Page 26 of The Minotaur's Valentine

My whole body flutters with adrenaline. I can barely keep my voice from shaking as I answer, “Yes. Right.”

I SCRUB THE TABLE DOWN and get things ready to operate in record time while Peterson is scrubbing up, still talking to the dog. Peterson gets the IV and anesthesia started while I wash my hands and glove up.

“I’m not a vet,” I point out belatedly.

“You will be one day. Would you like that?”

“More than pretty much anything!” I’m gonna tear up while I assist in my first-ever emergency operation. Not good.

“You can do this. Shave the hip and flank while I wash the wound with saline. You trim the edges of the outer skin and I’ll start on the muscle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doc is good enough.” He winks at me.

I love you! You’re the dad I never had! My lips are itching like I was bitten by a particularly vicious mosquito, but I don’t say anything. To distract myself, I ask a bunch of inane questions, which Peterson answers in the same calm, hypnotic voice that relaxes the angry feral mama cat and the dog on the verge of bleeding out.

“20 cc’s?”

“Make it forty.”

“Got it.

“Bone is chipped. Nothing we can do about that.”

“Yep. Is the leg broken?”

“Miraculously, no.”

In forty minutes, we’re suturing. Doc lets me do the last row. I want to burst with pride.

You watching me do this, but then turning away because you know I can handle it—means so much to me. Why are you so kind to me?

Damn itchy-mosquito-lip questions. Back to inane small talk. “Slicker than goblin snot, huh? That’s a new one. Why isn’t the county using salt instead of sand?”

“Yeah, well, it may be an insult to goblins, but they do have particularly slippery nasal secretions. According to old folktales. I’ll get Chloe settled in the recovery area. You go let the Adelsons know she’s good to go and should wake up soon. They can stay until she wakes up, but then they need to leave so she can rest and recover. I want her under monitored sedation for a while.”

“I’ll do it! I’ll stay. I don’t have plans tonight.” I jump at the chance to do something, anything to show Peterson that I’m vet material and that I can make him proud.

Besides, my big night is tomorrow night. As long as I get home in time to do some last-minute shaving and styling, I’ll be fine.

I know there was something else I was supposed to do today... but I’m suddenly having trouble thinking about anything but Doc’s answer and how I want to curl up next to the snoring golden retriever.

Something feels off.

Duh. You’re not used to good things happening. You’re not used to good people like Peterson.

For the first time in your life, everything is going great and you don’t know how to handle it. That’s all.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Milo

Istare at the phone, which looks like a child’s toy in my massive palm. Pine Ridge offers a lot of things for its larger, heavier citizens—but no one has invented a supersized smartphone yet.

“Felix. Freddy. Libby wants me to bring you over tomorrow night.”

I swallow a giddy laugh as I roll onto my back, sprawling across the bed. A sizable tent of morning wood (more like a morning log) confronts me. I tell myself it has nothing to do with the idea that Libby wants me to come to her apartment tonight, Valentine’s night. It has nothing to do with the fact that if she’s asking me to come over, she isn’t planning on anything serious with Ricky. Not that she’s planning anything serious with me, either, but the image of her drained limp body and Ricky’s lecherous face leaves my mind with a sigh of relief.

Felix and Freddy, who have taken to sleeping by my head, skitter off as I start to stretch.

---