Page 25 of Old-Fashioned

Ten minutes later, my Jeep rocked to a stop as I jumped out, and then carefully, I gathered the dog in my arms from the back seat, grateful he didn’t snap at me when I did this.

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the waiting room filling out paperwork.

They told me he wasn’t microchipped.

They told me that they had no word from anyone about them missing a dog.

And with how badly malnourished he was, I doubted there would be anyone to claim him.

And if they tried, in the condition he was, then they didn’t deserve to have him. At. Fucking. All.

“Ms. Vergano?” I heard asked.

I lifted my head and looked at a young woman with long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

I offered her a sad smile, and asked, “Yes?”

“We need to know if you’re willing to cover the charges. Unfortunately, I hate this part of my job. With how badly malnourished he is, and his injuries, we will more than likely have to put him down.”

I didn’t hesitate in my answer, “You do whatever you need to fix him up. I’ll be taking him home with me.”

She smiled as I handed her my card, “Whatever he needs to get the best fighting chance of getting to be a loved-up family member.”

When she nodded, I got on my phone and placed an online order. It will all be at the house tomorrow.

I also shot a text to Isla.

Me – Raincheck? I was on my way back with Abel to get his truck when my Jeep wouldn’t start when I saw this badly treated dog in a field. At the vet with him now.

She replied instantly.

Isla – Damn. I was hoping you were telling me raincheck because Abel swept you off your feet and took you home with him.

Isla – I want to know about the dog. Keep me updated. Okay?

I stopped myself from texting her a response along the lines of it will be a cold day in hell before Abel does anything like that. Not after he was so hot and then so cold with me earlier.

It was two hours later that I was called into a side room.

I took a seat and waited.

Five minutes later a man, a very attractive man who had tattoos on his forearms, long light brown hair pulled back in a man bun, who, unfortunately, didn’t make my heart feel as though it was about to beat out of my chest. Damn.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy Jacobs, I wanted to run over his injuries and the steps that you will have to take going forward, okay?”

At my nod, he started listing things off. One. By. Freaking. One.

His back leg was broken. He was severely emaciated. He had heartworms. He was so dehydrated, that a few of his organs were starting to fail. And sadly, he also saw the same marks on the boy as I did. Fighting. Someone had used him as a fighting dog.

Bastards.

Another day out there, and we wouldn’t have been having this conversation.

Not wanting him to be in an unfamiliar place alone, I asked if I could stay with him.

And since they had night nurses, they had agreed.

Since I had Triple A while I was inside, they came out and replaced my battery for me. Score.

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