Ch. 14 – Layla
“ I ’m not gonna make it,” Alanna declared, her breath ragged. “Leave me behind. One of us needs to survive to tell the world what happened here today.”
Layla rolled her eyes as she jogged in place and waited for her sister. She glanced at her watch. “We only have one more mile left.”
“Another mile!” Alanna panted as she caught up to Layla. “My legs are going to fall off. Like, literally fall off. Blood everywhere. I’ll be dead before the ambulance even arrives.”
“You didn’t have to run with me,” Layla reminded her.
“You taunted me,” Alanna accused. “I was viciously taunted.”
Had Layla taunted her sister? Okay, maybe she’d mentioned that Alanna’s usual morning routine of a walk around the block and an online Pilates class wasn’t as intense as it could be. And maybe she’d even questioned whether Alanna could run four miles at all. But those were all innocent observations…that Layla absolutely knew would spark Alanna’s competitive streak like gasoline on a bonfire.
It was fun to have a running buddy.
“Okay, I’m going to keep going,” Layla told her sister. “If you want to walk, I’ll meet you back at the house.”
“Tell Sully to avenge my death,” her sister called behind her as Layla picked up her pace.
Layla’s legs felt strong even after a week of running longer routes than usual. Training for an ultra-marathon in just two months was ambitious, she knew, but at least she wasn’t starting from scratch. She just needed to build on the mileage she already had. That meant short runs most mornings during the week and a longer run on the weekend. This Saturday, she planned to run eight miles. She’d have to add miles every weekend up until the race.
I can do it, Layla told herself, trying to project a confidence she didn’t exactly have.
At least the running helped soothe her mind from the utter disarray of her personal life. Cal wasn’t exactly willing to go quietly into the night. While the flood of texts, voicemails, and GIFs had slowed to a trickle, he’d recently changed tactics. Over the past few days, a bouquet of roses, a gift basket of fancy soaps, and even a diamond tennis bracelet had shown up on her mother’s doorstep.
This morning, he’d sent a text. I’ll love you for always, it’d said with the pic they’d included on their wedding invites.
The wedding.
Layla’s stomach curdled as her legs pushed the pace on their own accord. She’d need to send out cancellation notices this weekend to their over 200 guests. What would Hannah Goldman think? Ms. Henderson, her old high school principal, would be so disappointed! Layla shivered, imagining how her fellow volunteers at the Yucca Hills Animal Rescue would look at her with pity. And when the town’s knitting club got a hold of the news? It’d run through town like wildfire. Everyone in Yucca Hills would soon know that her relationship with Cal had turned into a twisted, burning pile of wreckage.
Think of something else, Layla ordered herself desperately.
Her steps beat heavily on the road outside her mother’s subdivision. She refocused on her breath, forcing herself to breathe in for two beats then out for two beats. After a minute, her thoughts drifted to The Billionaire’s Dilemma.
She was about a third of the way through the romance book. Edwin and Joey had just spent a week practically living and sleeping at the office in order to stave off a takeover attempt from Edwin’s awful half-brother.
Now, all the late nights and lack of sleep had led to Joey getting sick. In the last chapter, Edwin had swept into her small bedroom with chicken soup made by his personal chef, a $500 bottle of wine, and a playlist of get-well songs. It was corny and thoughtful and would have been lovely if Edwin hadn’t immediately mocked her family’s old farmhouse.
Layla smiled. The farmhouse reminded her of her mother’s house. Busy, filled with knick-knacks, and well-loved. Edwin just didn’t understand. His mansion was huge, modern, and utterly devoid of any warmth. Kind of like Edwin himself.
Layla frowned. That wasn’t exactly true, though. He and Joey had grown close during all those late nights at the office. She’d learned about his abusive father, who had kept his mother as a “side piece” while showering riches and attention on his primary family. Edwin had grown up in poverty, his mother spiraling into depression and alcoholism, while his father refused to acknowledge his existence to the outside world.
It certainly explained Edwin’s unrelenting drive for success and his difficulty showing vulnerability. Edwin did seem to be slowly changing for the better, thanks to Joey, though. He’d sent her beat-up car to a garage for a complete overhaul after she’d broken down on the highway. And he’d invented an internship in his company’s graphic design department to give to her cute kid brother. But could he really be the man Joey needed?
Layla caught sight of her mother’s small house up ahead. Her legs picked up speed. Why did women fall for bad boys? She honestly didn’t know.
*
Upon her return to the house, Alanna’s claims that her leg muscles “had imploded” and she was now “crippled for life” were quickly undermined when she raced Layla up the stairs with surprising speed and slammed the bathroom door in her face.
Alanna took For-Ev-Ver in the bathroom. To be fair, she looked amazing when she finally made her grand exit among clouds of expensive perfume and hair product.
