Page 4 of Quake

I huff with frustration. “I called about thirty minutes ago. Pickles ate a chicken bone, and she needs to be seen.”

Her eyes dance with laughter, her cheek twitching. “Oh yeah, I remember your call. Acrowdropped a chicken bone in front of your dog’s face for her to eat?” she says with disbelief and amusement. “When did this happen exactly?”

“Just before I called,” I tell her, refraining from rolling my eyes at her blatant mockery.

“Crows aren’t nocturnal. Everyone knows that. If you gave your dog a chicken bone, you can just say that, silly. You don’t need tolie; we all make mistakes,” she tells me. I hope this isn’t her failed attempt at flirting because she’s going to be single for a long time if so.

I bristle regardless. “I didn’t feed her a fucking chicken bone.” My temper has officially flared, my patience worn so thin that I let the next words fly out of my mouth with little regard for the regret I'm bound to feel later. I'll let the guilt consume me as I try and fail to sleep tonight. “Do your damn job and check her in so she can see someone who can actually help her instead of eye fucking me and wasting my goddamn time.”

The room, once filled with chatter and the occasional yipping dog, goes silent. Those in the waiting area with pets are holding their breath, shocked that I’d speak to someone like that. Frankly, I'm shocked too.

The blonde’s dark brows shoot up her forehead in surprise before she sputters, “I… I wasn’t, um, I wasn’t doing that. I’ll, uh, get you checked in.” Then she mutters, regaining some of her earlier bravado, “You don’t have to be such a dick though.”

“Oh, shut up, Valerie. You should be able to get arrested for the way you were molesting this poor man with your eyes. And he’s right, do yourdamn job for once,” the black-haired woman from earlier says.

It’s my turn to be shocked. Her voice is far less annoying to me now. I meet her dark eyes with my own, giving her the warmest and most genuine smile I can muster before saying, “Thank you. I’m sorry for causing a scene.” My eyes cast downward toward the giant lump of fur in my arms. “I just want my pretty girl to get help, and I wasn’t expecting to be accosted when I checked in.” I’m not about to pussyfoot around the fact that this Valerie woman was being inappropriate.

“I completely understand. There’s absolutely no need to apologize, and Val here was just heading out, weren’t you, Valerie?” she asks the blonde with a now-harsh quality to her voice.

Valerie is clearly still stunned. Stammering, she grabs her things and makes her way around the counter.

The other woman leans across the desk to offer her hand. “I’m Betty. I’ve got Pickles all checked in, and Dr. Hughes will be with you guys as soon as she can.” I shake her outstretched hand, thanking her again before taking Pickles to sit down.

The waiting room has been a revolving door of new people and new animals, and an hour later, I hear someone call for Pickles. I stand up abruptly, carrying her toward the person who called for her. “Hi, I’m Ryan. I’ll take you and Pickles back to an exam room.” She heads back, so I follow the petite brunette. Her white Crocs catch my eye, the jibbles in them almost making me laugh. I can’t make out what all of them are, but as I enter the room, I take a seat on the blue bench. Still holding Pickles, I get a betterlook and see that there are otters, dogs, and dinosaurs on her shoes. The absurdity makes me chuckle, and I guess that’s probably the purpose behind her strange attire. To bring some light to a place that is sometimes filled with grief as much as it is joy.

“So, Pickles, I hear a little birdy dropped a bone off for you. Poor thing. I’ve just gotta get some info from your daddy, and then Dr. Hughes will be right back to help you feel all better, okay?” She coos at her as she crouches down, squeezing Pickles’s cheeks regardless of the drool she’s now letting fall down her face in rivulets of slime.

She goes over some basic health history with me and then steps out to grab the doctor. A few minutes later, there’s a gentle knock at the door before a woman, who I assume is Dr. Hughes, steps into the room.

My mouth is agape, and it’ll take a forklift to pick it up off the floor. Dr. Hughes isn’t some wrinkly older lady with graying hair. She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s short, maybe five foot two, and her skin is a creamy porcelain, with light freckles dusting her cheeks. Her crimped waves of glossy, fiery auburn hair cascade down her chest.

When I finally raise my eyes to meet hers, she’s looking at me with wide hazel eyes that look like a churning pot of emerald green, honey, and rust.

