Chapter 21
Garrett
I might’ve screwed everything else up, but I couldn’t afford to make a mistake now.
“Heading out!” I called to the shift supervisor. She looked up from where she was looking after a patient and nodded, turning back to the man seconds later.
“Getting your pup?” Helen was one of the veteran nurses on the floor. She’d been there to talk me off a ledge when I first started and still kept up on what was going on in my life.
“Yep.” I glanced at my watch, mentally calculating the time it would take to get to the shelter. I was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago, but a guy going into cardiac arrest in the emergency department waiting room meant it was all hands on deck until he was stabilised. “But I’m running late.”
“Go.” She gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. “Take a bit of extra time if you need it.”
“Extra time…” I looked at the chaos raging around us. “Rhys is on dog sitting duty today. He’s taken the day off work to make sure Bronson is OK.”
“Well, take lots of photos. I wanna see this pup when you get back,” she said.
“Helen…!”
Someone wanted her to put a line in, I bet. The woman could find a tricky vein more surely than an ultrasound could.
“Duty calls,” she said, pointing at me while pulling away. “Photos, Pretty Boy, photos.”
At this point, I’d be lucky if I could get the shelter owners to sign Bronson over to me. I’d set up the adoption meeting in my lunch hour, an optimistic decision I regretted right about now. The sound of an ambulance siren had my head jerking up, but when I took off at a run, it wasn’t to meet the medics at the door. There was always something happening in the ED and there were plenty of nurses on the floor. It was go now or go never, so out the door I went.
“Didn’t think you were gonna make it,” Rhys said as I jumped out of my car.
We were both standing outside the animal shelter, but I couldn’t see hide or hair of Rhett. He’d disappeared before we even got up the morning after the big reveal, making sure none of us tried to talk further about what happened with Katie. The intention had been that we’d all meet the dog, see how he responded to all of us to ensure we all meshed. I guess that was off the table as well.
“There was…” I smiled and shook my head. “Emergencies, many, many emergencies.”
“Of course there was.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, let's go in and meet this pup.”
“You’re here to adopt Bronson?” the girl behind the counter asked. I nodded. “I’ll just go get him.”
I wanted to pace, try to walk off the restless energy that burned inside me right now, but I needed to be calm and contained to put the dog at ease. I’d read article after article about traumatised dogs, glad that there seemed to be at least a degree of overlap with the techniques to use with traumatised people. Trauma-informed practise was something we’d had to sit through many a training session about. Dogs were even more sensitive than human beings, reading your body language and responding to your energy. I blinked, seeing those white scars that criss-crossed Bronson’s body and found my hands balling into fists.
“You OK?”
Rhys’ face swam into view, helping bring me back to the waiting room.
“Bronson, he was hurt badly…”
I want to be immune to it, the second hand pain of seeing people, animals, hurt for no good reason. God knew I’d seen enough of it to get jaded. I never did. The hushed silence that fell over an examining room when a woman staggered in, wide eyed and staring, or a child was covered in bruises. The quietly terse conversations nurses had amongst ourselves, working out if we needed to contact the authorities.
I wasn’t, and I never would be. Cruelty… it was this completely needless, wasteful yet persistently shitty part of humanity, and when I saw that dog… I didn’t need a cat or a dog. I needed to help him.
“We need to make sure he adjusts to the change,” I told Rhys in urgent tones. “That he feels safe and…”
Whatever else I had to say was cut off as the door opened. Not to admit Bronson, but Rhett. He strode across the floor, boots slamming down on the lino floor, the lead and collar he’d bought for the dog gripped tightly.
“Wasn’t sure if you were coming,” I said, and that earned me a hard stare.
“Said I would.”
Rhett bit off every word, but we all turned at the sound of dog paws scrabbling across the floor.
“He’s a bit reluctant,” the handler said between gritted teeth. Bronson was digging his claws into the soft floor, lunging backwards so hard the chain of his collar was cutting into his throat. A small whine had me moving forward.
“Bronson…?”
Would he remember me? The dog stopped pulling for a second, plonking his butt down on the ground and panting as he surveyed me, then the others.
“Holy shit,” Rhys hissed. “He’s a beast!”
