Page 39 of Faking I Do
“Of course.”
“All right, then.” I turned the key and threw the truck into drive. The beavers would have to wait. I’d become more attached than I thought I would to the pup Lacey held in her arms. More than I should have.
Lacey ran her hand over Shotgun’s side. “You’ll be okay, hon.”
I reached over to rub Shotgun’s belly, my hand nudging Lacey’s. She looked up and my heart bounced around in my chest.
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Lacey asked.
“Of course. They’ll probably just make her throw up. She’ll be back to her bad manners in no time.” To further prove my point, I covered Lacey’s hand with mine and gave it a squeeze.
Lacey nodded then turned her head toward the window. She held tight to my hand though, making me all too aware of how fragile she suddenly seemed. She’d lost someone close to her already. Although, comparing the loss of her mom to her fear of losing Shotgun didn’t seem fair. With luck and hopefully a talented vet at the emergency center, she wouldn’t have to go through losing anyone else. Not if I had anything to say about it.
By the time we pulled into the clinic, Shotgun had begun to shake. I scooped her off Lacey’s lap and raced into the clinic. Since we’d called ahead, someone met me at the door and ushered me back to a room right away. Lacey followed, her face reflecting my own fear. After everything the dog had been through, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something bad happened and I hadn’t been able to prevent it.
The vet tech got Shotgun settled on the table as the vet came into the room.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Yang.” She shook both of our hands then quickly got to work examining Shotgun. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I glanced to Lacey, then spoke up. “We think she ate a number of cigars.”
“What do you mean by ‘a number’?” Dr. Yang pressed a stethoscope against the dog’s chest then moved it around.
“I’m not sure. A handful of them. Maybe three to five?” I shrugged. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Nicotine is very dangerous for dogs, especially smaller breeds. But even a dog her size can be affected. How long ago did this happen?”
“About an hour,” Lacey said.
The vet nodded. “We’re going to give her something to make her throw up then probably start an IV to help flush out her system. We’ll be moving her to one of the back rooms so if you want to head out to the waiting room, I’ll let you know when we have more information.”
“Okay.” I ran a hand down Shotgun’s side. The dog looked up at me. “You’re going to be okay, girl.”
Lacey rubbed Shotgun’s head. “We’ll be right outside.”
I reached for Lacey’s hand, twining my fingers with hers as the vet tech picked up Shotgun and carried her out of the room.
“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Lacey turned her gaze to me, her lower lip trembling.
“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.” I wanted more than anything to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be just fine. But I didn’t want to be a liar. I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. “Hey, why didn’t you ever get a dog or a cat when you were growing up?”
She glanced at me then dropped her gaze to where my hand wrapped around hers. “We had a cat, remember?”
All of a sudden, an image of a tiny orange-and-white tabby formed. Shortly after her mom died, Lacey found a stray kitten. She’d cared for that little cat like her life depended on it. Looking back, it probably had. I’d been so busy then trying to be there for Luke while he grieved. Neither one of us paid much attention to Lacey and her crusade to save the kitten. She ended up losing it. The cat was too young.
“That’s right. You had that kitten for a little while.” I leaned forward, resting my elbow on my knee.
“Not long enough.” She reached up and swiped at her cheek.
Dammit, was she crying?
“Hey.” I let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulder instead. Pulling her close, I nestled her against my chest in an awkward, side-by-side hug. “It’s okay. Shotgun’s going to be fine.”
It was over almost as soon as it started. She sat up, sniffled, wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, and cleared her throat. “We never got another pet because . . .”
I waited for her to finish the thought. The way she was with Shotgun, hell, the way she was with people, I couldn’t understand how she’d never owned a cat or dog. Lacey was a fixer. She took care of people. I’d seen her go out of her way to help anyone in need. It didn’t make sense that she’d never turned that toward a pet. “Because why?”
“Because pets die.” She looked up at me again. “They leave you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
