Page 76 of Wanted

“Sure.” I spot a box of heavy duty garbage bags. “Give me your arm.”

She tugs up her sleeve to reveal her purple cast and inspects the plaster. “It looks dry.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

The bag rustles as I wrap her arm, first putting her hand inside then securing the top until it’s water tight.

“How does it feel?”

She moves her arm around before wrestling her sleeve back into place. “I think it’ll hold up just fine.”

Frankie takes a place near Elvis’s head and strokes his chin. “You’ll be okay, sweet boy.”

“There’s treats next to you, but some dogs are too anxious to eat. Keep talking to him while I start with a rinse.”

She holds up a little brown beef nugget. Elvis cautiously pulls it from her fingers.

“That’s a good puppy.” His ears rotate as she caresses his head.

I click on the sprayer and wait for the temperature to warm. Feeling pricks to life in my numb fingers beneath the trickle. “I’m going to start on his legs to get him used to it.”

Reddish-brown rivulets run into the white tub. Elvis dances a little as I switch legs.

“So what happened exactly?”

“It was the rain.” Frankie sighs and rests her chin on her casted forearm against the tub. Her fingertips stroke Elvis’s head and for a second, I’m jealous of my dog. I wonder what it’d feel like to have her touching me like that, looking at me with her full attention while running her fingers through my hair. “The thunder in the distance spooked him.”

“When you called I must have been getting back into the van and didn’t hear it ring. I checked it when I was almost home, and tried to call you back, but then you didn’t pick up.”

“I was a little busy,” she huffs and pushes a wet lock of hair from her cheek. “That was probably about the time I was rolling around in the mud.”

“I got scared.” My quiet confession is barely audible above the sprayer and the storm outside. My compulsion was in full force as I raced back home. “Fuck, I don’t like that feeling.”

“I know,” she answers just as quietly. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but it makes me feel good that you were worried about me.”

Her admission feels like a dagger twisting in my heart. The fucking awful way she’s been treated isn’t right. Not for her. Not with how fucking special she is. “You deserve to have people care about you.”

She clears her throat. “We all do. It just feels extra nice coming from you.”

The sprayer slips from my hand and blasts her in the arm.

“Jude!” Her shriek explodes into a burst of laughter. “I’m drenched enough.”

“Shit.” I readjust the spray. “At least it’s warm.”

“That did feel good.”

“Let’s get this guy finished up so we can get you into some dry clothes. You’re going to get sick.”

“It’s a good thing I have a pretty skilled nurse.” Her tiny elbow digs into my ribs.

One final rinse over Elvis and I deem him clean enough to sleep in the house. Frankie helps me wrap him tight in towels to protect him from the rain but also to provide pressure as we run back out into the storm. I have a thunder jacket in the house I can fit him into, and it might help him sleep better tonight after I give him some medicine.

With Elvis tight in my hold, we race back through the pouring rain into the house. Frankie opens the staff door, and we both burst in, laughing and dripping across the hardwood, puddles forming where we stand. The sound of the wind cuts off as she shuts the door behind me and leans against it to catch her breath.

“This weather is crazy!”

“It seems intense for so early in the spring. At least the rest of the snow will melt.” Setting Elvis on his feet, I dry him once more with the towels.

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