and get right into bed.”
“You have my number if you need anything.”
For the first time since Honey bolted, I smile. Sam always leaves with the same sign-off, and I always confirm that I have his number. The routine settles me a bit. But then all too soon I’m reminded I never got to have my evaluation today. Now more than ever, I realize I want a dog. No…need a dog. And I specifically want the one from today.
The house feels muffled. Like everything is dialed back a little. It’s too quiet. Too lonely.
After a shower, I crawl into bed. The sheets are cold and my heartbeat is way too loud. I don’t get the usual feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment I normally get after my Tuesday visits to the sanctuary. Usually, I’m on a high when I get home. Today, I just feel lonely. I don’t feel the residual lull of Honey’s steady rhythm to send me to sleep.
My breath is too loud, and I find myself wishing I could hear someone else’s breath in the room, which takes my brain straight back to serial killers and madmen. Not that those two are mutually exclusive.
I need a dog.
I need that dog.
I hope he’s safe.
I hope I feel that warmth again.
Chapter 7
Jason
“Explain.”
Froggy doesn’t waste a damn second. The moment we’re out of the humans’ line of sight, he whirls on me, his hackles raised, eyes wild, breath puffing hard enough to stir the damp leaves on the ground.“Explain what the actual hell that was, Jason.”
I drag in a breath that tastes like wet bark and guilt.