“I’m off to yell at people,” she said with a wave to Layla and their mother in the kitchen.
“Have fun, dear,” their mother said as she sipped a cup of tea. “Don’t make anyone cry.”
“No promises,” Alanna answered before strutting out the door.
Running nearly a half hour behind, Layla hustled into the bathroom. The hot water ran out three minutes into her shower, and she shivered as she hit three pumps of shampoo to coat her hair. It took 20 minutes to blow dry the long tangles enough so that she could brush them into order.
No time for 100 brush strokes today. Layla cut it down to 50 and watched the brush swim through her golden waves in the mirror. Managing so much hair was a lot of work, but Layla’s hair had always been her special trait. It was worth the effort.
Exactly 18 minutes later, Layla pulled hurriedly into the parking lot of the clinic, a thermos of coffee sitting in the drink holder and a toasted bagel stashed in her purse. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
Dang it!
Only 15 minutes before opening at 8 AM.
Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be on the clock until 10 AM due to Dr. Grumpy’s strict new schedule, but Layla had continued coming in early each day. It wasn’t just about her responsibility to give Sunny his physical therapy. She also prided herself on being at the reception desk to greet clients at opening.
Perhaps it was dumb to work for free during the clinic’s opening and closing hours, but Layla hated the thought of clients entering an empty, unwelcoming reception area. She also didn’t like the idea of Kate or Deja—both incredibly skilled vet techs—ringing out customers or taking calls when they should be working with patients.
Layla knew she was playing right in Dr. Dhawan’s miserly hands, but she owed it to the clinic, to Dr. Goldman’s memory, to do the best job she knew how. Plus, she loved being at the clinic. Sad as it was, All Paws and Claws was the closest thing she had to a home right now.
Layla swung out of her car. Dr. Dhawan’s black SUV was already parked two spaces away. Layla had to give the man credit where it was due. He was always the first person at the clinic and the last to leave. Though, she wondered if he came in early just to brainstorm new ways to cut costs.
Layla snickered at the uncharitable thought as she pulled open the front door, then paused just inside the clinic at the sound of a soft voice coming from the other end of the building. She followed the voice and froze in her silver-sequined wedges as she struggled to compute the scene in front of her.
“There you go. Looking good.” Across the room, Dr. Dhawan, Mr. Grumpy himself, smiled gently as he held up Sunny’s sling. The orange tabby made cautious progress across the treatment table, carefully moving his back legs as Dr. Dhawan held up most of his weight.
“One step at a time, Sunny,” Dr. Dhawan coached. The smile transformed his face, taking away years. He wore a heather gray sports coat fitted to his trim frame over black slacks. He looked good. More than good.
Handsome. The word teased into her brain.
Dr. Dhawan ducked his head, showcasing those stubborn cowlicks nestled in his dark locks. A spark lit low in Layla’s belly. A traitorous spark that she most definitely should not be feeling for her boss, much less for a man she didn’t even like.
Gorgeous , her mind supplied unhelpfully.
She made a small, strangled sound of protest.
He glanced up. Locked gazes with her. His smile dropped away.
They stared at each other. Layla recovered first. “You’re doing Sunny’s rehab?” she asked as if the answer weren’t obvious.
Dr. Dhawan shrugged. “You weren’t here, so I figured…” He lowered the sling and scratched Sunny behind his ear. The orange tabby sunk to his belly and began to purr.
“He’s regained so much movement in his back legs. It’s really incredible.” Dr. Dhawan shook his head in awe. “Can’t put much weight on them, though. I’m still not sure if he’ll ever be able to walk on his own again.”
“He will,” Layla insisted. She moved to the table, and Sunny pulled himself to her using his front legs.
“Well, for you he just might,” Dr. Dhawan answered softly.
Was that a joke? A compliment? Was he teasing her? Layla couldn’t tell. To hide her discomfort, she picked up the sling and returned it to the PT cabinet.
“I’m sure Ms. Fiddlesticks will be very happy with Sunny’s progress,” Dr. Dhawan spoke behind her.
“Yes, I’m sure she will,” Layla managed, a flush rising in her chest.
“I can’t wait to meet Ms. Fiddlesticks whenever she gets back from the Amazon,” Dr. Dhawan continued, his voice light. “She seems like such an interesting woman.”
“Oh, she is,” Layla squeaked. She closed the cabinet doors but didn’t turn around. “Ms. Fiddlesticks reads horoscopes professionally. And teaches aerial silks classes in her free time. And, um, she’s also a very talented… juggler. You know, bowling pins, torches, swords, she can do it all.”
“Wow. So impressive. Almost unbelievable,” Dr. Dhawan commented. “It’s strange, though. I couldn’t find a patient file for Ms. Fiddlesticks. I’ll have to see if Deja or Kate have her contact info.”
