Page 26 of Butterfly

“The impact?” I shuffle the fur, trying to understand the extent of the bruise.

“He should’ve hit the glass with his other side, but he definitely hit something. I’ll apply a cream on the bruise.” She pulls her mask off, blowing out a breath. “Listen, I want him to stay here tonight. There’s a room in the back with a small office and a sofa bed. I’ll keep him warm and well-hydrated and check his vitals every couple of hours, and I’ll be ready to intervene in case of need. You won’t have anything to worry about.”

I frown. “I’m staying here too.” I yank off my gloves. “I’m not going anywhere.” I expect her to argue, but she nods.

“I understand. I’d do the same. The clinic is closed on Sunday, so no one is coming in tomorrow. But I’ll ask Tyler to take a look at Dart if something happens. He should be back tomorrow night.” She beckons me to follow her.

We put Dart on a soft mattress in the long room at the back. A desk with a laptop takes up a corner. Shelves filled with unidentifiable medical supplies line a wall. Dog hairs cover the light-blue sofa, and there’s a kitchen area with mugs, a kettle, and pictures of cute puppies and kittens on a board. I struggle to imagine Tyler fitting into this room and pouring tea.

“Why is the clinic called Harry Bancroft’s clinic?” I ask.

“It’s Tyler’s full name. Harry Tyler Bancroft Jr.”

Right. That explains why Vance couldn’t find anything.

Sienna points to a door on the left. “There’s a bathroom and a toilet down there. We also have a washing machine and a dryer in case you want to clean your clothes.”

I gaze down. Between Dart’s blood and the sweat, my suit is a mess. Not that I care about ruining it, but I stink of sweat, blood, and chemicals, and I need to wash the dread out of me. “Yeah, I’d like a shower.”

“Clean scrubs over there.” She points at the shelves with the supplies. “I’m sure you’ll find something in your size. Tyler’s scrubs should fit you, and you’ll find new toothbrushes in the cabinet. Tyler keeps them in case of an emergency like this one. He’s a control freak in case you haven’t noticed that.” She covers Dart with a blanket and examines his eyes.

“I have.” After I select a set of scrubs, I glance one last time at Sienna, who’s checking the drip, before I stagger towards the bathroom.

I’m shivering as I stand in the narrow shower and let the hot water sluice down my body. If Sienna hadn’t been there, I’m not sure Dart would have survived. Shaky breaths leave me at the thought of watching him die. When the quivers stop, and the hot water relaxes my stiff body, I towel myself dry and rub my shoulders. The pair of blue scrubs is rough on my skin and smells like bleach, but it’s a nice change from my dirty clothes.

When I enter the room, the sofa is now a double bed with a pair of pillows and inviting, clean bed sheets. I unclench my fists at the sight of Dart breathing rhythmically, his chest lifting and falling under the blanket.

Sienna is typing on the laptop, but she smiles, gazing up at me. “I’ll take a shower and do a wash now.” Her gaze rakes over me in a cold, clinical way I’m not sure I like. What does it take to ignite the sapphire flames of her eyes? “Are you comfortable in those scrubs?”

“Yes. The top is a bit tight around the chest, but it’ll do.” My wet hair drips water onto the fabric, and maybe I’m too tired, but I could swear that a spark flickers in her gaze. So, the fire is burning under that composure.

She pats her bun. “I’ll be right back.”

As she takes a shower, I sit next to Dart and caress him. The bedding is warm. An electric blanket warms it. With his mouth half open, the tip of his pink tongue sticks out. His paws are warm, and his big nose is wet. The only sign of his ordeal is the four-inch wound on his neck. Without the fur, his skin appears pale and swollen around the small stitches. Shit. My throat tightens again. Pull yourself together. He’s fine. He survived.

The noise of the washing machine rumbles from the laundry as Sienna saunters into the room. Her hair is twisted in a heavy braid, and the scrubs can’t mask the sensuous curves of her body, the flare of her hips, and the fullness of her breasts.

“What do you think happened?” she asks, placing the wet towels on a rail. Her green apple scent is refreshing after the smell of disinfectant.

I keep stroking Dart’s fur. “He was playing with Catcher. He must’ve hit the glass and smashed it.”

“Hmm.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. It’s distracting, which is good. “He must’ve hit the glass with a lot of strength to have broken it.”

“He’s a big dog. So is Catcher, and Martin said something about having to replace that glass.”

She steps closer, tilting her head. “How did you get him?”

“My mum found him starving in her yard and took him in. When I visited her, I decided to adopt him. Love at first sight. He didn’t leave my side from the moment he saw me. I called him D’Artagnan.” I grin, scratching his ear. “Only to discover that the name was too bloody long to train him. He wouldn’t listen. So I shortened it. He drives me mad sometimes—too much energy—but he keeps me sane as well. That’s my dog in a nutshell.” I caress the back of his neck. “It took him a while to grow strong again. Don’t know what happened to him, but he had panic attacks sometimes. He likes his food. Once, he stole my steak straight from my plate. I got distracted for a split second, and the next, my plate was empty. And he knows how to open the fridge. I have to put a lock on the door.” Hell, I’m rambling. “When I walk him in the park, he gets all muddy. He jumps straight into the puddles—” A muffled sob escapes me. The tension of the night, the argument with Vance, and the fear for Dart are bursting out of me with the strength of a storm. I lean my forehead on my arm, fighting the tears.

Sienna’s gentle hand rubs my back in slow circles. “He’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“I know.” My voice comes out all croaky. “He means a lot to me. I’m often alone when I don’t work or surrounded by people who don’t care about me. But he’s different. He knows me. He doesn’t care that I’m famous.” Dammit, I can’t stop babbling. What the hell?

Her arms wrap around me, and I hug her small frame, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I don’t care if I look like a wuss. Sienna won’t judge me. But I’d be lying if I said that I don’t care about what she might think of me. She holds me and lets me vent my fear and frustration on her shoulder. The kinder she is, the harder I sob. Great.

“I’m sorry.” I pull away and wipe my eyes, trying to hide my face.

“Don’t be. Not with me.” She squeezes my hand. “Especially after I ignored you for months. I think I owe you one.”

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