Page 23 of Saddles and Snowstorms
I nodded, still stroking Hank’s head. “Understood.”
“I’ve written a prescription for pain medication and antibiotics.” He placed a small paper bag on the counter beside me. “Twice daily with food. The antibiotics are important—don’t skip them even if he seems better.”
“I won’t,” I promised, finally looking up at him.
Rowan’s face was unreadable, but I could see fatigue in the lines around his eyes. His short brown hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. There was that scar on his jaw, the one I’d always wondered about but never asked.
“What do I owe you?” I asked, reaching for my wallet.
Rowan waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll have Tara send you a bill.”
“Nah, I’ll pay now,” I insisted, pulling out my wallet. Didn’t want him thinking I’d skip out on the bill. “How much?”
He sighed, those green eyes flickering up to mine for just a second before looking away. “Fine. Four hundred and fifty.”
I counted out the cash—I always kept a decent amount on me, didn’t trust banks much—and held it out to him. Our fingers brushed again when he took it, and this time, neither of us pulled away quite so fast.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice rough. “For takin’ care of him even after hours. After... everything.”
Rowan busied himself writing out a receipt, shoulders tense. “I’m a vet, Brooks. It’s my job to take care of animals, regardless of who their owners are.”
The words stung, even though I deserved them. Hell, I deserved worse after what I’d said to him.
“Still. Appreciate it.” I cleared my throat. “Need help getting him to my truck?”
Rowan hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve got a stretcher we can use. He shouldn’t be putting weight on that leg yet.”
We worked together in silence, sliding the canvas stretcher under Hank’s groggy form. The dog whimpered a little, and I found myself murmuring nonsense to him just to let him know everything was alright.
“Easy does it,” Rowan said as we lifted together. His voice was soft, meant for Hank, not me. “That’s a good boy.”
Our eyes met over Hank’s body as we carried him through the clinic.Rowan’s gaze was guarded, professional, but I could see the hurt there, buried beneath the surface. It was the same look he’d had yesterday when I’d told him to leave me the hell alone, that I didn’t need his city-boy pity. That I didn’t want him around me at all.
God, I’d been a fool.
We eased Hank into the passenger seat of my truck, arranging him carefully so his cast wasn’t pressed against anything.
“He’s still pretty out of it,” Rowan said, checking Hank’s pupils with a small penlight. “He should be more alert by morning. Call me if he shows any signs of distress.”
“I will.” I stood awkwardly beside him, both of us illuminated in the harsh glow of the clinic’s exterior lights. Our breath clouded in front of us, the night turning colder than expected.
Rowan stepped back, putting professional distance between us again. “Remember, no weight on that leg. And make sure he takes all the antibiotics.”
“Got it.” I hesitated, one hand on my truck door. The night was still around us, just the sound of wind and the occasional distant lowing of cattle. “Listen, Doc—Rowan—about yesterday...”
“Don’t.” His voice was sharp as he cut me off. Those green eyes flashed. “You were perfectly clear. I don’t need an explanation.”
“I wasn’t clear. I was an asshole.” I took off my hat, ran a hand through my hair. “What I said... it wasn’t right.”
Rowan crossed his arms, his face half in shadow. “Which part? The part where you said you didn’t need my pity or the part where you told me to leave you alone for good?”
I flinched at his words. Hearing them thrown back at me made me realize just how cruel I’d been.
“All of it,” I admitted, my voice low. “I was outta line.”
Rowan stood there, the clinic’s light casting shadows across his face. For a moment, he just looked at me, those dark green eyes searching mine like he was trying to find something worth believing in.
“You were,” he finally said. “But I shouldn’t have pushed. You made it clear from the start you weren’t looking for...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely between us.