“And you need to be really quiet for a second,” I said, moving slowly closer. “Hey, boy. Remember me?”
“He just might,” the girl said as the dog’s tail wagged momentarily.
There was something tentative about it, but it beat a rapid tattoo against the floor as I walked over. Slowly, surely, no sudden moves, those big brown eyes stared into mine. There was a mute plea there that was at odds with his appearance. He was this massive chonk of a dog, muscle thick on his frame, and yet what he was asking over and over was don’t hurt me.
“It’s alright, boy. It’s alright.”
I made sure I was wearing the same scrubs as the day we met, to help build a positive association. Down on my knees, the dog changed trajectory, slowly but surely creeping forward until he was straining against the lead to get to me. His nose worked as he breathed me in, then he let out a strange little noise, right as the girl let him go.
“Hey, buddy!”
Why the hell did I think I wanted a cat? No feline would throw himself at me bodily, pushing his whole body into mine in a doggy cuddle, would they? My arms moved slowly, wrapping around the dog to ruffle his fur, then stroke his ears.
“Well, look at that.” The girl stood up, shooting me a broad smile. “Never seen Bronson react like that. Well, except for the girl that takes him for walks. Looks like Katie was right to approve your application.”
My pats slowed for a second as I was reminded of that shit fight. Not for long, though. I wasn’t entirely on board with Rhys’ plan, but part of me still held out hope.
“Looks like we need to introduce you to the others now, boy.” I turned around and gestured for Rhys to come forward. “This is who’s gonna look after you today.”
“Hey, boy!”
He was down on his knees and beside the dog in seconds, something that had Bronson shying back. The dog’s ears were flat against his skull, his tail working furiously, even as he pressed into my chest.
“Slow.” I glared at him. “Quietly, remember?”
“Shit, sorry.” His face fell. “Hey, buddy. I’m sorry for moving too fast. Honestly, I’m not a total dick. Just ask the guys.”
“Still to be determined.” Rhett came a little closer and stopped a few steps away. The dog’s ears pricked up as he pulled a packet of dog snacks from his uniform pocket, his attention entirely trained on my friend as he tore it open.
“Bronson loves snacks,” the girl said in a warm voice. “Just put some on the floor… Yep, like that.”
Rhett set the snacks down in a line before him, and Bronson pulled free of my arms. Head down, tail wagging furiously, he crept closer. One snack then another was scarfed down before he paused. The dog looked at Rhett, then the last one, the man waiting patiently where he was crouched down, not moving an inch when Bronson finally stumped forward. He scoffed the last snack down fast because Rhett lifted his hand slowly. Holding the fingers out, Bronson stopped, then sniffed the air around them, finally moving closer to carefully lick the tips.
“You’ll be OK.” He moved his hand to the dog’s chest, giving it a scratch. We all watched Bronson’s back leg kick against the floor in response. “Won’t you, boy?”
Maybe, that was the final answer. I admit I felt a selfish satisfaction when Bronson came skittering back to me. It was an odd thing, to see a dog his size, with such powerful jaws, press into me, looking for comfort, but I gave him a pat and then swapped the leads over.
“Thanks for letting us adopt Bronson,” I told the girl.
“Thanks for taking him.” She shot a harried look over her shoulder. “He wasn’t going to last here much longer. We tried and tried to get him into a temporary foster home, but we couldn’t find one where he would be the only dog. He needs quiet and peace to heal, the poor thing.”
“Quiet and peace,” I reminded Rhys when we got the dog into my car. He was the only one who could take the day off work to help Bronson adjust. “No games, no balls, not even running the washing machine until we see how he adjusts.”
“So I’m off laundry duty?” Rhys grinned at me. “Bonus.”
“Look after him until five,” Rhett said. “I’ll be back after that in time for you to go into the gym tonight.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, turning on his heel and marching back to his truck.
“Well, maybe you can get him talking, boy.” Rhys gave the dog a quick pat. “Break down those walls, because god knows I can’t.” He pulled away. “Meet ya at home.”
“Ready, buddy?” I said as I slid behind the steering wheel. A massive head pushed through between the seats so Bronson could look out the window. “Let's get you home.”