Chapter 24
LEVI
Some memories linger longer than others. No matter how many times I replay the attack from last week, the outcome never changes, despite how badly I want it to.
I can't move. I can't scream. It's like a nightmare where my feet are glued to the ground.
Blake tackles a man twice her size. She hits the concrete. I freeze.
Every damn time.
The sound of her body striking the floor echoes in my head louder than the barking dogs and the clinic, louder than my own heartbeat.
I should have protected her.
Instead, she protected me.
I'm rechecking the schedule for today at the clinic's front desk when the door swings open and a gust of wind chills the entire room.
I glance up, expecting a client. Instead, I find the source of my peace, but she's also the source of several recent headaches.
Blake breezes in, dressed in her usual sweater, leggings, and boots, with Bear trotting at her side.
That dog has somehow become a permanent fixture in my clinic along with his owner.
And I'm not upset about it.
Smirking at her, I ask, “Are you here to babysit me too?”
My question pulls Blake up short. “Babysit?” she repeats like she’s offended. “Can’t a girl—”
I finish her question for her, lifting a brow. “Check in on her boyfriend?”
She squints, dissecting my words, then concludes, “You’ve been talking with Santiago.”
“He’s my best friend,” I reply by way of explanation.
Blake nods. “Obviously.”
“And a little more,” I add.
Blake gawks, her eyes blinking with incredulity and her lips forming a mute O. “I—I didn’t—Did I—If I have caused any—” she stammers.
I hold up my hand, cutting her off. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She analyzes my words again, directing herself to the correct conclusion. “It’s an open relationship.”
“Yes.”
The line of Blake's brow jumps. “Oh. Do people…”
“Know about us?” I finish for her again then shrug. “Probably. We don’t flaunt it, and it’s not like Santiago gives a spiel to his hookups.”
“Walk?” She questions.
I dipped my head in confirmation. “Of course.”
“Is he…” she trails off, like she's searching for the right words, something she seems to be struggling with today.
“Supportive?” I failed to keep the smile from my face. Her inquiry is predictable yet amusing.
Blake narrows her eyes. “Quit doing that.”
“Then use your words, Butterfly,” I quip.
Blake crosses the floor, placing herself on the opposite side of the desk. She plants her hands on the surface, leaning towards me as she quirks a brow. “Is he?”
“Yes,” I answer with a small smile. “Very. No need to defend my honor or anything.”
“Good,” she says, like if my answer were different, then Walker would be in for a world of hurt. Blake pushes off the desk, standing straight. “Well, I’m here.”
“With your shadow.” I tilt my head to Bear.
Blake raises her shoulders as she holds her hands out palms-up in an innocent gesture. “I can’t leave Bear at Moose Gap Lodge,” she defends.
Unable to suppress a chuckle, I shake my head. “I could use some help walking the animals in the back and feeding them.”
Blake’s lips curve into a comical frown. “Where’s Abbott?”
“On a farm call,” I inform her.
“Without you?” Blake asks as her face scrunches up.
“It’s a simple checkup.” I clarify.
Blake lets out a measured hum, accepting my explanation. “Well then, let’s get to it.”
Heading for the back, Blake strolls right past me, knowing I'll follow right behind her, which I do.
When we get to the kennels, I give her a brief tour, instructing her on how to complete each task. She jumps right in, zero hesitation, and once again, I follow suit.
Caring for animals has always been easy for me—it comes naturally to me. Animals are honest. They don't pretend to be something they're not. They don't hide when they're hurt. They don't lie about being afraid. Most people could learn a thing or two from them.
I'm lost in the work when a shout comes from the other side of the room. “Levi!”
Sprinting to Blake, I find her staring through a gate with haunted eyes. She doesn't look my direction as I approach, so I keep my movements slow, placing my hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Lifting a shaky hand, she points inside the kennel. “The dog. She’s bleeding.”
I allow her hand to guide my gaze, and I find the German Shepherd I found on the side of the road the other day. She was cold and starving, something I come across often this time of year.