“She’s not real!” Layla cried, wheeling around from the cabinet. The guilt was too much. She couldn’t handle the subterfuge, all the corrosive lies. “I made her up.”
“Gasp,” Dr. Dhawan stated, deadpan.
Layla noticed the amused quirk of his lips. “You knew?” she gasped. Then, she groaned. “You knew.”
“I had a sneaking suspicion.”
Layla returned to the table and slumped onto her elbows. “He was a stray.” She reached out and stroked Sunny’s orange fur. The cat slow-blinked at her as a purr rumbled through his body.
Dr. Dhawan let out a short laugh. “Of course, Goldman would perform a $10,000, incredibly risky surgery on a stray cat. Makes total sense.”
“There’s no room at the shelter for a cat with his level of care needs,” Layla continued. “I know a few fosters, but they’re all caring for litters. No one has room for him.” Sunny brushed his cheek against her palm. “But he’s such a great cat. He deserves a chance,” she insisted.
“He can’t stay here,” Dr. Dhawan said sternly.
Layla squeezed her eyes shut. Of course, Dr. Dhawan wouldn’t offer charity even to a wonderful stray in need. Her mind whirled into action. She would need to bring Sunny to her mother’s house. Set up some kind of enclosure for him in the small, crowded house…
“Not forever,” Dr. Dhawan continued. “We’ll need these kennels eventually.”
Layla’s eyes popped open. “You mean… he can stay?”
“For now,” he cautioned. “Just until you find a foster.”
Layla grinned and clasped her hands over her heart. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll keep paying his kennel fee, of course.”
“Don’t bother.” Dr. Dhawan’s dark eyes were inscrutable. “I can’t seem to convince you to work your assigned shift. Consider it a trade for your extra hours.”
Before she knew what was happening, Layla stepped forward and threw her arms around Dr. Dhawan. She felt the strength of his body, the heat of him. The scent of sage wrapped comfortingly around her.
Dr. Dhawan stiffened.
Layla’s eyes popped open. Her brain caught up to her heart.
She was hugging Dr. Dhawan.
Hugging. Dr. Dhawan!!!
And it felt good.
Layla stepped back abruptly. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I mean, um, thank you. For Sunny.”
“Sure.” Dr. Dhawan turned away, his jaw tight. Layla quickly moved to Sunny’s kennel to create space between them. As she pulled out the soiled pee pads, a thought struck her.
“Maybe you could foster him,” Layla said.
“Me?” Dr. Dhawan snorted. “Not likely.”
Layla dropped the pads into the trash can. “Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical for a veterinarian to not have any pets?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I practically live here at the clinic. I don’t have time to give a pet the care it needs. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“What about April?” The question jumped unbidden from Layla’s mouth. She’d been burningly curious about the mysterious woman ever since Dr. Dhawan had put her on his calendar for every Saturday afternoon.
“April?” Dr. Dhawan seemed utterly confused.
“Does April like pets?” Layla pushed as she gathered fresh pads from the supply closet.
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he pulled the water dish from Sunny’s kennel and walked it over to the sink. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked.”
Why was she not surprised? Of course, the man didn’t even know if his girlfriend liked pets.
“Since you’re diving into my personal life, mind if I ask about yours?” Dr. Dhawan asked as he replaced the filled water dish in the kennel.
Layla almost choked. “What about me?”
He glanced at her left hand just as he did every morning.
Panic rose in Layla’s stomach.
“I heard you telling Mrs. Moffat yesterday that you were training for an ultra-marathon.” Dr. Dhawan washed his hands in the sink and pulled a piece of toast from the pocket of his sports coat. “Seems like a lot of running. What made you decide to sign up?”
Relief whooshed through Layla. She reached into her purse and pulled out the sandwich bag containing her bagel. She held it up in a salute, and he lifted his toast in response.
“I don’t know.” She extracted her bagel from its plastic bag, then frowned. “That’s not really true. I’ve been playing it safe my entire life, and, well…” she shrugged. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”
She looked up, a little afraid she’d see that sarcastic glint in his eyes. But Dr. Dhawan leaned against the exam table, his gaze intent on her.
“It’s an ambitious goal. Good luck with your training.” He took a bite of toast.
Was Dr. Grumpy complimenting her? The spark rekindled in the pit of her belly. Actually, it’d never really gone away. Now, though, it grew hotter.
“Thanks.” Layla looked away. “I won’t let training interfere with my work here, of course.”
“Wasn’t worried.” He smiled, then seemed to catch himself and took another bite of his toast.
“Good pocket toast?” she asked.
“The best.”
They shared a smile.
A loud, abrupt rap sounded on the front door. Layla glanced at her phone and squeaked. “We were supposed to open two minutes ago! I need to unlock the door.”
