Page 51 of Love in Training
I sink to my knees and turn on my phone’s flashlight, trying to see his face jammed under my couch. He’s turned at an angle, facing away, but my eyes widen when I notice a clear liquid puddle of drool under his muzzle.
I sit up. Touch his body again. He shudders and tenses.
I dial the vet, aware of my pulse picking up. But it’s after five on a Saturday, and I get a message saying they’re closed. It directs me to call an emergency number, so I do.
“Hi, this is Veterinary Emergency. How can I help you?”
“Um, hello.” I clear my throat, my voice weirdly choked. “Uh, there’s something the matter with my dog. I... I’m kind of worried?”
The voice is calm. “Sure. Can you describe what’s going on?”
“Well, he’s under the couch and he won’t respond to anything.”
“What kind of dog is this? How old is he? Has he eaten anything recently? Is there a chance he swallowed something he shouldn’t have?” The questions come so fast I can hardly follow. “What’s his respiration? Have you taken his temperature?”
“His temperature?” I touch his limp tail on the floor. How do you even do that? “Look, I don’t have a lot of equipment. He isn’t that old—can you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“Not without getting a picture of what might have happened, unfortunately. If you’re not sure, you might want to bring him in so we can examine him.”
I jot down the address before darting into the hall and knocking on Darius and Todd’s door. When nobody answers, I knock harder. The elevator pings behind me, and my neighbor Arlene gets out wearing one of those plastic rain bonnet things over her gray-blue hair.
“Boy, I tell you, it’s cats and dogs out there. I nearly got soaked just getting from my Uber into the building.” She pauses, looking at me banging like an idiot on Darius’s door. “You know those boys went down to Mount Princeton for their anniversary.”
“I . . . they did?”
She nods with a warm smile. “My husband used to take me down there. Hot springs are so romantic.”
For a moment I consider begging her to help me get the dog out from under my couch. Until I remember she’s eighty-four and gets winded carrying her grocery bags in from the elevator.
I slip back into my apartment, half hoping Rufus will be running around freaking out because I left. Or even just bark or run to greet me. But he’s in the same spot. If anything, the amount of drool pooling under my sofa has grown. Never in a million years did I think I’d wish to hear his whimpering whine again, but now, as I lay a hand on his trembling leg, I think I’d give anything to see him wandering around, pacing and making that sound.
A loud clap of thunder breaks the silence, and we both jerk in response. I need to get him to the vet, but when I pull out my phone, I don’t know who else to dial. I wish I could call Kyle, ask him what I should do. Tell him I’m trying to take care of his dog like he wanted, but I don’t know how.
I pull my knees to my chest and start to rock because it’s happening again—I’mfailinghim. I don’t know what to do.
And then I feel a crumpled piece of paper in my leggings pocket. I pull it out and stare at the creased business card for K9 Academy. What else have I got to lose?
The phone rings and rings. I doubt anyone will answer after hours, and I’m right. It goes straight to voicemail. But I dial again, trying to decide whether it’s worth leaving a message, because I don’t have any other options. But then the ringing stops, and a deep, too-familiar voice comes on the line.
“Hello? This is Drew.”
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Drew Forbes fillsmy entire doorframe when I answer his knock. His hair is wet. As is his jacket. Raindrop dot his glasses, and behind them, his green eyes flash with something unreadable. Contempt, if I had to guess. For a moment, I consider blocking his way. After he grabbed me back at the high school, I don’t want him anywhere near meorthe dog, let alone in my apartment. When I racked my brain trying to figure out how to help Rufus, this man was my literal last resort. The only reason I called him was because he’s asked about the dog every time I’ve seen him. I figured if he truly cares on any level, he might at least help me get him to the vet. But now that he’s here, glaring at me from the hall, I’m afraid this was a mistake. Do I offer him a towel or shut the door in his face?
“Are you going to let me in so I can help him?” he asks.
I frown at his tone and point to my doorbell camera. “There’s time-stamped video of you arriving, already uploaded to the cloud. My brother can access it any time. I also texted my best friend. She knows you’re here too.”
His brows rise. “What... ?” But then his mouth presses into a line, and he just nods. I take a breath and step aside.
“He’s under the couch.”
Drew crosses the threshold, spotting Rufus on the floor as he moves into my living room. “How long has he been like this?”
I glance at the clock and wince. “I’m not sure. Maybe a couple hours?”
