Chapter 37
37
CADENCE
I heave a deep, happy sigh as I lock up the rescue for the night, double-checking each door and window. It's a mindless ritual, one I've done thousands of times. It doesn't get old, knowing that each window I check and door I lock is mine. My place. My rescue. It's everything I've built.
I love being here, but tonight, I'm excited to get home to Maverick. To spend another amazing night in his bed. Nan hasn't said anything, but I'm sure she's noticed that my bed isn't being slept in, so I'm sure she's going to bust my ass at the worst possible time.
But I don't care. It's worth it.
As I approach the front door, my heart stops. There's a box. Duct taped shut. Fear grips me, ice-cold tendrils wrapping around my chest. Not again. Please, not again.
I shove the door open, my hands trembling as I tear at the tape. The sound of it ripping echoes in the empty parking lot. Five tiny bodies, barely moving. Puppies. So young, their eyes aren't even open yet.
"Shit," I mutter, carefully lifting the box. Rage bubbles up inside me, threatening to spill over. How could someone do this? Just dump these helpless babies like trash?
Tucking the rage into the corner of my mind, I rush to the back room hugging the box to my chest. With practiced movements honed from way too many similar situations, I set up the heating pad, adjusting its temperature just right. My hands tremble as I measure out the powdered formula, accidentally spilling some on the countertop. "Come on, focus," I mutter to myself, inhaling deeply to steady my nerves.
Gathering an array of supplies - towels, a small scale, and a notebook - I return to the box of puppies. Gently, I lift each tiny body, my heart constricting at their fragility. There are five in total: two black ones, a brindle, and two with patches of white and brown. Their eyes are still sealed shut, pink noses twitching as they make soft tiny cries.
I check them over meticulously, feeling for any signs of injury or illness. Their skin is loose, a sign of dehydration, but their gums are a healthy pink. As I feed each puppy with a small syringe, relief washes over me. They're weak, but they're fighters, eagerly lapping at the formula despite their ordeal. If I hadn't been here... I shake my head, pushing away the thought. They're safe now. That's what matters.
Carefully, I weigh each pup, jotting down their measurements in my notebook. The smallest one, a little black ball of fur, concerns me the most. The others are squeaking and wriggling, while he lays too still. Thankfully, he takes the milk eagerly.
Once they're fed and warm, the littlest one tucked inside my bra, I pull out my phone, pulling up Maverick's contact. My finger hovers over it for a moment. We had plans tonight. Things have been so good between us lately, and I was really looking forward to our date.
But these puppies need round-the-clock care. I can't leave them.
I hit call, steeling myself for disappointment.
"Hey, beautiful," Maverick's warm voice fills my ear.
"Hi," I say, my voice cracking a little. "I'm so sorry, but I can't make it tonight. Someone dumped five newborn puppies at the rescue. They need to be fed every two hours, and I-"
"Bring them home," Maverick interrupts.
I blink, sure I've misheard. "What?"
"Bring them home," he repeats. "We can take care of them together."
"Mav, it's not that simple. I need special equipment, formula, heating pads-"
"So bring it all. We've got plenty of space."
I'm stunned into silence. This man never ceases to amaze me.
"Are you sure?" I ask, hope blooming in my chest.
"Absolutely. I'll tell Nan and order us some dinner."
Tears prick at my eyes as I hang up. That seals it. That man is a diamond. No, not a diamond. Rarer. Whatever the rarest gem in the world is, that's what he is.
I quickly gather everything we'll need, tucking the puppies into a proper carrier with a hot water bottle.
The drive home is uneventful, thankfully. As I pull into the underground garage, I'm taken aback by the sight of five imposing figures blocking my path. Declan, Zach, Colton, John, and Maverick are all there, nearly vibrating. They rush my car as soon as I slow. I barely have time to put it in park before Declan's at my door.
"Hey Cady. Shitty night, huh?" he says with a sympathetic smile.
Before I can protest, the others are already unloading the supplies from the backseat. I watch, bemused, as they squabble over who gets to carry the puppy carrier, getting into some sort of weird ball-slapping fight. Colton emerges victorious, cradling the carrier to his chest and murmuring softly to its tiny occupants.
Maverick's arm wraps around my shoulders, gently steering me towards the elevator. "But my car-" I start to say.
"It's covered," Maverick assures me. Sure enough, Declan's already maneuvering it into its spot. He locks it with the fob, and jogs back to us.
As we all crowd into the elevator, I'm overwhelmed by a surge of love for all of them. The last time puppies were dumped at my front door, Nan and I took care of them by ourselves. There was no one else to help. This time is so different, the men peppering me with questions about the puppies, their concern evident in every word.
"How many are there?" Zach asks, peering into the carrier.
"Five," I reply, my voice catching. "Three boys and two girls."
