Chapter Ten #2
Delilah’s tail gave a weak wag, but the whining persisted. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and just held her. The warmth of her body against his helped him too, making his bunny settle the hell down.
The door to the surgical suite opened. Sonny’s head snapped up so fast something in his neck popped. Dr. Sullivan stood in the doorway, still wearing his surgical gown. His expression was calm, professional, giving nothing away, which only made Sonny panic even more.
His entire body frozen as Delilah pressed harder against him, her whining pitching higher.
She’s feeding off your anxiety. You need to chill.
“The surgery was a success.” Dr. Sullivan’s voice carried across the waiting room. “We were able to reset all three ribs. The bone alignment is good. No complications with the anesthesia. Hercules is in recovery now. He’ll be groggy for a few hours, but he should make a full recovery.”
The relief was profound. He sagged against Delilah, his arms tightening around her. The dog’s whining shifted to something that sounded almost like crying, her whole body shaking. Sonny pressed his face against her scarred fur, his own eyes stinging with tears.
“He’s okay,” Sonny whispered to Delilah. His voice was rough, unsteady. “Your buddy is okay. He’s going to be fine. You'll see him soon, and he’ll be all fixed up.”
Delilah’s tail wagged harder, her body still trembling but with excitement now instead of fear. She licked at Sonny’s face, her tongue warm and wet. The gesture made Sonny’s laugh.
Reese had moved to stand beside them, his large hand resting on Sonny’s shoulder. His mate’s presence wrapped around Sonny like a physical barrier between him and the fear that had been eating him alive for the last hour.
“Can we see him?” Sonny looked up at Dr. Sullivan, his hand still buried in Delilah’s fur. “Just for a minute? I know he’s in recovery, but I need to see him. We both do.”
Dr. Sullivan’s expression softened. “Give us another thirty minutes to make sure he’s stable. Then you can come back. Ryan will come get you when Hercules is ready for visitors.”
Sonny nodded, not trusting his voice. Thirty minutes. He could handle thirty more minutes of waiting now that he knew Hercules was okay. The surgery was over. The ribs were fixed. His dog was going to be fine.
He stayed on the floor with Delilah, his arms wrapped around her. She’d stopped whining, her body relaxing against his. Her tail kept wagging, a slow steady rhythm that matched Sonny’s gradually slowing pulse. They sat there together, dog and bunny, both waiting for their companion to wake up.
Reese settled back into his chair, his eyes never leaving Sonny.
The bond between them carried his mate’s satisfaction that the crisis had passed, that everyone Sonny cared about was safe.
Sonny sent back gratitude through the connection, thanks for Reese being here, for making this possible, for caring about two traumatized dogs because Sonny cared about them.
The thirty minutes crawled by. Sonny counted each one, his internal clock tracking the seconds.
His body had stopped demanding movement, the panic finally draining away.
Delilah dozed against him, exhausted from the anxiety.
Sonny’s hand kept moving through her fur, the repetitive motion soothing for both of them.
Ryan appeared in the doorway, still wearing his scrubs. “Hercules is awake. He’s asking for you.”
Sonny was on his feet before Ryan finished talking. Delilah scrambled up beside him, anxious to see her buddy. Ryan held the door open, making space for both of them to pass through.
The recovery room was smaller than the surgical suite, with padded surfaces and dim lighting.
Hercules lay on a low table, his sides wrapped in bandages.
His eyes opened when Sonny entered, tail giving a weak wag.
The breathing that had been labored and painful for weeks was even now, his ribs finally aligned properly.
Sonny moved to the table, his hands finding Hercules’s scarred head.
The dog’s nose pressed against his palm, warm and wet.
Delilah was right there beside him, her whining shifting to happy sounds as she sniffed at her companion.
Hercules’s tail wagged harder, his whole body trying to move despite the post-surgical weakness.
“Easy,” Ryan said softly. “He needs to stay still for a bit. The anesthesia is still wearing off.”
Sonny kept his hands gentle, stroking Hercules’s fur. The dog’s eyes stayed locked on Sonny’s face, trust and love evident in that gaze. This animal had been through hell, yet he was still capable of this much affection. Best dog ever. Besides Delilah, of course.
“You did so good,” he whispered. “You’re such a brave boy. The surgery is over, and you’re going to feel so much better once you heal. You'll be able to run and play without hurting. You and Delilah can actually enjoy being dogs instead of just surviving.”
Hercules’s tail kept wagging, the movement slow but steady. Delilah had settled on the floor beside the table, her head resting near her buddy’s. Both dogs were finally relaxed, the separation anxiety fading now that they were together again.
Reese stood in the doorway, his large frame filling the space. His eyes moved between Sonny and the dogs, something tender crossing his expression. His mate was watching him comfort traumatized animals while wearing a soft smile.
“We can take him home in a few hours,” Ryan said. He was checking the monitors attached to Hercules. “I want to make sure the anesthesia is completely out of his system first. But he should be able to go home tonight.”
Tonight. They’d all be home tonight. Sonny sagged with relief, his hand still moving through Hercules’s fur. The dog’s eyes had closed again and settled, his breathing deep and even. The dog had already drifted back toward sleep, his body demanding rest to heal from the trauma of surgery.
Sonny stayed beside the table for another hour, his hand resting on Hercules’s side.
He could feel the steady rise and fall of the dog’s breathing, the way his ribs moved properly now instead of in pain.
Delilah had fallen asleep on the floor, her body finally relaxed now that she lay next to Hercules.
The clock on the wall ticked toward evening. Ryan had checked on Hercules three more times, each visit confirming the recovery was progressing exactly as expected. No complications. No signs of distress. Just a dog healing under the care of people who actually gave a damn about him.
“We can load him up now.” Dr. Sullivan appeared in the doorway, his scrubs exchanged for casual clothes. “He’s stable enough to travel. Just keep him quiet for the next few days. No running, no jumping. Let those ribs heal properly before we let him get too active.”
Sonny nodded. The dog’s eyes opened when Sonny sat up, tracking his movements with drowsy awareness. “Come on, buddy. We’re going home. You get to sleep in your own bed tonight.”
Reese helped lift Hercules from the table, his strength making the task look effortless despite the dog’s weight. Hercules’s head rested against Reese’s shoulder, trusting completely. Delilah walked beside them, her tail wagging as they moved through the clinic toward the exit.
The evening air hit Sonny when they stepped outside, cool and carrying the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet. The parking lot was mostly empty, just a few cars scattered across the spaces. Streetlights were beginning to flicker on, along with the safety lights above them.
Reese settled Hercules in the back seat of the truck, arranging blankets around him so he’d stay comfortable during the drive. Delilah jumped up beside her buddy, her body pressing close. Both dogs settled together, Delilah’s head resting on Hercules’s shoulder.
Sonny climbed into the passenger seat, his body finally starting to register the exhaustion from hours of anxiety. His muscles ached from all the pacing, his bunny demanding rest. The truck’s interior smelled like leather and that clean cold scent that was pure Reese, familiar and comforting.
“Thank you.” Sonny’s voice came out quiet. “For all of this. For making sure Hercules got the surgery. For being here, even though you probably had a hundred other things you needed to do today.”
Reese laced their fingers together then kissed Sonny’s knuckles. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
The simple statement made warmth bloom in Sonny’s stomach, made his bunny content.
His mate was here because he wanted to be, because Sonny and the dogs mattered to him.
The knowledge still felt strange, too good to be completely trusted, but Sonny was learning to accept it more with every day that passed.
THE END