Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Noah
There's no film crew today, but I still ask Snowy, I mean Chloe, if she'd like to help me with the oldest pups we have in the hospital wing.
The more active puppies are hidden away in some stables across a small paddock. A place I’ve been deliberately kept away from. They say it’s not to ease my workload, but because they’re somewhere the cameras can’t follow me.
I’m busy enough here not to miss the extra work.
But I would like to see if they’re happy.
I know they are. They appear in the main hospital daily for weigh-ins and enough TV time to attract potential owners.
Still, I want to see their homes.
For now, I’m weighing Pumpkin’s family.
She needs a larger space than this kennel, but I’m too scared to mention it. She needs to be somewhere I can properly monitor the puppies’ movement. This is when delays start to show.
Physical disabilities that stop them from walking.
Neurological issues that stop them from exploring properly.
All the things that made them unsellable before. I have a feeling any issues now would just double their adoption lists.
It seems the nation loves an underdog.
There are no signs of problems in Pumpkin’s litter, but they’re starting to move more.
They’re two weeks old and still utterly dependent on their mom, but they need more space than a hospital kennel.
“Hang on a minute.”
I dart away to find Tree, pitching my fantastic idea. We need to let the puppies out, but they can’t go anywhere patients use; they’re too young to vaccinate.
The office would be perfect.
With permission granted, I carry the litter in a box while Chloe brings Pumpkin.
Martha, the office manager, is about to get all the incentive she needs to adopt someone.
We set up a dog bed under her watchful gaze, and the puppies begin to explore. They’re wobbly, their eyes only open a few days. The edge of the bed is enough for them today.
The moment the first puppy tumbles out of the box, the entire office transforms.
Tiny paws slide across Martha’s polished floor as little bodies wobble in every direction.
One immediately topples over its own feet and rolls onto its back like a confused potato.
Chloe laughs, scooping it up before it can crawl under Martha’s desk.
“They’re drunk,” she says.
“They’re two weeks old,” I correct. “Same thing.”
Pumpkin circles once, clearly unimpressed with the new location, before settling with a sigh like a tired mother accepting defeat.
Martha pretends to be furious, but she’s already crouching down, letting one puppy chew her shoelace.
I bat my eyes at her until she reluctantly agrees to the small family intruding on her life. I’ll have her falling in love with Pumpkin in no time.
Chloe crouches beside me, watching the puppies.
“You really can tell them apart?” she asks.
“Of course.”
I point. “This one’s Biscuit. That one’s Smudge. And the chunky one trying to eat Martha’s shoe is Tank.”
“You named them?”
“Only temporarily.”
Even if I remember every single one.
She watches them for a moment before whispering, “You really love them, don’t you?”
I shrug. “Someone has to.”
“Well, everyone here loves them. You’re not alone anymore.”
I smile, building bridges with someone who will probably become my closest ally during this student nurse training.
We kneel on the office floor like naughty kids while Martha’s leg becomes a leaning post for a tired spaniel who just wants a moment of peace and a head scratch.
I spot Rhys the second he steps through the door. His eyes immediately drop to the floor.
Eight puppies wobble toward his polished shoes like tiny heat-seeking missiles. One latches onto his shoelaces.
His expression freezes.
“Noah,” he says slowly.
“Yes?”
“Why are there puppies in the office?”
His mouth tightens as if he’s fighting a smile, but he doesn’t complain. He must understand they can’t stay cooped up.
Of course he does.
That’s why he’s adapting the barn for them.
“Rhys, what are the rules on the barn? I’m thinking temporary fences and…”
“We have the emergency plan approved. I’ve ordered the metal partitions. They’ll be installed tomorrow. You can move the dogs as soon as they’re done.”
He leaves without asking anything else.
“You know, I can’t tell if he likes me or hates my guts.”
“You can’t tell?” Martha says, stroking Pumpkin’s head. “People don’t create jobs for someone they hate. Or convert a barn for them.”
“I guess. He’s just… abrupt.”
“He’s like that with everyone. Focus on the good. The rest is just him. He needs someone who can give him the time he needs.”
Okay.
So his abruptness is just him, not me.
I’ll stop worrying that I’m taking up too much space with my dogs and their puppies.
“Noah!”
Tree bursts into the office with a huge grin.
“Honey is showing the first signs of labor. We should have puppies within the next twenty-four hours. More puppies, that is.”
“Oh, poor girl. I can’t wait until this is over and she never has to carry pups again.”
“We’ll keep a close eye on her and let you know the minute it becomes active labor.”
It’s not the last delivery I’ll assist with, but it’s the one I’m most worried about.
She’s full to bursting with twelve puppies.
The news is distracting, but my tasks are mundane; cleaning, tidying, learning where everything lives, and smiling at everyone so they don’t think I’m stepping on their toes.
The rest of the day passes without incident, which means I don’t see Rhys again.
He has a full afternoon of appointments, and when he needs help, he chooses his qualified staff.
I finish long before him, spending my remaining time sitting with Honey.
She’s panting, uncomfortable.
She shifts as I sit beside her, pressing her head harder against my knee. Her belly moves under my hand, a ripple passing beneath her skin.
Her breathing is heavier now. I count it automatically.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Twelve puppies inside that tired body.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper.
I’m not sure if I’m reassuring her or myself.
It’s bittersweet.
I’ve been looking after these dogs for so long. I’m sorry to see them go.
Happy they’ll have better lives.
Sad I won’t be there to see it.
But I won’t be empty when they’re gone.
I have more than a job. I have a purpose. I have people who respected me. Help me. Will guide me through my training.
And I have Rhys.
That might be the most dangerous part.
Someone who sees me as a pet, not a witness.
This is my life now.
Not a kennel block that smelled of bleach and fear. Not brothers shouting orders while dogs cried in cages.
A real practice.
Real people.
People who ask for my opinion.
People who trust me.
And Rhys.
A man who scares me in ways I can’t explain.
A man who watches me like I’m a puzzle he intends to solve.
Someone who tolerates my presence, and smiles while doing it.
If he thinks he owes me this life because he took my old one… I’m not going to complain.
Not about this life.