Colton frowns, his protective instincts kicking in. "Have they been checked out by a vet yet?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. I found them just before I called you guys."
"They'll need formula," Zach chimes in, already tapping away on his phone. "And probably some kind of heating pad to keep them warm."
Declan pipes up, "What about those little stuffed animals with heartbeats? I've heard those can comfort orphaned puppies."
"I've got most of that already," I explain. "I have formula, and bottles, and heating pads. What I don't have enough of is help…or at least I didn't."
What strikes me most is what they don't ask why someone would dump puppies. They understand the darkness in the world all too well, and other than a few muttered threats under their breath that I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to hear, they focus on action, on what can be done right now. Their immediate willingness to help, to dive in without hesitation, brings tears to my eyes. I blink them back, not wanting to worry anyone.
Maverick pushes his - our- apartment door open, and I'm immediately overwhelmed by the scene before me. The spacious living room is a hive of activity, filled with familiar faces all bustling about with purpose. The noise hits me like a wave - excited chatter, barked instructions, and the rustle of bags being unpacked. Everybody is here. All the women, Nan, and even another elderly woman that I don't recognize, but must be Connie, her friend here in the building.
Colton strides in, the puppy carrier held protectively against his chest. He makes a beeline for the center of the room, gently setting the carrier down on the coffee table. "I have the puppies!" he announces like he's a proud dad. He looks at me, brow furrowed. "Where do we put them? Should we make them a bed?"
"The carrier will work for tonight, but we'll need to get them a bigger box that we can line with blankets and puppy pads," I tell him. "It'll help contain the mess."
Kade, who's hovering nearby, furrows his brow. "What are puppy pads?" he asks, genuinely puzzled.
It takes me a second to recalibrate. Of course not everyone knows this stuff. I spend all day every day immersed in it so it's easy to forget not everyone else is. "Well," I begin, "puppies this young can't be potty trained. They pee and poop whenever, wherever, and usually, the mom licks them clean. So we have to take the place of their mom."
The look of horror that crosses Kade's face is priceless. He rears back, eyes wide. "Holy fuck. We need to lick them?" His expression is a perfect mix of disgust and reluctant willingness like he's steeling himself for an unpleasant but necessary task.
I burst into snorting laughter, the tension of the evening finally breaking. "No, no," I manage between giggles. "We can use rags and paper towels to clean them up. We don't have to lick them."
The relief on Kade's face makes me laugh even harder, and thankfully he doesn't seem at all bothered by it. He grins, shrugging good-naturedly. "Hey, I was ready to take one for the fucking team if I had to."
"You're my hero," I tell him, making him roll his eyes at me, then wander away for a closer look at the puppies.
Wiping my eyes, I take in the full scope of the room. Becca and Maya are in the kitchen, unpacking what looks like enough takeout to feed an army. Zach and Declan are setting up a makeshift puppy station in the corner, complete with heating pads and soft blankets. John and Ransom are huddled over Ransom's phone. If I had to guess, they're researching puppies.
Janey appears at my elbow, pressing a warm mug of tea into my hands. "You look like you could use this," she says softly, giving my arm a squeeze.
I nod gratefully, taking a sip. The warmth spreads through me, and I feel some of the tension in my shoulders start to ease. "Thanks," I murmur. "I can't believe everyone's here."
Janey smiles. "Of course we are. That's what family does."
Her words hit me hard, and I have to blink back tears. This is what family does. These people, who I've known for such a short time, have become my family. They've shown up, no questions asked, ready to help in any way they can.
Maverick's arm slips around my waist, and I lean into him, suddenly exhausted. "You okay?" he asks quietly.
I nod, unable to find the words to express how I'm feeling. Overwhelmed, grateful, loved - it's all too much.
"Alright, folks!" Colton's voice cuts through the chatter. "Let's get these little ones settled and fed. Cady, you're the expert here. What do we do first?"
All eyes turn to me, and for a moment, I let myself appreciate each and every one of them, then snap into action. "First, we need to get them warm and comfortable. Then we'll start the feeding process." They all start to move to the carrier, and I raise my voice. "This is going to be a long haul. Trust me, we're going to need everyone's help over the next couple of weeks, and I promise that anyone that wants a turn will get one."
A few shoulders in the crowd relax, and most of the bodies back away. Evie, Mia and Colton all crowd closer as I open the carrier. I carefully scoop up the babies, placing them into Evie and Colton's hands. Maverick and Ransom elbow their way to the front, happily accepting a puppy each. All the adults sink to the floor, cradling the pup to their chests.
Nan moves around our little circle, distributing syringes to the eager adults. She hands out gentle pats on the shoulder, or brushes back a stray wisp of hair, and they all soak it in, every single one of them. "It's easy," she reassures them, demonstrating the proper technique. "You're doing such a good job," she adds, smiling as the puppies all latch on.
