Page 25 of Undone

Then suddenly, I remembered—Dorian was a vet.

Of course he was.

I’d even blurted out some awkward comment about him liking puppies…

Now is not the time to revisit that particular train wreck of a memory.

Dorian could help, at least tell me what to do. I felt an immediate rush of relief and dread all at once.

I tapped his name, holding the phone to my ear, hoping he’d answer quickly. I continued to pet the dog’s side, my breaths more even now.

He answered on the second ring, his voice a low timbre. “Hello?”

“Dorian, I need your help,” I said, keeping one hand on the dog’s side, feeling the faint rise and fall of his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I found a dog in an alley near my apartment. He’s hurt and… I’m… I’m not sure what to do.”

“Is he bleeding?” he asked, his tone immediately shifting to one of focused concern.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, peering through the gloom to better assess the dog’s condition. “But his paw looks broken, and he’s really dirty and scared.”

“Are you close to your apartment?”

“Yeah, just a few blocks away,” I replied.

“Okay,” he replied. “I know a vet nearby. Send me your location.”

I tapped at my phone, quickly sending off my cross streets. “Okay, just sent it.”

“Got it. Let me get ahold of her.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks,” I said, and then the line went dead.

A few minutes later, he called me back to let me know someone was on the way. He then guided me through each step, carefully explaining how to keep the dog comfortable and what to do until she arrived.

I followed his instructions. His patience was a tangible force, grounding me in the moment.

For a few seconds, the noise in my head quieted as I focused. A silence stretched between us, and I found myself absently rubbing the dog’s side.

Finally, Dorian’s voice broke through the silence. “Noah?”

“Yeah?”

He paused, and I could hear the slight shift, like he was carefully choosing his next words. “Are you sure he’s a boy?” He chuckled, giving me something to focus on.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. I looked down at the dog, his head resting on my knee, and gently examined him. “I guess I just assumed,” I said, the tension slowly unwinding as I focused on the task at hand. “But definitely a boy. Poor guy’s had a rough day.”

“You’re doing great. Sarah should be there soon.”

“Thanks,” I replied, a sigh of relief slipping out. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You can always call me,” he said. A beat of silence passed before he added, “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” I said, giving him the default answer everyone had received from me lately.

“I’ve been think—” There was a sudden silence on the other end. Then he said, “Worried about you.”

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