I allow myself five minutes. Five minutes to let the racking sobs free from the cage I’ve locked tighter than the gates of hell. Then I dry my tears. “Maybe it’s salvageable. If I just…”
Jason shifts. Then…
A sniff. A dramatic, offended exhale.
He pads closer to me, sniffs again, and whines. I let out a wet, choking laugh.
“Jason! It can’t be that bad.” The pot scrapes on the stove and I can only assume he needed to make his point by nudging it.
Then his steps retreat. A small breathy laugh punches out of me, shaky but real. “Okay. Fine. It is that bad.”
I wipe my face with the inside of my wrist. The tears feel hot and sticky, like disappointment clinging to my skin.
I sniff. “Well, I guess we’re having takeout.”
I reach for my phone as Jason plops down beside me so heavily the floor vibrates.
“One burger for my opinionated sous-chef,” I mutter, “and mac and cheese for me. Comfort food.”
Dinner arrives. I sit cross-legged on the couch while Jason leans against me with his giant, reassuring weight. Every stroke of his fur calms some frayed wire inside my chest. We watch TV. Or rather, I listen. He watches. His tail swishes every time there’s a dramatic music cue.
At some point, the exhaustion wins. My head gets heavy. My limbs go warm.
I feel a furred shoulder under my cheek and then… Nothing.
I wake to Hattie’s cheerful voice declaring she brought cookies.
“And don’t fight me on it. Those horse riding lessons will burn off any calories. Where are you?”
I rub my eyes. Hang on a minute. Warm sheets. Warm blankets. Warm air. My fingers graze the duvet. My cane is beside the bed. My shoes are off. I’m tucked in. Comfortably. Carefully.
I don’t remember getting here.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Hattie’s disapproving tone cuts through the room. “You are getting back on the horse. I’m not letting you hide in bed all day.”
Her footsteps clomp up the stairs, then the warm duvet is ripped off me. “Out of bed, missy.”
Out of bed? The last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch.
“I need to change the locks.”
“Wouldn’t help. I’d find a way in. We’re bonded now. I saved your life.”
I snort, and so does Jason. “You stitched me up.”
“Yeah, and if I hadn’t, you would’ve bled out.”
“And you say I’m dramatic.”
“Why are you still in bed, anyway? You’re always up when the sparrows fart.”
“I must’ve been really tired,” I mumble, stretching. “I don’t even remember getting into bed.”
“Probably the wine you drank. This place smells like a brewery.”
I flush, then laugh as I recount what happened.
“Oh my god, I had the same thing happen to me last week. I knocked over a vase and went to grab it with the arm I no longer have. I felt like a real tit.” She pauses. “Oh, Jason. I didn’t see you there. I probably shouldn’t say tit in front of the dog.”
