can’t take her on my bike, though. I need you to come to me.”
“I don’t have a car,” she reminds me.
“You can borrow my truck.”
“Oh, right. I guess so. Text me where you are. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
“Thank you.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“And Xander?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
I chuckle. “Never.”
She hangs up and I text her my location before I put my phone away.
I look down at the helpless dog in my arms as the traffic passes us by.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, searching for the spot where the blood is coming from. I lay her down and remove my jacket and then my shirt so I can use my shirt to help stop the bleeding. I’m not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do, but it seems like the logical thing to do, so I’m going with it.
Her tongue lolls out of her mouth but her eyes stay firmly fixed to my face.
Since I have the best fucking luck in the world, it begins to rain. It doesn’t take long for me and the dog to be drenched, but I don’t care. I’m not leaving her.
When my Nissan Titan finally pulls up, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
Thea hops out and shrieks, “Where’s your shirt?” while waving her hands wildly at me.
“I used it for the dog.” I stand with the dog in my arms and head to the backseat of the truck to put her in. Thea gets the door for me and I lay the dog across the seat. Her breathing has grown more labored and a desperate ache has seized my chest. I don’t want anything to happen to her.
When she’s lying down and I don’t feel like she’s just going to roll off onto the floor, I step back. Thea’s standing beside me, her t-shirt and jean shorts soaked through, with her hair plastered to her forehead but she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. With one look she steals my breath and seals my fate. I’m hers.
I want to take her face between my hands and kiss her beneath the pouring rain.
But we have more pressing matters at hand than me wanting to kiss her.
“I need to get my bike in the back,” I tell her.
Thunder cracks in the distance and she shivers, looking up at the dark and rolling sky.
“Get in the car,” I tell her, but the stubborn woman refuses. I’m not the least bit surprised.
I start for the bike and Thea calls out, “Can you lift that on your own? Do you need help? Xander, please don’t break your spleen.” She winces as I pick up the bike.
“Are spleens even real things?” I ask as I roll my bike to the back of the truck and lift it onto the bed. My muscles scream in protest from the weight of the motorcycle but I refuse to leave it here to be potentially stolen.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I’d have to Google it.” She shivers again as I pick up my jacket from the ground.
“I’ll drive,” I tell her, heading for the driver’s side.
She doesn’t object.
When we’re seated in the car and I’ve pulled back onto the road she says, “I already Googled nearby emergency vet clinics. There’s one about five miles away.”
“Perfect. You tell me the way.”
She gives me directions, and in no time, we’re pulling into the circular drive of the clinic as lightning strikes in the distance.
“You can stay here,” I start to say, but she’s already hopping out of the car.
I get the dog from the back and my stomach gnaws with worry. She doesn’t look good. Her breaths are feathering and barely there and her eyes are only open a slit.
When I get inside, Thea’s already there telling them what’s happened and in moments, a metal gurney is brought out and they instruct me to lay the dog on it.
She’s wheeled away from us like we’re in a real hospital and I watch helplessly, wondering if this is the last time I’m going to see her alive.
I mean, it’s not like she’s my dog, but she’s an innocent creature that’s been hurt and I care about her. I’ve always had a soft spot for