Page 38 of To Belong Together
He propped himself up. Darkness pressed against the windows, and the clock reported it was almost nine. No sign of his other dog.
A pan clunked in the kitchen. He couldn’t blame Trigger for counter surfing. Dinner should’ve been served hours before.
Camo panted at him, looking dazed. Odd that he wasn’t wearing a cone. Erin had taken the dog to the vet, right? John tilted his head to see the stitched seam on the dog’s side, not unlike what ran along his own eyebrow. “Dogs take after their owners, huh, bud?”
Camo accepted a few seconds of attention before trekking after Trigger into the kitchen. More clunks sounded from that direction, followed by the murmur of a woman’s voice.
What? Who?
John stood but had to pause to steady himself. His pulse pounded against his skull a few times before settling back into a low-level headache that allowed him to proceed.
In the kitchen, Erin stood at the stove, stirring a small pot. She’d changed out of her uniform into jeans and a plain black sweatshirt that showcased gentle curves. Added to the way the vibrant blue ends of her hair flipped this way and that, she had a soft approachability.
“Both of you? Really? You had a job to do.” She pointed her spoon at Trigger, who licked his chops. If she didn’t watch it, he’d snatch that spoon before she saw it coming. “I don’t care how good you sit. You’re not getting any.”
The dogs sat at strict attention, Trigger’s rear end slipping out from under him because he struggled with traction on smooth floors. She must’ve fed them supper, or they’d be barking by now. That meant Trigger had gotten up once before, and John had been oblivious.
His own stomach turned, empty. He hadn’t eaten since the hospital. His pocket buzzed, and he took out his phone.
Gannon, of course. Impeccable timing.
John answered. “Hey, Mom.”
Erin spun from the stovetop.
Gannon faked a high voice. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
Erin sidestepped as the dogs pounced on the drips that had fallen from the spoon when she pivoted. She glanced at John, expression apologetic, then returned her attention to cooking.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
When Erin turned his way, skepticism pulled at her expression. Was that why she was hanging around? She thought he needed a babysitter?
Gannon seemed to think the same. “Call me in the morning, okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t care. Call me, or I’ll show up on your doorstep.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Gannon seemed to recognize that was the best he’d get and ended the call.
John slid the phone onto the table.
Erin peered over her shoulder. “Your mom’s worried?”
He circled the table and looked in the pot. “Soup?”
“Chicken noodle.”
He leaned against the counter and started to cross his arms before catching his elbow on the splint. He shoved the fingers of his good hand into his jeans pocket.
“I wouldn’t have stayed, but when I brought Camo home, he kept asking to go outside, but then he’d lie out there, drooling and panting. I kept bringing him in from the cold, but all he wanted was to go out again. He didn’t seem right. Taking off the cone seemed to help, but I didn’t want to leave him like that when you couldn’t watch him to make sure he wasn’t licking the stitches.”
While Trigger’s attention remained locked on the food, Camo had lain down, head on his front leg. John did feel better knowing Camo’d had the extra attention.
“Did he behave?”