I settle onto the floor next to Mia, gently helping her cradle the tiniest puppy in her lap. Nan brings over a syringe, winking at me before moving away, leaving us to our own little bubble.
Mia looks up at me with wide, curious eyes. "Where's their mommy?" she asks, her voice small and filled with concern.
I take a deep breath, considering how to explain this to a child. "I don't know where their mommy is, sweetie," I say gently. "Sometimes the mommies are brought to the shelter too, but this time, the puppies were alone."
Her brow furrows as she processes this information. "Why did they brunged them to you?" she asks, stumbling slightly over the words.
My heart swells with a mix of pride and sadness. "Because they knew I would take good care of them," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
Mia thinks about this for a moment, her little face scrunched up in concentration. Then she nods, seeming to accept my answer. "My tummy mommy brunged me to the hospital," she says matter-of-factly. "And that's where Mommy found me. It's good."
I'm struck by the simple wisdom in her words, the acceptance of her own story. I smile at her, feeling a surge of affection for this brave little girl. "That's right, sweetie," I say softly. "And now you have a family that loves you very much, just like these puppies will."
"We keep them kay?" she says. It's a question, but it's really not. It's a statement of fact, and I'm trying to figure out how to explain to her that dogs are a big commitment when I catch all the nodding heads around me. Every single adult in the room close enough to hear her is all in.
"Um…puppies are a lot of responsibility. They're going to need to stay together, and be fed every two hours for a few weeks yet, then they get busy, and destructive, and loud."
They're all still nodding.
"You guys are starting to creep me out. This is way too easy. Just like that, you're keeping them?"
More nods.
"Well, alright then. I guess we're keeping the puppies." I don’t expect them to actually follow through. They’re really cute right now, but soon, they’ll be chewing on everything, peeing on the floor, and generally being destructive little shits.
Finally, they all get back to what they're doing. I stand and move into the dining room, picking up a plate to serve myself some food. There are about twenty containers covering the table, a mix of Chinese, Thai, and Indian. I help myself to some Pad Thai and Satay, and ease into a chair. God, it's good.
Becca drops into a chair next to me and props her chin on her hand as she stares at the spread. "You know, I've been a part of this family for over a year, and I still find this shit overwhelming. Why so much food? Why? Why not just pick one place?"
"It is a lot."
"Yeah," she says glumly.
"You're not hungry?"
She snorts and shakes her head. "I had two fucking plates. That's the problem. They order all the best stuff from all the best places and I want it all!"
"I get that. Pretty sure that Ginger Beef over there is going in my tummy."
She laughs and turns to face me lifting one foot onto the chair. "How are you doing? Are you a giant ball of rage, ready to hunt down whatever asshole dumped those puppies."
"I was," I admit, resting my fork on my plate. "But I'm mostly over it."
Her eyebrows fly up. "Seriously? Already? I'd still be looking for someone to punch. Honestly, I'm feeling a little ragey myself."
"I run a rescue Becca. It happens. More than I'd like. But the puppies are okay, they're safe and warm and have full tummies, so I'm going to call that a win and not obsess over it."
"That's a very healthy, balanced way to look at it. But I don't buy it. If the dude that dumped them was right here in front of you, would you really just send him on his way?"
"I'd kick him in the balls so hard, he'd feel it for a year."
Becca throws back her head, laughing. She's got the kind of laugh that makes everyone around her happy. It's big, and carefree, and completely in your face.
I like it.
"That's more like it. I couldn't wrap my head around a woman who punches as hard as you do being all peaceable."
"I'm mostly peaceable. Unless provoked."
"Fair. Most people find me really fucking provoking. I don't mind."
"You are provoking. Is it a choice, or does it come naturally to you?"
"It's one hundred percent natural. It's because I live in the land of 'don't give a fuck'. But I have a feeling you live there, too."
I consider Becca's words, turning them over in my mind. Do I really not care? That doesn't feel right. I care deeply about my family, about Nan, about the rescue and all the animals we help. When I tell Becca that, she just waves her hand dismissively.
"That's not what I mean. Of course you care about that stuff. I love my husband and this family. I would do anything to protect them. But I don't bother pretending to be anything other than who I am. And I think you're the same way."
I pause, mulling over her words. There's truth in what she's saying. I've never been one for putting on airs or trying to fit into someone else's mold of who I should be.
"I guess you're right," I admit. "I've always been pretty straightforward about who I am. Take it or leave it, you know?"
Becca grins, nodding enthusiastically. "Exactly! That's what I'm talking about. You don't give a fuck about what people think of you. You're just... you. Unapologetically."
"I suppose I am. I've never really thought about it that way before." And really, who else would I be?
"That's because you're too busy being yourself to analyze it," Becca laughs. "But trust me, it's obvious to anyone who knows you. It's one of the things I like most about you, actually. That and your spinning back kick. That fucker is a thing of beauty."