Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Noah
Plans are afoot. Everyone is buzzing with excitement about more surgeries. I can't figure out enough information from the gossip, only that Rhys mentioned it before it was set in stone, and that was somehow a miracle in itself.
“Rhys.” I corner him in the supply room. “I'm the new guy; you don't owe me an explanation for everything, but I'm hearing so much.”
“It's all your fault,” Rhys replies. “I used to film a week straight, and then we'd have six weeks of peace. Now they are here daily. We have a ten-minute piece after the six o'clock news every day, plus our weekly full episode. We are booked for weeks, turning people away.”
“I'm sorry.”
I'm turning everything upside down for these people, and they have been nothing but wonderful towards me.
“This is the best thing that could happen to us. We can expand and take on more staff. Build and grow.”
I smile, not because he's reassured me, but because the general vibe in the practice is electric.
Not stressed.
Not chaotic.
Alive.
People are moving faster, talking louder, smiling more. Even the phone ringing nonstop doesn’t feel like pressure anymore. It feels like momentum.
Like something is building.
And somehow…
I’m in the middle of it.
“That’s… good, right?” I say, even though I’m not sure if I’m asking him or myself.
Rhys watches me for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head before I say it out loud.
“It’s very good,” he says finally. “It means we stop surviving and start choosing.”
Choosing.
That word sits oddly in my chest.
I’ve never really had that.
At the farm, everything was a reaction. Fix this. Feed that. Stop that one from dying.
No time to choose.
Here…
I glance through the open door. Louise is laughing with Chloe while prepping feeds. Tree is talking a client through aftercare as if she’s got all the time in the world. Danielle walks past with a coffee in one hand and a patient file in the other, completely unbothered by the noise.
No one looks like they’re drowning.
No one looks like me… back then.
“This is because of the show?” I ask.
“Partly,” Rhys says. “People like seeing what we do.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
I hesitate, then force it out. “They like… seeing me.”
It sounds stupid the second I say it. But it’s true.
They’re filming me sorting drawers. Feeding pups. Talking.
Just… being here.
Rhys doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t dismiss it.
“Yes,” he says simply.
My stomach flips, and not in a good way. Not bad either. Just… too much.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” I admit quietly.
“You don’t do anything,” Rhys replies. “You keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
“That feels like a lot of pressure for someone who used to shovel shit for a living.”
“You still do,” he says dryly. “Just with better equipment.”
I huff a laugh, but it doesn’t settle the feeling in my chest.
Because this… this matters.
If I mess up now, it’s not just me.
It’s the practice. The staff. The clients. The dogs.
“I could ruin this,” I say before I can stop myself.
Rhys steps closer. Not touching. Just… there.
“You could,” he agrees calmly.
My head snaps up. That’s not what I expected.
“But you won’t,” he continues. “Because you care too much about everything in this building to let it fall apart.”
I swallow hard. That feels a little too close to the truth.
“And if I do?” I push.
“Then I'll fix it,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Not we. Not the team. Him.
The weight of that lands differently.
Not pressure. Not expectation. Safety.
I exhale slowly, some of the tension easing out of my shoulders.
“Okay,” I nod.
Rhys watches me for a second longer, as if he’s making sure I’m steady. “We’ll need to train someone to take over some of your current responsibilities.”
The words hit instantly. Sharp and unexpected.
“You’re replacing me already?” I joke, but it comes out thinner than I mean it to.
His expression doesn’t change.
“I’m expanding you,” he corrects.
Oh.
That’s…
Worse.
Better.
Terrifying.
All at once.