After the holidays, I come across more pets left to fend for themselves. Adults buy a pet for themselves or their children, then quickly realize they weren’t prepared for the responsibility and ditch the animal.
The concept of abandoned animals is nothing new for me, but it still causes a cold fire to settle in my chest.
“Dammit,” I curse, then open the gate, slipping inside, not allowing Blake to follow.
The dog scurries into the corner, trying to get as far away from me as possible.
I take a seat in the middle of the kennel, giving her space but letting her know that I’m here when she needs me.
“She gets nervous and chews on her legs.”
“Animals do that?” Blake asks from behind me.
“When they’re scared or anxious, they can.” I keep my tone calm and composed. Raging over what someone did to this dog won’t change anything. It’ll just make her more afraid of me.
Blake continues her questioning. “How do you help something like that?”
Peering over my shoulder, I answer, “You make them feel loved.”
“You seem to be good at that.” Sadness mixed with awe swells in her eyes.
Breaking eye contact, I turn back around. “It’s easy when the one time you fail, the consequences were irreparable.”
“What do you mean?”
Nausea wells in my stomach as images run through my head like a slideshow of my worst memories.
I haven’t talked about this in a long time. Walker and Santiago were present when I went through it. They were a constant presence, offering various comforts and distractions. Landon and Grant were also around, but not in the same way.
“When I was fourteen, my best friend hung himself in his closet. When I found him, it was already too late.” Licking my lips, I force myself to hold my head high.
I shouldn’t feel the shame. I shouldn’t feel the guilt.
But it’s always there, waiting to suffocate me.
“Oh my…I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.” Blake’s voice breaks then firms like she’s trying to instill me with strength through her words. “You can’t think that it’s your fault. Like you said, you were fourteen.”
Angling my feet to the side, I spin around halfway toward her, but I keep my focus on the chain link.
“I may not have been able to prevent it,” I admit out loud, the truth more for me than for her.
“I’ll never know. But I often wonder if he knew how much I loved him.
He was my friend. We were together every day. ”
A single tear slips from the corner of my eye, and I wipe it away. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I don’t want to think of my friend and only feel sadness. I want to remember him for how he lived.
“He knew.”
Blake’s platitude draws my attention to her. It’s one I’ve heard many times, but hearing it from her feels different.
Her eyes swim with a million thoughts and emotions—so many that I can’t interpret them all.
But one shines above the rest.
Empathy.
A warmth I don’t deserve wraps me in a comforting embrace.
A tear slides down Blake’s face, but unlike me, she lets the streak stay. As if she’s letting me witness her vulnerability—trusting me with it.
A cold, wet nose pushes on my elbow. Peering down at the dog, I lift my arm and let him crawl into my lap.
“That’s how I know your friend knew you loved him,” Blake comments, and I let the confidence of her words fill a hole in my chest that I’ve purposely kept empty. I didn’t think I was deserving.
But she does.
And if she can give me her trust, I can give her mine.
I’m not sure how long I sit there with the German Shepherd in my lap, but when I glance over at Blake again, she’s curled up on the floor with her head resting on Bear. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is even.
This woman.
This foul-mouthed, sassy, wonderful woman.
Gently, I remove the dog from my lap and place her on the cushion in the corner.
I barely have enough room to open the gate and slide out.
Bear stirs, but Blake remains still. Bending down, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her into the kitchen.
I set her down on the old couch in there, covering her with the blanket from one of the cabinets.
Bear hops up on the couch with Blake, taking up the space behind her knees.
“You can cuddle her this time, but next time, it’s my turn,” I whisper to Bear.
He rolls his eyes at me and grumbles.
Great. I have a sassy woman and a dog with an attitude to match.
I crouch down, sitting on the tiled floor and ignoring the way it makes my back tighten. Settling in, I rest my back against the couch.
This time, when I close my eyes, there are no nightmares, no injured Blake.
Just me and the people I love, enjoying the peace we bring each other.