Page 2 of Healing You
He looked up to catch her wobbly expression. Eyes turned down, she swallowed hard and gestured to the back corner of their waiting area.
Steve pivoted slowly. The first thing to catch his eyes was an older yellow lab lying on the tiled floor. As his gaze went to the owner sitting on the floor beside the dog, he met the wet eyes of Yvonne… Yvonne—his high school sweetheart, his first love. And though they lived in the same town, he could count on one hand the number of times they'd interacted in the years since high school. Even as their eyes burned into each other's, his gaze fell to the scar on her arm. He flexed his fingers to keep from running his hand down his own scar marring his face. In any other situation, he'd turn the opposite direction and leave if he saw Yvonne. Only now, in his own damn office, that wasn't exactly an option.
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Gatsby's head. He'd seen Yvonne and Gatsby numerous times around town. Just because he avoided “Y vonne,” he said quietly, dropping the mail and rushing over to where she sat, cradling her dog talking to her, didn't mean he didn't notice her in the parks and at Elsa's. He noted the swollen lymph nodes around the dog's jaw. There was typically one reason that swelling of that nature happened— cancer.
Her hazel eyes filled with moisture and she buried her face into the dog's neck with a sniffle. “Hey, Steve. Sorry to barge in on you like this—”
His insides twisted like wringing laundry and his fingers twitched at his thighs. God, he wanted to cup her jaw, pull her into his chest and hold her until she stopped crying. But he'd lost that privilege long ago. Instead, he smoothed his palm gently over the dog's head. “Please. Don't apologize. Not ever,” he answered. He didn't deserve her apologies any more than he deserved her forgiveness. He lifted the dog's jaw, aiming its glossy, nearly vacant glare at his own eyes. “Hey buddy... what's going on, huh?”
A sharp breath hitched her chest. “He—he won't eat. Barely drank any water since last night. He's just not himself. And this—this swelling...” She sniffled again, running the back of her hand under her nose. “It just appeared last night.”
“Okay.” Steve pushed off his thighs to a standing position. “Let's have a look. Amanda, did you get his weight?”
She nodded, rushing over with a clipboard.
“Thank you,” he responded, but he was already focused on Yvonne and her dog. “So... Gatsby. You've been taking him over to the Laconia clinic for shots, I see.”
He wasn't gonna lie... that kinda hurt like a kick to the ribs. Not that he would admit that to her. To drive an extra thirty minutes to a competing vet just to avoid him? He gave an inward head shake. She must really hate him. Still. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing those awful words from the note thirteen years earlier that swirled in his head in Yvonne's cursive handwriting—I never want to see you again. Yeah, this hatred was definitely not new information. But that didn't mean it didn't still hurt like a bitch to acknowledge.
He looked up to Amanda once more. “Can you have them fax me his latest paperwork?”
“I already put the call in.”
Ah, thank God for that girl. To have an assistant who could anticipate your needs? She was worth far more than anything he could pay her.
He scratched Gatsby behind the ear once more. “C'mon fella. Can you walk?” Steve gave a whistle and pulled a MilkBone from out of his pocket.
Yvonne stood as well, with a gentle tug on the dog’s leash. They walked slowly into the exam room while Gatsby mustered up the energy, panting the whole way. Steve's gaze dipped over the length of Yvonne. Even though she was in yoga pants that were covered in long, wiry golden hair and an oversized T-shirt... damn, was she beautiful. Her face looked almost the exact same as it had in high school, but her body... wow. Her body had filled out. He could tell even beneath her casual clothes. Those leggings and that cotton shirt clung to her petite curves in just the right places, while still leaving a bit to the imagination. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in a smooth ponytail and her face was fresh, free from makeup. Steve inhaled silently as she passed him. She smelled summery —like cotton right out of the dryer and sunflowers. He hadn't been close enough to smell Yvonne in years.
And with that one quick scent, Steve was catapulted back into high school to a time when his dad had recently died and he didn't care about repercussions with Yvonne as his partner in crime. Seeing her now was a reminder to that first day they met in high school. Steve was a junior, and Yvonne was a sophomore getting a tour of her new school with Ronnie and Kyra when they walked into detention, where he was sitting quietly reading a comic book. She wore khakis and a polo shirt and nibbled on her index fingernail, leaning against the doorframe. He would have given just about anything in that moment to have been doing something cooler than reading Batman. They didn't say a word to each other. Ronnie introduced them, and as Steve went to wave, Mr. Bates shouted at them to leave Steve to finish his detention. That was it. One wave and he was hooked.
Bringing Yvonne and Gatsby into a private room, he shut the door behind them and began the normal exam things he did with any canine patient. Heart—good. Ears—good. Teeth—good. Then he moved on to feeling around the lymph nodes. Pretty much all swollen, though the ones at his jowls were the most prominent. As he moved through the exam, he could see Yvonne sitting in the corner, watching intently and nibbling on her cuticle. Some things never changed.
“How's the rescue?”
She looked up. “Huh? Oh. Right, the rescue. Um, it's fine. Good. We won that northeast grant. Paid for some outstanding invoices we had piling up.”
“That's great, congratulations.”
“And I managed to trap that mama cat and her kittens the other day. The ones that were living next to the library.”
“Oh yeah? So should I expect some vaccinations and a spay coming in?”
She cleared her throat, dropping her hand to her lap. “I already made the appointment with Amanda.”
There was an excruciating silence as Steve finished his exam. Flipping his stethoscope around his neck, he leaned against the counter. Yvonne's eyes widened as they stared at each other for a second that felt like a lifetime. Memories flooded his mind within that moment. Dates to the movies, shoplifting at the mall for that adrenaline rush before they would run away and make out in his car. Football games where Steve would steal Yvonne away from her cheerleading squad and make out with her beneath the bleachers.
“It's bad, isn't it?” she whispered, pulling him back to the present.
Tension choked high in his throat. He hated this part of the job. And while some veterinarians preferred to keep emotion out of it, that was never an option for him. He'd always feel the ache when a terminally ill dog came into his office. It would never be easy to put someone's pet—someone's best friend and family member—to sleep. And it shouldn't be easy. “We won't know anything conclusive until I do an aspirate of the lymph nodes—”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. While most people would have been grateful to delay bad news, Yvonne was never one to slowly peel a Band-Aid. “Just tell me.”
“Yvonne—” He pulled a chair over in front of her. For a moment, he considered placing a hand on her knee but thought better of it. “I mean it—I can't tell you conclusively until I look at the aspirate. But based on his symptoms and the swollen glands, I suspect he has cancer—lymphoma.”
A breath caught in her throat and she dodged his gaze, looking to the floor.
