“Ah, that’s good then. It likely acted like a giant filter.”
She examined his stomach before petting him once over the back and coaxing him, with very little effort, into the catkennel. He sought refuge in the back. Enormous eyes flashed from the shadows—blinking.
She then moved on to Bill. Bill’s feet danced in excitement, but he stayed sitting. Little yips and yowls passed his lips before she placed her hand on his head.
“Look at this handsome Border Collie! What a good boy you are.” She checked his still-matted coat. “He seems shaken for sure; I can feel it rattling down his back. His coat will need a wash.”
I grunted. “We all do.” The entire room had a smoky smell from our presence.
She lifted his paws and examined each before pulling a medical bag toward her and extracting some wrap and tweezers. “He’s got a lot of glass and cuts here. Also looks like a few burn blisters. I’ll do my best to clean them. He probably tried all he could to get the family out and sacrificed quite a bit.”
I watched as Dr. Allison removed shards and splinters, applying burn cream and antiseptic before wrapping each foot in gauze and tension wrap. Bill now had some pretty nifty-looking blue booties.
“Will you be the one caring for him? If so, I’ll give you the extra supplies he’ll need. You’ll want to change the wrapping—just as you saw me do—at least once every other day.” She looked up at me, and I nodded, happy to take that torch and care for him. I wasn’t sure who Sybil had in her life that would do so.
The vet went over several more things, giving Bill water and some other vitamins and liquids before assuring me he was in good shape. He would be readyto leave when Sybil did.
While Allison worked, I called Bee.
Bee was already here and waiting outside. The nurses allowed her through to retrieve Mr. Beans, figuring it was best to get him back to our place and set up with a litter box, more water and food.
We spoke little when she came in, both exhausted from the night’s event.
“She’s okay?” she whispered.
I gave her a reassuring nod.
“And you?”
I just shrugged. This had shaken me.
Once Bee was gone, I tried to relax back into the hospital chair. Bill splayed out on the floor, snoring. Pressing my fingers against my forehead, I allowedmyself to doze off.
CHAPTER 18
Sybil
I felt weighed down, a heavy, leaden sensation pressing on me like my limbs were made of metal. Soft beeping echoed in my head, a rhythmic pulse against the fog of my thoughts. I was afraid to open my eyes, unwilling to find out where I was.
A few steadying breaths passed my lips as my chest rose and fell, assessing each limb, hand, toe. I could feel something pinching my right finger. There was a cuff on my upper arm. My left hand was engulfed in warmth, a firm but gentle pressure. The room smelled sterile, with the lingering sweetness of wood smoke.
Braving the situation, I let my eyelids open one at a time. They felt caked and stiff, eyes swollen and stinging as the air hit them. They watered, and I blinked a few times. I wanted to wipe them, but my arms felt too heavy, so I let the cleansingtears run down my face instead.
Vision clearing, the very first thing they landed on was a sterile-looking wall of cabinets across from me. I heard a familiar whine, and my gaze fell to the floor beside me. Bill was there.
Relief flooded me before I noticed the large hand that extended from the top of Bill’s head and up the chair beside my bed. I heard the beeping in the room increase as my gaze continued up, across a broad left forearm wrapped with tattoos, to very toned biceps that sunk below a tight-fitting dark shirt.
Bill whined again, reacting to my quickening pulse, but he stayed still under the large hand on his head.
My wistful gaze flitted across the very male chest, neck, and chin peppered with thick stubble, hiding his once perfect goatee. Strong cheekbones appeared smudged with charcoal in a few places. I continued my gaze back down his opposite arm, seeing it ended with his other hand engulfing mine.
Every muscle in my body shut down.
Memories from last night re-emerged. The fire coming up the stairs from below, and my panic to find Mr. Beans. I recalled yanking him from under my bed and shoving him under my sweatshirt as my bedroom filled with dense smoke.
It felt as though I’d only just fallen asleep after staying up all night texting with Nash and reading. It was the first night I’d managed to make it to my own bed. I hadn’t even bothered brushing my teeth, my head fogged by a few glasses of bourbon.
Everything happened so fast. The spread of the fire seemed instantaneous. My room was on the top floor, and Iremembered getting to the stairwell, finding flames crawling up from the floor below. I had to hug the wall to descend, all the while pushing back the inevitable panic and fighting to stay conscious.
