Page 14 of A Much Younger Man
Chapter Four
At six in the morning,I unlocked the door to the clinic and killed the alarms. We took turns sleeping in the clinic—April, Travis, and I—but only if we had animals who needed overnight care. I’d toyed with the idea of adding another vet to the practice, but so far that hadn’t been necessary. It would have been great to share my responsibilities with another DVM—especially on days after I’d been up all night—but it didn’t make fiscal sense. The clinic needed to be a lot busier before I could seriously consider that.
I followed the sound of soft snores and found Travis asleep on the cot in my office next to our current box of abandoned kittens. We often found pets, especially kittens, abandoned outside our back door. The little guys’ eyes were barely open, and for now, they required around-the-clock feeding with KMR—kitten milk replacement.
Travis had left unofficial feeding notes on the box, and I saw I could afford to let them all sleep for a while.
As I got coffee started, someone pounded on the back door.
I’d barely cracked it open when Beck fell inside with a nervous Callie at his heels. His breaths hitched as if he’d run. Tears streaked his face.
“What is it? What happened?”
He swiped angrily at his eyes. “Tug stole all my stuff last night. My God. I can’t believe he’d—”
“Slow down.” I gripped his shoulders. “I don’t understand. What happened?”
He sniffled. “I woke up this morning and Tug was just…gone. He took everything. He took my guitar.”
“Okay. Take a deep breath.” I locked the door and he let me guide him to one of the chairs in the waiting room. “You want coffee?”
“I want myshitback.”
“Sit down and tell me what happened.” I took one of the folding chairs and sat opposite.
“We got into a humongous fight last night.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “He was high, and—”
“On what?”
“I don’t know. Meth, probably. He used to have a…a drug problem.” He glanced away, embarrassed. “I told him I wouldn’t stick with him if he used, but he’s been acting off lately, and I knew something was up. I guess he scored last night. We got into it, and I said I wasn’t having it. When I woke up, everything was gone.”
Shit. “Is there any chance he’s just blowing off some steam.”
He shook his head. Poor kid. “No.”
His blue eyes, now ringed red with misery, streamed. I felt like I should smooth down his hair or something. I didn’t.
“Does he even play the guitar?” I asked.
“No.” Beck huffed a bitter laugh. “He’ll sell it. I worked for a year to get that guitar, and he’ll use the cash to get high.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“What will I do? That guitar is…everything. It’s all I have.”
“What about your family? Will they help you?”
He shook his head. “It’s only Mom and my stepdad. They were adamant. If I didn’t take Callie to a shelter, I had to leave.”
“Oh, Beck. I’m sorry. But she’s a beautiful animal. I’m certain she would find a loving home right away.” My words were callous, but rehoming Callie had to be better than a life on the street.
“So I should just get rid of her?” he asked, outraged.
“Beck, God knows I love animals, but I don’t think you being homeless because you want a dog is good for either you or the dog.”
He put his head in his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
