Page 12 of My Favorite Hero

“Great.”

“The counters are butcher block,” Mark informed her—the kiss-ass he was.

“That’ll look good,” she said, sounding pleased. “Can you tell me where a furniture place is?”

Mark spoke before I could. “King’s on Main is good. My wife works there. Ask for Linda.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

She left, and Mark leaned on the counter. “She’s pretty. Seems great.”

“Trouble.”

“How so?”

I shrugged. “Instinct.”

“She related to Lou?”

“In some way,” I replied. “I haven’t dug too deep.”

“And I doubt you will,” he said. “She seems nice, though.” He looked at the boxes she had carried in. “Independent. I doubt she’ll cause you much trouble.”

I didn’t know how to tell him she already had. Just not the kind of trouble he was thinking.

“Come on, I’m starving.”

Mark and I finished lunch, and I felt better. He didn’t bring up Casey, and neither did I. After, I drove to the vet, and Miller was pleased to see me, dancing around, panting, his tongue hanging out. I got down on my knee, ruffling his fur and talking to him.

“Who’s the best boy? Did you miss me? Did ya? I missed you.”

Dr. Connelly laughed. “He was a good boy. We found that a small piece of the thorn in his paw was still embedded, and that’s what caused the infection. We got it out, cleaned it well, and he’s doing much better.”

I stood, taking the bill. “Great. Thanks.”

“He needs a pill twice a day and to come back to have the bandage changed. We’ll check it out again. Meanwhile, if he gets lethargic or starts trying to get at the bandage, bring him in. Or if you notice a lack of appetite—or anything that seems off.”

“Will do.”

We drove home, Miller letting his head hang out of the window, enjoying the fresh air. I had his leash tethered so he couldn’t get out, and he was strapped in for safety. He was a great dog. I had rescued him as a pup, a fluffy little bundle of furry golden retriever. He had been trapped in a burning house with his siblings, and I’d gone back in and gotten them out. When the owner screamed she was missing one pup, I’d run back in, searching under the bed where she had yelled he liked to hide.

I barely made it out before the roof collapsed. My chief gave me shit for days.

The owner gifted me Miller.

He’d been my steady companion for three years. He came with me on my shifts and was well cared for at the station. Other than the firefighters, he was friendly with others, but more reticent than retrievers usually were. I didn’t mind. Even at the dog park, he preferred my company to other dogs.

We were made for each other.

He grew tired of looking out the window and sat in the passenger seat, facing me. I rubbed his neck, happy to have him with me again. He lifted his head, pushing his cold nose into my hand.

“I’m glad you’re back, buddy. I missed you. Cold nose and all.”

He let out a low noise and rested his head on his paws. “No more going off the trail when we go for a run. I hate seeing you hurt.” I scratched between his ears. “I’m sorry I missed a piece of the thorn. I thought I had it all.”

His tail thumped as if he was telling me it was okay. I felt terrible for overlooking a fragment and his getting an infection. I was grateful for a good vet and being able to get him treatment quickly.

“I got you a treat for when we get home.”