Page 15 of Interference

“It sucks,” he said, his voice hollow. Then he cleared his throat and sat up a little, reaching for his coffee. “Fortunately, she’s very, very good at what she does, even when she’s off duty.”

“How does she know when she’s not on duty?” I paused. “You just take her vest off?”

“Yep. She knows she can chill or play if she’s not wearing her vest. She never goes very far from me, though, and she’ll look over at me a lot. But when we—” He shifted uncomfortably. “Before we found ourselves in the situation we’re in, I would take her over to a local dog trainer’s place just to let her play with other dogs and get some dog time.”

“Not a dog park?”

“No. Because I can’t guarantee the other dogs that are there have been properly socialized. Plus with her being a Doberman, people expect her to be aggressive, so… Anyway, it’s just not a good place for her.”

“Sounds like it’s not a good place for any dogs.”

“Depends on the dog, I guess? Lily’s trainer hates them.” He paused, face falling a little. “And if I took her to one right now, people would immediately assume she’s untrained or she hasn’t had her shots because…” He gestured at himself.

It took a second for the piece to click into place. When it did, my heart sank. “Jesus. Really?”

He looked at me through his lashes. “Would you let a homeless person come up and pet your cats?”

“I…” Oh. Hell. Yeah, maybe he had a point. I was protective of my cats, and before today, if a homeless person had approached and wanted to pet them… Yikes. I cringed at my own response to that.

Before I could speak, though, Wyatt sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s not really a fair question. I gave homeless people a wide berth in my old life too. And I’m absolutely going to prioritize my dog’s safety or someone else’s feelings, even if they aren’t homeless and she isn’t a service dog.” He waved his hand. “So, no. It’s not a fair question, and you don’t have to answer it. But you can probably imagine why dog parks aren’t a good place for us right now.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I get it. And… I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine the shit you’ve had to deal with.”

“It’s rough,” he admitted. He must not have wanted to dwell on that topic, because he cleared his throat and shifted a bit. “Anyway, uh… I should toss my laundry in the dryer. Thanks again for…” He laughed softly and looked right in my eyes. “Everything, honestly.”

“Don’t mention it.” I got up. “And I guess I should be a responsible adult and get some sleep.”

Rising himself, he eyed the cup in my hand. “Right after you had some coffee?”

I chuckled. “Eh, I got in the habit when I had a Swedish roommate. He always drank coffee at night, so I joined in and now, yeah, somehow it doesn’t keep me awake.” Then I frowned. “It’s not going to keep you up all night, is it?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I could probably drink an entire coffeepot at this point and still be asleep the second I hit the pillow.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I headed for the kitchen to rinse out my cup. “I’ll be up around seven to have breakfast. Have to leave for practice at nine.” I was about to add that he was welcome to join me for breakfast, but his face fell.

“Oh. Right. We’ll, um…” He nodded to Lily. “We can be ready to leave by then.”

“No,” I said without really thinking. “You don’t have to leave.”

Wyatt stared at me. “But… I’d be alone in your house.” He gestured at the cat tree. “With your cats.”

“You will, yeah.” I thought fast, trying to find some rational reason why I couldn’t stomach tossing him out. I mean, I couldn’t stomach the idea of throwing a man and his dog out in the cold because that was fucking wrong. But why not take him to a shelter? Why not take him somewhere other than here?

Why do I want you to be here when I get home tomorrow?

That was the part that didn’t make sense, and if I couldn’t articulate it to myself, I sure as hell couldn’t to him.

Then Lily gave me my answer—she started scratching her neck with her back paw, reminding me of the conversation Wyatt had with Dr. Green before leaving the clinic.

Gesturing at the dog, I said, “She’s gotta be on those antibiotics for ten days, right?”

Wyatt’s eyes flicked toward her, and he nodded warily.

“So it would probably be better for her to be…” I gestured at our surroundings.

He chewed his lip. “Probably, yeah. But I don’t want to impose.”

I waved that away. “It’s fine. She’ll be safer here, and so will you. So… don’t sweat it.”

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