It must be soterrible, strutting around the world when you’re rich and beautiful. I wonder what fancy dinner reservation the corgi rescue interrupted.
Considering dog-whisperer Brady is with Possessed Barbie in the first place, he can’t be your normal, everyday upstanding person, regardless of how much this corgi adores scritch-scratches behind the ear.
“Sure.” I nod, smile, and close the door behind me.
Dr. Ezzie’s door is still cracked. I rap on it gently, trying to ignore the heavy silence inside her office.
“Hey, Doc?” I call. “We have a couple here with an abandoned dog, and I wondered if you’d be okay giving the poor thing a quick look? The air’s pretty rancid today, and he doesn’t look too comfortable.”
Although if that tail was any indication, he’s not feeling too awful.
Dogs aren’t like people—if they have any serious issues, they usually show it. Lethargy, lack of enthusiasm, lack of appetite. Lack of responsiveness to affection.
Still, it’s not my place to say.
But I don’t get a response.
I push the door open, revealing Dr. Ezzie, and I do a double take. Her mouth is pressed tight, and her eyes are red.
Guilt punches me in the stomach.
I was right: Whatever was on that call wasn’t good news.
And now I’ve gone and dragged her out of her cave before she was ready.
But I don’t let my face reveal my guilt. Maybe she knows it looks obvious she’s been crying, but that doesn’t mean I need to stare and make her feel worse.
I don’t need to look shocked.
Dr. Ezzie never cries.
In the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen her shed a single tear. Even yesterday, when she got the call about her dad’s fall and rushed to the hospital, there was nothing but strong determination on her face.
The guilt in my belly tightens into a knot.
Something must be horribly wrong.
But she forces a smile anyway, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Certainly, Lena. Thanks for showing them in. Anything I can do to help.”
She stands.
“They’re in Room B,” I say too brightly.
Yeah. No one will hand me an Oscar anytime soon for my acting.
I just try to cling to my calm even though I’m stressing like crazy. My boss so doesn’t need this today.
She follows me to the exam room, though, where Blondie scrolls TikTok with the volume cranked up while her obscenely hot boy toy strokes the dog’s back.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Ezzie,” Dr. Ezzie says coolly, her professionalism snapped back in place. “How can I help?”
Brady glances at me before saying, “We found this boy on a hike down by the beach, stuck under some driftwood and panting like mad. Don’t know how long he was there. I figured it was long enough with the bad air.”
I can’t help it—I look out the window, staring at the evening haze painting gloom over everything.
It’s a minor miracle the dog is even here.
What kind of man goes hiking inthisblack lung environment? A masochist? Some health freak who puts muscle and endurance over long-term lung capacity?
