And it was my own goddamn fault. The second Cash had run off last night, I should have just arranged to take the dog to a shelter. But instead, I’d gone ahead and made space in my schedule this morning and fixed his ear.
I sighed and silently apologized to Uncle Jim. “Technically? Since he’s a stray, we usually don’t charge.”
Cash’s brow furrowed and he whispered something to his brother, casting me worried glances.
“Cash wants to know how much it would be if we did want to pay,” Chase said, glaring at his twin.
“Six hundred and eighty dollars,” I said.
“Jesus Christ!” Chase said. “That’s fucking robbery.”
Cash elbowed him, and Chase winced.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Just… we weren’t expecting it to be that much. For a torn ear, I mean,” Wilder said.
As though even a simple surgery didn’t include the costs of the blood work, the propofol, the oxygen, and the gas. Of course these guys didn’t expect it to be that much. I’d have bet they also hadn’t given much thought to the fact that the business also needed to pay my wage and Kayla’s, and cover things like the utilities and insurance.
Chase looked more and more unfriendly, which really shouldn’t have been physically possible. “Do you have like, a discount?” he asked.
“That is the discount,” I said. “If I was charging for the emergency consultation, it’d be an extra two hundred and fifty.”
Wilder winced this time. “Shit.”
Yeah, that summed it up. Not that it mattered. These guys weren’t obligated to hand over a dime.
Cash whispered to his brother again.
“He wants to know what happens to the dog,” Chase asked.
“I’ll take it to a shelter,” I said.
Which, again, I should have done last night because Uncle Jim’s hardship fund was currently sitting at a few hundred dollars and change. I’d known that before I’d done the surgery, just like I’d known that there was a damn good chance the practice would have to eat the cost, but I’d done it anyway.
I made the mistake of looking at Cash. His mouth was compressed into a thin, wavering line, and he quickly swiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Chase wrapped an arm around his shoulders and glared at me, like this was my fault somehow. Cash lifted his gaze and said, in a voice hardly louder than a whisper, “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” I said and, against my better judgment, asked, “Do you want to see him?”
Cash nodded, swallowing.
I took them through to the back, where the dog was curled up in his cage. As soon as he saw he had company, he stood up, tail wagging. I opened the cage door. The plastic of the E-collar scraped against the cage as he darted out.
Cash dropped down onto his knees for his reunion with the dog while Wilder watched uncomfortably.
“Hey,” Cash whispered to the dog as he squirmed and tried to lick his face. “Hey, there, dog. Look at you.”
It was more words than he’d managed to say to me.
Then he looked up at me, saw me watching, and immediately hunched over the dog and clamped his mouth shut.
Shit.
I rubbed my forehead where a tension headache was doing its best to form.
It didn’t get any better when his twin dropped to the floor next to him. The hard edges of his glare melted as he petted the dog, and he looked just as young and vulnerable as his brother.
“Cash,” Wilder said, crouching down beside them. His voice cracked on Cash’s name, and he cleared his throat. “You can’t keep the dog, buddy. Even if we figure out a way to pay Dr. Ross, it’s gonna have to go to the shelter. You know that, right?” He shot me a look. “You’d take it to a good shelter, right? A no-kill shelter?”
