Page 24 of High Density

I catch up with her by the door.

Her dog doesn’t growl at me this time but is still a little tentative when she greets me.

“Does she need to go out?” I ask.

Janey, who is already pulling stuff from her fridge, shoots me a glance over her shoulder.

“Shoot. Yeah, probably. Sorry, girl.”

“I can take her.”

“Make sure you grab the leash, it’s on the hook by the door. I don’t want her to try and go after some critter. I don’t take her too far yet, usually just out on the side of the house.”

I find the leash and clip it on the dog’s collar.

“I should probably fence in part of the yard for her. I’ll add it to the other million-and-one items on my to-do list for this house.”

She mutters the last, but I catch it.

“Show me that list when I get back. I can help,” I offer as I walk Ginger out the door.

I’ve got tools, am pretty good with my hands, and enjoy the work. I helped Dan when he was building his house, and worked on Jackson’s bathroom renovation a few months ago. I wouldn’t mind another project to keep me busy, with as an added benefit that I’d get to hang around Janey more. I could get started on her list this week; I already have a few extra days off.

Plus, I could do with the distraction.

Janey

“Oh, that’s Logan.”

JD wanted to know whose vehicle he’d seen pulling out from behind the clinic, which is where Logan usually parks his car.

“Who’s Logan?” JD asks, still standing by the front window, peering out.

He insisted on doing the dishes after dinner, but I then shooed him out of the kitchen. I’m just putting away the dishes.

“He’s my assistant,” I explain. “We’ve got a sick potbelly pig who needs regular injections, so Logan is staying with him in the barn. There’s a small bedroom, with a bar-sized fridge and a microwave in the barn for situations like this, but no real place to cook. He’s probably just gone to grab something to eat in town.”

I should probably check in with him when he gets back, to see how our patient is holding up.

“Do you want tea or coffee?”

JD turns away from the window and heads back to the kitchen. “Coffee would be good.”

I load a coffee pod in my Nespresso and slide a mug underneath the spout, before plugging in the kettle for tea for myself. If I drink coffee, I’ll be up half the night. I lean against the counter, listening to the machine gurgle while I let my thoughts drift.

It’s nice both JD and I are quite comfortable sharing silences. It allows me to be myself and not constantly worry about making awkward small talk.

After our brief conversation in the truck, his family hasn’t come up again, and I’m not about to be the one to broach that sensitive subject. I feel it’s safe to assume communication is a bit of a challenge, which is really no different in my family.

There is love, but that doesn’t mean we necessarily understand each other. The fact I live less than seventy miles from my parents but have seen them maybe four or five times in the past sixteen months should tell you enough. Sure, I have a very busy clinic, but a lot of that is my own doing as well. I like working hard, but it’s a convenient shield at times as well.

Much—if not all—of my identity is rolled into the work I do and being good at it. There isn’t a whole lot to me when you stripaway the vet. It’s what gives me substance, otherwise I’d fade into the background.

“So where is that list of yours?” JD reminds me when I hand him his coffee.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get to it eventually,” I tell him, a little embarrassed I haven’t even made a start on all the things that need attention.

He raises one dark eyebrow. “Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to help.”

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