I realize I’ve been staring for longer than what would be considered socially acceptable, my mouth snapping closed before I recover. “Hi, sorry, it’s um, it’s just really late, so I’m tired. Social skills are a bit off at this hour,” I tell her with an awkward chuckle that sounds foreign coming from my mouth. “I’m Gianni, and thispretty girl is Pickles.” I gesture at the melted pile of fur, who’s now peering up at me from my lap.

“Hi, Gianni. I’m Dr. Hughes, but you can call me Lark.” She gives me a genuine smile that starts melting the edges of my ice-encased heart. My chest is heating, my stomach filling with what might be butterflies, but who knows? It’s the shit you hear people describe in movies, but for all I know, it might just be anxiety. Or heartburn? I’m about to be thirty-one next month. Thirty-one-year-olds get heartburn, right? We had red sauce for dinner, so it’s probably just that, and I’m overanalyzing this feeling.

She’s standing so close to me, petting Pickles as she lifts her lips, inspecting her gums and palpating as she works her way down her body to her abdomen. Her scent is intoxicating, like an orange cream isicle or something equally as sweet and delectable as she looks. The closer she gets, the more foggy my mind becomes.What the hell is happening to me?

“Okay, sweet girl, your daddy is gonna have to plop you on this table for me so I can get a better look at you.” I stand obediently, and Dr. Hughes takes the pink blanket and stuffy from me, placing it on the metal table in front of us. I place Pickles on top, and she groans.

Leaning down, I kiss her soft head and whisper to her, “You’re gonna be okay, pretty girl. The pretty lady doctor is gonna make you feel all better.” I’m rubbing her velvety ears when I finally look to my side and see Dr. Hughes staring at me with an inscrutable expression.

Chapter three

Lark

Did he just call me pretty while whispering to his sweet golden baby? The most gorgeous man on the planet, whose home games I used to attend every chance I got, just called mepretty.I was admittedly a tad shell-shocked when I stepped in the room, especially with how he was staring at me like he wanted to eat me, but now?Is it hot in here?I fight the urge to wave my hand like a fan to cool off. I’m burning up.

Back to business though. I’m sure I'll thoroughly dissect this entire encounter later. “I’d like to do an abdominal ultrasound on her to see if there’s any free fluid that might indicate bleeding from a bone fragment, and I’ll need to get some X-rays as well to better visualize it and determine what our next steps should be. I’d usually induce vomiting since it hasn’t been too long since she’s eaten, but being that she’s already looking sick, I don’t want to risk her puking up sharp fragments and causing more harm. Is it okay if I bring her back for those tests?”

He gives me a nod before asking, “Can I actually carry her back? I’ll stay out of your way, but she just likes to be held, and I don’t want anyone breaking their back trying to lug around her hundred-pound bulk.” I can tell he’s worried, and aside from when he’s on the field, he doesn’t strike me as someone who gets in people’s way.

“Yeah, of course. You’ll just have to step out when we do the X-rays.” I lead him back to the room where we do all of our tests and get started setting up the ultrasound. A while later, we’ve done all the necessary tests, and we’ve discussed a treatment plan.

“So I’m going to give her a shot of an anti-nausea medication to calm her tummy. It treats nausea and should help her keep fluids down. Then I’m gonna give her a few pieces of white bread coated in a couple of capfuls of mineral oil. The white bread will form around the chicken bone, and the mineral oil will act as a lubricant and laxative in her gut, so not only will she get it out sooner, but it’ll prevent some of that friction as it comes out. That way, she doesn’t have to deal with any unnecessary discomfort. If she doesn’t pass it in the next forty-eight hours, or if she looks worse, which means if you see her drooling more, panting, acting lethargic, or anything abnormal for her, just call and head over.” I ensure he understands the plan and is okay with everything before giving her the shot.

“Alright, pretty girl, you should be feeling better soon, sweetie pie,” I say, speaking softly to her as I rub her ears. They’re really just the softest ears ever. “Call if you have any questions or concerns, okay?” I smile at them, turning to leave just as Gianni wraps his large, warm hand around my arm. His hand is so large it completely dwarfs me, nearly covering my entire forearm.

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