Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Rhys
Ihave my surgery back. All the kennel dogs are out of my hospital block, office and home. They're still on site. Most in Noah’s barn, and the overflow still in my large animal hospital. But here, in the main practice, I can finally breathe.
Having Noah on board means I have an extra staff member free to work in the kennels, and they all say it's the best part of their rota, but giving Tree more consulting freedom leaves us a little short.
“The increased media coverage means consultations are booking up, and sending simple appointments to Tree is only easing some of the burden.” Danielle explains.
The meeting came about after complaints from the team, so now I'm sitting in the office with Danielle, my associate vet representing the voice of all my vets, Tree as head nurse, Martha, the office manager, and my lead receptionist, Carol.
“The phone is ringing off the hook,” Carol agrees.
“Noah has made surgery run smoother. We're organized enough for some extra demand, but we are turning people away because we just can't fit them in.”
“It will all quieten down after the pups are re-homed,” I promise. The same excuse I've been telling myself while watching my practice bursting at the seams. It's the same excuse I'll keep using until my plans unjumble themselves in my mind.
“Rhys, this isn't because of a few small pups yipping in the after-show,” Tree announces softly.
“This is the result of a charismatic young man effortlessly winning over the nation.
Rhys, we're running daily episodes after the news about the puppies. But do you know what they were filming last night?”
I shake my head. I try to stay out of the daily updates, or pup-dates as the producer calls them.
“Noah was sorting a drawer of different size syringes.”
“They filmed him doing that?”
“Yes. Pup-dates also includes tips on how to survive as a student nurse.”
I can imagine the scene. Noah innocently lining up syringes, while rambling about ‘one time he did something’.
Noah.
He runs my practice better than I can.
He talks to my fans better than I can.
I should want to kill him.
Instead, I want to stand behind him and take credit for everything he achieves.
But maybe, watching that has made me want to take a little of my own credit.
“I have a plan I'm thinking of, but it's not polished.” I've never bothered my staff with half-baked ideas before, always waiting until I have all the answers before making them public. But opening up to Noah about my dreams for the barn has made it feel a little easier.
“Plans?” Martha frowns. “You have a solution?”
“Not yet. As I said, it's just a rough idea.”
Everyone in the room leans a little closer.
“Porta-cabins at the bottom of the car park. A day surgery and a dental clinic. There's room for one more if anyone has any ideas.”
“A porta-cabin?” Danielle frowns suspiciously.
“Small waiting room, two consultation rooms leading to a prep area, twelve kennels for cats and dogs, maybe more. I haven’t completed the measurements yet.” And I always measure things twice before I commit. “Scrub room and surgery behind the prep room.”
“Sounds like the practice when we first started,” Danielle laughs.
“Yes. But this would just be for neutering. One vet, one nurse. Morning admissions by nine. Work through surgeries during the day and evening discharges.”
Everyone just looks at me like I've grown an extra head.
This is why I don't share until I've got all the information.
“We are getting more neutering enquiries since the first spay was recorded.” Carol nods.
“We could run an automatic booking system. Owners book their own animals in; the system allocates time according to gender and size. So no phone calls booking minor surgery.”
“Our surgery capacity is being taken up by routine ops, making any emergencies become something we have to fit in around everything else.” Tree confirms.
I dare to smile.
They agree with me.
Chatter breaks out between them. The benefits of taking routine neutering out of the building. The idea of running a separate dental clinic, where there was no worries about contamination between ‘dirty’ dentals and ‘clean’ surgeries.
“I know there is the demand, but we can't staff it all.” Danielle sighs, clarifying that all of my staff are pushed to their limits.
“I…” No. This isn't just mine anymore. “We would take on two new vets and three new nurses if we go ahead with the two-cabin idea.”
“If there is room for three and we have the finances for it, we should commit to all three,” Tree grins wickedly.
“It would be easier than deciding later that we need it. And we could definitely find a use for another space for owner group classes. Guest speakers. Puppy classes. Behavioral support groups.”
“Three then.” I confirm.
I've roughly crunched the numbers. There is a healthy profit margin for each unit after the cost of staffing it.
“This is super exciting,” Tree beams.
Danielle nods enthusiastically.
“It's a very positive direction for the practice,” Martha agrees. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”
They are thanking me for sharing my idea that may not even happen. For opening up about something that will change everything about their lives.
The meeting ends sooner than I thought. It seems my words have eliminated all their concerns.
They file out in pairs, still talking, already planning.
Tree is already listing ideas under her breath. Danielle is calculating schedules. Martha pauses at the door, giving me a look I don’t recognize. Approval. Trust.
Then she leaves too. The room falls quiet.
I remain where I am, hands resting flat on the desk, staring at nothing in particular.
For years, I built this place on control.
Every decision mine.
Every outcome mine.
Every mistake contained.
I didn’t ask for opinions. Didn’t need them. Didn’t want them.
Because the moment you rely on other people, you give them the chance to fail you.
Or worse…to leave.
My jaw tightens slightly. But today, I let them in. And instead of weakening the structure…it held.
Stronger.
I exhale slowly; the tension easing from my shoulders in a way I don’t entirely trust.
This is what Noah does without thinking.
He delegates. Builds trust in people, despite so many people abusing his trust in his past. He still built something bigger than himself.
And somehow…he hasn’t been broken by it.
A flicker of something sharp moves through my chest. Not irritation. Not quite admiration. Something more dangerous.
Attachment.
My fingers tap once against the desk before I push away from it. Outside, I can already hear the practice moving again.
Exactly how he runs it.
Without breaking. Without forcing it.
The thought settles heavier than it should.
And for a moment, just a moment, I consider what happens if someone tries to take that away from me. From him.
My gaze shifts toward the window. Towards the far end of the car park. Toward the trees. The place where I saw him. The place where something is still wrong.
The calm in my chest stills.
Sharpens.
Because growth is all well and good until something threatens it.
Then… we'll see what kind of man I really am.