Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Thanks for coming. I didn’t know who else to call.”
The distant, hazy words—half heard through the anesthesia still coursing through his system—slowly penetrated Miles’s brain. Who was Wes talking to?
“He refuses to go to a rehab clinic, and I’ve taken as much time as I can.”
“I understand,” a soft, soothing voice answered. “But is he okay with it?”
“He’s going to have to be. I can leave meals for him, but I can’t figure out a way to make sure Nix is taken care of while I’m at the fire station, and I have to be back tomorrow.”
Muttered words indistinguishable in Miles’s suspended state followed, then, “It went well. The doctor is hopeful he’ll even be able to walk again, though he may never lose the limp entirely.”
Miles drifted out, but as the voices approached, they became louder, clearer. “I’m not even sure I should leave him, but I can’t think of a better idea. Maybe I should have forced him...”
“You know there’s no forcing Miles to do anything.”
Oh, he knew that voice.
Abby.
Why had she come here?
Probably visiting him like one of her patients.
Didn’t she remember he already had a dog to comfort him?
The door swung open after a brisk knock, and Miles slitted his eyes at the sudden brightness.
Nails tapped the floor, but the shadow silhouetted in the doorway leapt forward. “No, Nix. Not now, boy.”
The sound stopped, and Miles managed to roll his head enough to find his dog’s head resting on the edge of the bed.
Nix whuffled at Miles, then whined, his tail whipping back and forth.
Abby—when had Abby arrived? —placed a calming hand on the dog’s head. “Easy.”
Nix sat.
No surprise. Abby had a way with dogs. And patients.
She perched on the edge of the bed and rested a comforting hand on Miles’s arm. Much like his dog, her soothing presence settled the lingering unease twisting through his chest. She had come for a visit. Because she cared.
He’d never thought of Abby as his boss—he viewed himself more as an independent contractor who partnered with her—but her approach certainly differed from Captain Ross’. He hadn’t seen his captain since he’d failed the CPAT. But Abby was here.
“Miles, are you paying attention?”
“Mmm,” he mumbled.
“Wes will stay here for a couple weeks longer, until you’re able to get around on your own, but he has to go back to work. He’s out of vacation days, and he’s gone too long on his shifts for Nix. Are you okay if I bring him home with me?”
Wait, what? She wanted to take his dog?
“No,” he croaked.
What would he do without Nix’s comforting presence?
“Just for a little while, I promise,” she reassured him. “Until you’re able to care for him again.”
“Potty pads.” He struggled upright. “He can use potty pads in the corner there.”
“Shh, don’t thrash. If you move around too much, you’ll tear something else.” Abby placed her hand on his chest and pressed him back down to the bed.
His body shook, resisting her firm touch, but failed, flopping inelegantly back into the pillows, weakness in every limb. How would he take care of Nix? How would he take care of himself with Wes working twenty-four-hour shifts?
“You can’t...” he gasped.
“Okay,” Abby relented. “Okay, I won’t. Not until you give me permission.”
Miles shook his head, wanting to reply, but as the haziness returned, his eyes slid closed.
When he opened them again, Abby met his gaze steadily, her hand rhythmically petting Nix’s head as the dog sat patiently beside her.
“How long...?”
“A couple hours.”
“You should go.” Miles scowled, his head clearer than the last time he’d woken. “I’m not one of your patients.”
“No, you’re my friend.”
As if her definitive words ended the conversation, she returned her attention to Nix, scuffling his ears the way the dog liked.
His arm weighed ten thousand pounds. More than both the shoulder weights from his CPAT, but he still managed to drag it out from under the blankets and flop it over the side of the bed.
Nix glanced at it, then whined, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Go on, but stay down. He’s not ready for you to jump up, yet.”
The dog must have understood. He slowly approached Miles’s hand, licked it once, then ducked beneath it.
Tears clogged his throat. How long had it been since his CPAT? A month? Longer? He’d lost track of time.
How long had his loyal friend been waiting at his side, wondering when they’d go out and work again?
Wondering when he’d be able to throw the ball for a rousing game of fetch.
Wondering if they’d ever take a walk together again, something they’d lost all those months ago when he’d first been injured.
One stupid accident had cost him so much.
Miles swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You’ll take good care of him?”
“I did the last time, didn’t I?” Her voice remained gentle, more than he deserved, but exactly what he needed. “Gen will be thrilled. The pups annoy her, so she’ll be glad to have a friend closer to her own age.”
Miles ignored Abby’s lie—Gen loved the pups—but he appreciated the effort.
“Okay.” He closed his eyes. “You’ll bring him for a visit?”
“Anytime you want.”
“And take him to see some kids,” Miles insisted. “He probably misses them.”
A vision of Nix lying on his back on the carpet in Jif’s classroom, surrounded by children, flashed through his mind.
“I will. You rest up. Feel better, okay?”
Abby rose, and Nix followed her, tail low, but ears up, curious and interested.
Before she could pull the door closed, Miles cleared his throat, words crowding out of his mouth before he could think better of them.
“Jif... is she...?”
Abby paused, then turned back to him. “I haven’t talked to her lately. After Colton’s trade...”
“Colton was traded?”
“A couple weeks ago. To San Francisco.”
Miles struggled to sit up, but nausea threatened, pain and drugs overwhelming his system.
Abby retraced her steps to his side. “You need to lie back down before you hurt yourself.”
“But Jif,” he gasped.
She must be devastated. Despite their complicated relationship, she loved her brother. And now he’d left her. Just like Miles had. He winced.
“I’ll ask Wes to bring you your phone, okay? You can call her.”
“I can’t.”
Not like this. Not when he’d already betrayed her so thoroughly by pushing her away. She’d never forgive him.
“Then I will. I promise.” She squeezed his arm. “You rest.”
As if he had a choice. Darkness slowly rolled over his mind, dragging him under, sounds fading away: the jingle of a collar, the click of toenails, and the solid thud of a door closing.