Page 93 of Coach
“I’m just going to take a shower,” I said, grabbing my change of clothes.
There was silence for a beat. Then, “Okay. I’ll take Trix out then.”
I squeezed my eyes shut at the distance in his voice, the guards he was putting in place to protect himself from my suddenly sharp edges.
I would make it up to him.
I just needed a couple of minutes to myself to pull it together, to remind myself that just because I was keeping a few secrets didn’t mean I wasn’t giving him mostly the truth.
Try as hard as I could, though, there was a lingering tension between us all through breakfast and while taking Trix for a walk.
Saul didn’t reach for my hand.
I was too sad about that fact to just reach for his instead.
That afternoon, when he helped Trix into my backseat, our goodbye felt strange, awkward, like we were strangers again.
As I drove away, my heart felt like it was cracking right down the center.
And I had this bone-deep fear that I was never going to see Saul again.
I dropped Trix at home and dragged myself to work, wanting something to do to distract myself from the sensation of something slipping between my fingers.
Something that felt a hell of a lot like love.
I blamed that distraction.
For not realizing my house was too dark when I made it home later that night, that the lights I left on for Trix (and my own sanity) were out.
For not immediately having my panic alarms going off when Trix didn’t come bounding toward me the second she heard the door unlock.
“Trix?” I called, reaching to flick on a light, but no illumination came.
My stomach twisted as I felt around for the lamp on the table, pressing the button.
Again, nothing.
Was the power out?
Was that why Trix was upset?
“Trixie, girl,” I tried, pitching my voice sweeter even as the familiar panic started to course through my veins, making my chest feel tight and my heart punch against my ribs. “Come here, baby.”
I’d just moved into the doorway to the kitchen when I saw her.
Lying on her side.
A prone figure in the dark.
“Trix!” I yelped, rushing forward to drop down beside her, my hands going to her chest.
It was rising and falling.
But no matter how much I shook her, she wasn’t waking up.
Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? Did I need to get her to the emergency vet? Have her stomach pumped?
“Trix, wake up, baby. Don’t do this to me,” I cried, fumbling for my phone.
