“Yeah, me too.” Go home and wash my face under a cold stream of water while I don’t think of how Tyler feels inside me.
His hand stalls on the door handle. “If you want to keep this cover going, you should follow me out. Make it look like we’re leaving together in case anyone’s watching.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “God, I hope no one’s watching.”
He chuckles. “Have a good night, Marie.”
While he heads for his truck, I clean up as best I can and fix my panties. I tell myself that there was no need to tell Tyler that I’m not on any sort of birth control. The timing’s off, anyway.
In moments, I’m tailing his truck out of the Ale House’s driveway, squinting against the glare of the glowing orange sun in my rearview mirror. I follow the forest green truck all the way to his turnoff, and a part of me—the physical part that aches to feel Tyler’s hands on my bare skin again—hopes he’ll continue past it and lead me back to my place.
To my disappointment, he hangs a left, sticks his arm out the window, and waves as he speeds off.
But it’s better this way, I remind myself, and head home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Is that it?” Mary Beck’s voice is shaky, her hand stroking Eddie’s head.
I will the lump in my throat to disperse as I press my stethoscope to the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel’s chest to confirm the lack of a heartbeat. He was always vibrating with energy when he came in here. Now, his cancer-riddled body is lifeless on his favorite blanket, laid out on the metal table of my examination room. “Yes. He’s gone.”
She dabs at a single tear that trickles down her wrinkled cheek. “At least he’s not suffering anymore.”
“We did what we could for him, Mary,” I say gently. It’s the standard line, one that brings all the comfort and yet none.
“He’s all I had left.” More tears begin to stream, too many to dab at with her tissue. “Can I have another moment alone with him?” She’s trying her hardest to keep it together—her lips pursed tightly—but I get it. She’s going to fall apart, and she wants to do it in private.
I offer a sympathetic smile. “Take all the time you need.” I duck into the back room, pushing the door closed firmly. It doesn’t muffle the sobs that erupt behind the door.
Eddie wasn’t my dog, but even I feel like crying. He was ten—too young. If not for the countless lumps throughout his body and the oozing sore on his face, he would’ve seemed fine. His tail was still wagging right to the very end when the sedative kicked in.
He’s the third pet I’ve had to put down this week—an unusually high number for me. I used to keep count of the animals I euthanized, convincing myself it’s a number I should know. Now I only keep a tally of the animals I’ve saved.
Unfortunately, this little guy was not one of them.
I let my body sag against the wall, willing this day—this week—to be over.
The door to the clinic lobby swings open, and Cory barrels through.
“She just needs a few more minutes with him—”
“I’m sorry, because I know you need some time to yourself after that, but you should come out here.” Cory points behind her. “Like, now.”
This is not standard Cory behavior.
Peeling myself off the wall, I follow her out.
Tyler is standing in my lobby.
I haven’t seen or heard from him in a week, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he’s in my lobby, in his park ranger uniform, his arms flexing beneath the weight of a whimpering Bernese mountain dog. Blood drips from its front leg at a steady rate, despite the cloth tied around it, splattering on the lobby floor.
A young woman stands behind Tyler, streaks of mascara down her cheeks. Through the front window, a silver Mini pulls up next to Tyler’s ranger vehicle, and another young woman jumps out, in a frantic rush to collect her purse and phone.
“Rachel, this is the veterinarian I told you about. Her name is Marie,” he says, his voice calm, as I’m sure he’s been trained to be for these situations.
I offer a quick, polite smile in response. “What happened?”
“Beau stepped in a trap while they were hiking. I got him out of it, but I thought it best we come here.”
The fact that a park ranger hauled a hundred-pound dog and its owner straight to a vet tells me all I need to know about its seriousness. I’ve seen enough to know those traps can destroy an animal’s leg. “Can he walk?”