Page 237 of Mountain Daddy
Headlights fillmy rearview mirror as I slow, the sign for Lonely Peak Vet Clinic just up ahead.
The rain has slowed to a steady stream rather than a downpour, but my body is still tense with stress as I turn into the small parking lot.
The headlights follow me. And as I pull into a parking spot, I look over as the truck parks in the spot next to mine.
Luther’s truck.
He’s here.
I start crying all over again, choking on an inhale.
I’ve learned my lesson.
I don’t want to do the hard things alone anymore.
And Luther is here, so I don’t have to.
Turning off the engine, I push my door open as Luther rounds the back of his truck, meeting me at the side of my car.
I’m soaking wet. A total mess. But Luther doesn’t stop walking until our bodies collide and he wraps me in a hug.
Tears fall from my eyes as worry and relief war inside my chest.
Luther presses a kiss to my head, then grips my shoulders and steps back. “It’s going to be okay. Okay?”
I swallow and nod. “Okay.”
He looks through the rear driver-side window.
Buddy is there, wrapped in a towel I snagged off a shelf in the garage before settling him onto the back seat. His broken leg is sticking out the top of the towel, so there, hopefully, wouldn’t be any pressure on it.
“Grab your purse.”
Following directions, I turn back to my open door, reach across to the passenger seat, and grab my things. The bag of coffee reminds me that I left the other one lying in the driveway.
I hear the rear door open, and by the time I stand back up, Luther has Buddy in his arms.
The little guy is awake but looks dazed.
“If you bite me, I’m going to be pissed,” Luther tells the fox, then looks at me. “Get the doors.”
Happy for the task, I push both car doors shut, then hurry ahead to the front door of the vet clinic.
A few other vehicles are in the parking lot, and as I hold the door open for Luther, another pickup turns into the lot.
I was too frantic when I was searching for a vet in my GPS, so I didn’t take the time to read if this is really an emergency vet or if it’s just a regular vet, but I have to believe Luther when he said they’d take care of Buddy.
Following my boys inside, the cool air sends an instant shiver through my body.
I internally curse myself for not already packing my overnight bag because I’m going to need a doctor, too, if I stay in these wet clothes for hours.
“Afternoon, how can I…” The woman behind the front desk trails off, eyes widening as she looks at Buddy.
“Our dog was hit by a car.” Luther doesn’t waver. “His leg is broken, and he hit his head.”
A whimper catches in my throat.
I don’t think I told him about Buddy’s head, but Luther must’ve seen the blood for himself.