“Right.” Dr. Dhawan frowned. “I’ll get Sunny back in the kennel. Where the hell is Deja?”
Layla didn’t answer, instead scurrying to the reception area. She dropped her bag behind the desk, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.
A red-headed giant in a battered ball cap towered over her.
“I’m so sorry, Hue,” she called. “Come in, come in!”
“Morning,” the large man grunted as he swept through the door wearing his normal uniform of paint-splattered t-shirt, loose jeans, and work boots.
“And how is Janet doing?” Layla asked, taking her place behind the reception desk.
An elderly basset hound at Hue’s feet gave a soft Woof in response. She snuffled forward, bumping the base of the reception desk with her graying muzzle.
“Well, let’s see.” Hue scratched at his scruffy jaw. “She’s half blind, half deaf, and her farts could take down a charging bull. So, the usual.”
“Hue!” Layla laughed as she waved off his crude joke.
The large man leaned over the reception desk, his face turning serious. “So, what’s the low-down on this new vet? He the real deal? Cause I’m not letting some hack take care of my Janet.”
Layla gave him a reassuring smile. “Dr. Dhawan is the real deal. Trust me, I wouldn’t let him get within 10 feet of Janet if he weren’t.”
“Mr. Cairn?” Dr. Dhawan opened the door to Exam Room 1. “I can see Janet now.”
Hue’s ginger eyebrows rose on his forehead. “He’s young,” he reported to Layla. “I don’t like that.”
“It can’t be helped,” Dr. Dhawan answered across the room.
Hue turned to him. “You good? At being a vet, I mean?”
“Very good,” Dr. Dhawan answered without hesitation.
The two men stared each other down.
“Fine,” Hue said at last. “I’ll give you a shot. But I’m watching you, Doc. Janet is like a vintage Cadillac. She’s old, and she needs a lot of fine tuning, but under the hood, she’s sound.”
Woof, Janet agreed.
The front door of the clinic swung open.
“Sooooorrry!” Deja rushed inside and practically hurled her purse at Layla, who caught the bag just before it plowed into her face.
“Janet!” Deja cried happily, dropping into a crouch to give the dog scritches behind her long, floppy ears. “Hello, love.”
She turned, saw Dr. Dhawan glowering at her, and gulped. She jumped to her feet, still panting. “This way. Exam Room 1.”
Twenty minutes later, Hue and Dr. Dhawan exited the exam room. The two seemed to have developed some sort of gruff, manly understanding.
Deja was in Exam Room 2, prepping Mr. Bonkers, an Amazon parrot.
Dr. Dhawan leaned an elbow on the reception desk and met Layla’s gaze. “We’re going to change up Janet’s arthritis medication to see if we can lower her flatulence.”
“That’s a fancy word for farts,” Hue informed her.
Layla rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Hue.”
Dr. Dhawan continued. “We’ll see how the blood panel comes back. If her T4 levels are low, I’ll recommend increasing the dosage of her thyroid medication.”
“Whatever she needs, doc,” Hue said. He gave Dr. Dhawan a long, probing look. “But Janet’s good, right?”
Dr. Dhawan set his mouth “She’s old, Mr. Cairn. You can replace the parts of a vintage Cadillac. That doesn’t work for a dog. At least not yet.” Dr. Dhawan looked down at his tablet. “I’ll know more when her panels come back. What I can tell you now is that she’s topped out on most of her medications and her numbers are barely outside problematic.”
Layla held her breath. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Hue lived for the basset hound.
Hue nodded. “I appreciate the truth, Doc.” He bent down and stroked Janet’s head with tender care. “But she’s good for now, right?”
After a long pause, Dr. Dhawan nodded. “She’s managing. For now.”
Hue smiled and Layla shared in the relief that radiated off him in almost physical waves.
When Dr. Dhawan headed to Exam Room 2, Hue jacked a thumb after the retreating doctor. “I like him.”
A while after Hue and Janet had left the clinic, Dr. Dhawan exited Exam Room 2 and approached the reception desk on his slightly stilted gait. “Deja’s finishing up with Mr. Bonkers,” he told Layla. “He’s got a growth on his left wing. Most likely benign, but I’m going to take it off just to be sure. Can you schedule a—”
A mud-splattered truck screeched to a halt in front of the clinic, right in the middle of Chaparral Drive. Cars honked and then eased around the stopped vehicle as the doors of the truck flew open. A lanky young man and a teenage girl popped out and scurried to the back of the truck. An older woman eased herself from the driver’s seat and rushed into the clinic.
“Mrs. Fowler,” Layla said, recognizing her immediately. “What’s wrong?”
The woman’s eyes were wide and frantic. Outside, the young man and woman eased a massive pig from the back of the truck.
“It’s Hilda,” Mrs. Fowler wheezed. “I think she’s dying!”