Ch. 53 - Layla
O utside, the sun had long ago slipped below the horizon, leaving a growing darkness in its wake. At the reception desk of the All Paws and Claws vet clinic, Layla flipped to the last page of Exit Wounds and sighed.
It had taken a near-death adventure and a bullet through the leg, but Naomie and Vince had finally opened their hearts to each other. As Layla’s eyes traveled down the last paragraph, her throat tightened.
“Will you marry me? Again?” Vince whispered.
“Yes. And this time we’ll get it right,” Naomie declared.
Tears welled in Layla’s eyes. Everly may read romance novels for the sex, but for Layla, it was all about the happily ever after. These tender moments where the characters broke through their walls and let in their soulmate warmed her heart in all the right places.
Honestly, the only drawback of the story, as far as she was concerned, was that it didn’t include a wedding epilogue. Sure, weddings at the end of a romance book were more than a little cliche, but Layla adored every one of them.
Maybe because it felt like she’d been waiting her entire life to be a bride. Out of habit, she unlocked her phone and tapped open her calendar app. Volunteer shifts and wedding tasks filled each day. She swished through the months with her thumb.
And there it was. September 8th. The day contained a single entry.
WEDDING!!!
Three exclamation points weren’t enough. Layla tapped on the event to edit the entry and added two more.
WEDDING!!!!!
She grinned. She didn’t need to face off against a devious mayor or flee a hail of gunfire from a corrupt sheriff to discover her soulmate. She’d known Cal was her one and only from the moment she’d set eyes on him freshman year of high school. And now, over 10 years later, they were going to bind their souls forever.
Layla dragged her huge purse from beneath the reception desk and dropped in her copy of Exit Wounds. In a few short months, she would finally get her perfect wedding. Well, mostly perfect. Yes, Cal had made a few changes. Actually, more than a few, but Layla pushed those thoughts away. All that really mattered was celebrating her love with the man of her dreams. Her prince.
Her phone dinged. Layla glanced at the screen and frowned.
Jax: I need 2 talk 2 you after the meeting 2nite.
Jax: In private
As if on cue, a calendar reminder popped up on screen reminding Layla of the Crazy Cat Lady Club meeting in 20 minutes. Alanna should be pulling into the parking lot any minute to pick her up.
Layla puzzled over Jax’s messages. What could they mean? With a head’s up from Everly, she’d watched Rico’s wonderful and heart-melting news segment two days ago. Snuggled on the couch at her mother’s house, Layla hadn’t been ashamed of the tears pouring down her cheeks. Even Alanna had admitted that maybe Rico wasn’t as much of a narcissistic prick— her words—as she’d thought .
Layla couldn’t wait to hear how Jax had reacted to the story. The CCLC text group had been badgering her nonstop since the segment aired, but Jax had kept mum, promising to provide an update at the meeting tonight.
But why would she need to speak to Layla alone?
Layla shrugged. No point in worrying about it now. She’d find out soon enough. And whatever it was, she’d give Jax her full support and love.
Humming, Layla stood and stretched. In the quiet, dim building, Layla enjoyed a rare sense of peace. During operating hours, the waiting room was a cacophony of meows, barks, chirps, and more. The quiet felt like a velvet blanket.
Layla slipped from behind the desk. Dr. Goldman was working late, as usual. Her boss often arrived at the clinic near dawn and rarely left before 8:00 p.m. Even without appointments, Dr. Goldman was often kept busy checking and tending sick animals kept overnight for observation.
Today had been especially chaotic. A woman had rushed into the clinic just after noon with a half-dead orange tabby in her arms. She’d hit the poor stray on a bumpy dirt road on the outskirts of town. Any other vet would have seen the cat’s broken spine and lack of ID chip and euthanized the animal.
Not Dr. Goldman. He’d moved all his appointments and immediately prepped the cat for surgery. Layla smiled to herself. That was Dr. Goldman. Always full of hope. He’d seen something in the cat’s pleading green eyes that made him believe the animal wanted to live.
Over a multi-hour surgery, he’d knitted the cat’s spine back together and partially amputated the animal’s shattered tail. It was anyone’s guess as to whether the creature would make it through the night and whether he would ever walk again if he did .
“That’s up to Sunny,” Dr. Goldman had said, bequeathing the cat a name as he slumped into a chair after the exhausting surgery.
Now something prickled at the back of Layla’s mind. She realized what it was. The vet clinic was too quiet. Usually, after closing, the small building became a pseudo symphony hall for Dr. Goldman’s cheerful whistling. When he wasn’t whistling, the big-hearted vet would engage in detailed conversations with his overnight patients, asking them about their day and assuring them of their good progress.
But silence hung over the building.
“Dr. Goldman?” Layla called, ducking into the first exam room. “I’m going to be heading out in a minute.”
The poor man. He’d been looking so run-down this week. Layla had encouraged him to do the unthinkable and take the day off. He’d refused, of course. Dr. Goldman hadn’t taken a single day off, not in the 10 years she’d worked for him.
Both exam rooms were dark. He must be in the back. Probably checking on Sunny. She wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed extra late just to keep the young cat company.
“Dr. Goldman, I’m heading out,” she repeated as she opened the door into the back room. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”
She expected to hear her boss’s raspy, friendly voice provide his usual rejoinder: “Godspeed, my dear.”
Nothing.
Worry needled into her heart. Had Sunny taken a turn for the worse? Unconsciously, she grabbed her braid and pulled it over her shoulder. Touching the thick rope of hair always helped calm her.
Layla stepped into the back area of the clinic. She walked past Dr. Goldman’s office, the small break room, and the surgery suite. No Dr. Goldman. Finally, she approached the overnight boarding area where crates of all sizes sat on three side-by-side industrial shelves .
She spotted Sunny first. The orange cat peered at her with sad, uncertain eyes from his pen.
Then she looked down.
Dr. Goldman lay on the floor, his arms flung out, face gray, eyes half-lidded and glassy.
Layla knew. Her boss—the man who had taught her to see the best in others, who had lived every day with unbounded joy, who had been like a father to her—was dead.
Layla screamed.