Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Rhys
Iwake with a start before remembering I had fallen asleep on the living room armchair.
Noah looks a million times more comfortable spread out on the sofa with the quilt pulled up around him.
Not that I can see much; the quilt is tucked up around his head, just his arm sticking out, fingers resting against the door of the incubator.
The most worrying part of this otherwise very domestic setting is that Honey is sleeping against the edge of the sofa on a corner of quilt dropped on the floor.
She's not with her puppies.
I jump up and hurry across to the bedding, housing a pile of tiny, wriggling puppies.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six
One tucked down the side.
And the eighth rolled down the back.
They're warm, thanks to the heat lamp, but hungry.
“Hey sweetie.” I stroke Honey’s head as she appears beside me.
“You only had a box before, one bed. Either you stayed with your puppies or you sleep on the cold floor.” Now she's sore, exhausted, and free to choose.
She has chosen Noah over her puppies.
Well, I have work to do.
Last night, Noah slipped into my secret life as if he was born to be there. Now I'm going to show him I can slip into his life just as seamlessly. I warm a fresh jug of puppy milk, sterilize every bottle we have, and make two mugs of tea.
Back in the living room, I set the tray of supplies down on the floor and start pouring milk into bottles.
Soon the hungry pups are lined up, each sucking frantically on the teats.
Their tiny little front feet kneed against the bedding like fury.
It's supposed to encourage their mother's milk, but all it's doing here is knocking the bottles away from their hungry mouths.
It's a full-time task just keeping the bottles in their mouths.
“Is one of those for me?” Noah calls sleepily.
For him? A bottle or a puppy?
Oh, he means the mug of tea.
“Yes, here.” I lean over with the mug in my outstretched hand. After he takes it, I hand him the milk jug too.
“She's made our decision for us, hasn't she?”
“Yes, she's part of the family now.”
“I mean about her puppies.”
“I know you did,” I smile. “But she made two decisions last night. Both I'm sure all the dogs would like to make.”
“We still have so many litters left to support.”
“I know. We can't hand-rear them all. But at least you can take comfort knowing it is their last.” It's all the comfort I can give him.
I went to the puppy farm only caring about easing the itch, and I walked away with a whole different view. I didn't just ease the itch that builds like a tense muscle until it's unbearable.
I have saved countless dogs. Twenty-four bitches, two dogs, more puppies than we had when this started.
I've also stopped a cruel dog fighting ring by taking out their top man.
But the most important thing I did was the riskiest move of my life. I found enough faith and trust in another person to let him live in both my worlds.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Noah frowns, dangerously close to becoming distracted from the bottle he's filling. “You're looking like you regret keeping me.”
“Then my face is clearly too tired, because that isn't what I was thinking about.”
“If that's the case, I'm going to need the mouth to help me out a little.”
“I was thinking about the night we met. I went there to ease an itch. Not to save dogs, not to save you. I only thought about myself.”
“That isn’t explaining the regret I'm seeing.”
“It isn't regret. Or if it is, it's regret for not finding you years ago.” I don't bother standing up, just shuffling across to him on my knees. “Last night was the first time I didn't kill for me. It was different. I didn't kill for myself. I killed for you.”
“I don't know what to say about that.” Noah shakes his head a little. Now I'm the one struggling to match the facial expression to his feelings. “That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“That's a good thing?”
“It's a romantic thing.” Noah bites his lip. “We probably shouldn't do it again, though.”
My heart drops as he practically forbids me from killing. I can't agree to that. I'll give him anything he wants. I'll let him keep a piece of himself from before with as many dogs as it takes. But I can't change this part of me.
“If we make what you do personal, we'll make it dangerous. I can't do that to you.”
My heart drops with relief. I actually break out in a sweat because of it.
“I promise I won't try to change you.” I lean forward and press a kiss on his forehead.
“Change me? You've turned my world upside down. Nothing is the same.”
“It is the same. The box is just very different. You've gone from being in charge of one business, answerable only to the owners, to running a business, answerable only to the owner.”
“A puppy farm and a veterinary practice are nothing alike, but that doesn't mean I'm not happier.”
“If that changes…”
He closes the gap and kisses me. Long, passionate, and with a tongue that doesn't quite know what to do.
I would do anything to keep this feeling. I would kill for him. I would let someone live for him. It's a dangerous feeling, and yet, I have never felt safer.