Chapter 6
six
Dylan
I’m poring over old patient files, listening to the murmur of rain outside, when I hear a soft rap on the door. I look up to find Dr. Jenkins standing there.
“Oh, shoot. Is it seven already?” I glance at the clock on the wall, relieved to see it’s only six fifteen. I’ve zoned out a couple times before and been late getting home, much to Patrick’s disappointment and Tommy’s fury.
“Not quite,” Dr. Jenkins says with a smile. “I just thought you might like to take a break to come sit in on a consultation. I’ve already approved it with the owner.”
Excitement arcs through me like an electric jolt.
While I don’t mind spending most of my time sequestered in a back room typing in paperwork, watching Dr. Jenkins’ calm expertise while he interacts with people’s treasured pets has only confirmed my desire to become a vet.
Even if I end up delaying that moment for my family’s sake.
The thought of giving up my internship to help out more around the house or pick up extra shifts at the Red Rocket tears at me.
Selfish or not, I love it here. But I can’t get Tommy’s accusation out of my head.
Each time I return here, I tell myself I’ll do the responsible thing and talk to Dr. Jenkins about cutting back my hours or quitting outright.
And each time, I chicken out.
“That’d be great!” I say, my eagerness only slightly dampened.
“I thought you’d say as much. Well, come on then. This one’s a bit of an urgent case and Paula’s out tonight, so I could use the extra help.”
I follow him through the back of the office. I expect him to cut toward the front waiting room, but instead he turns the opposite way, heading straight for the exam room.
“What happened?” I ask, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.
“Someone found a kitten hiding under a car.”
We pass a window. I glance toward it right in time to witness a flash of lightning. Sprays of water gush against the windowpanes. “In this?”
Dr. Jenkins nods grimly. “Hypothermia and malnourishment are potential concerns, but right now, I’m more worried about a wound she has on her front left leg. I may need your assistance with the examination.”
I nod, my pulse racing. Up until now, I’ve only sat in on more routine visits. This will be the first time I’ve seen Dr. Jenkins handle an emergency. The thought leaves me both thrilled to learn and anxious I might screw it up.
Some of my tension eases when we enter the exam room and I spy Wendel, one of Dr. Jenkins’ techs, already there. At least, I won’t be the only support in the room.
Wendel gives me a polite nod, but his attention remains focused on the small ball of fur wrapped in a towel on the exam table.
Maybe it’s just my perspective, but the kitten looks so tiny there, dwarfed by a warming pad and the people looming over it.
Its fur is ragged and matted, its face scrunched up as it curls in on itself.
A single paw sticks out from the towel, which I assume must be the wounded one.
Dr. Jenkins quickly takes charge, any hint of his good humor falling away as he becomes all professional business.
He steps up to examine the kitten, muttering to Wendel.
Wendel nods and maintains his firm grip on the kitten while Dr. Jenkins moves past him and begins drawing out instruments from a cupboard.
“As I mentioned before, Mr. Ellington, my intern Dylan will be observing in case we require any extra help. Based on what I can see, however, there’s no cause for alarm. You’re welcome to stay and watch if you’d like, or you can wait in the reception area out front.”
“It’s not even my cat,” a familiar voice growls. “Can’t I just leave it here with you?”
My head jerks up, my skin tingling. I’d been so distracted by the kitten that I hadn’t even noticed the Good Samaritan who’d rescued her hovering off to the side. Ash stands with his arms crossed and a scowl plastered over his face.
He’s also shirtless.
My eyes linger on the handful of water droplets still clinging to the lean muscles on his chest before I catch myself and wrench my gaze away, swallowing.
I need to focus—there are far more important things warranting my attention right now than the hot, broody guy who’s steadfastly ignored me ever since our first (and only) conversation that one lunch period.
Heat tinges my cheeks when I realize out of the corner of my eye that Ash has shifted his glare to me. I squirm beneath his scrutiny. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting me to be Dr. Jenkins’ intern when he agreed to let me observe, though why my presence would bother him so much, I can’t say.
Dr. Jenkins fixes Ash with a frown. “I’m afraid you leaving isn’t really an option. We’re a veterinary office, not a shelter. While I’m happy to examine the cat for you, our policy dictates that I release her into your custody when I’m finished.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it?” Ash demands. My rigid shoulders relax when his annoyed gaze flicks back to Dr. Jenkins.
“That is up to you, Mr. Ellington. If you wish to take her home with you, you may. Otherwise, I can recommend a couple local shelters that might have room.” He hesitates. “Or I suppose you could return her to where you found her,” he adds with obvious reluctance.
“No!” I shout, taking a reflexive step forward.
Dr. Jenkins gives me a warning look.
Ash’s brow shoots up, his annoyance giving way to surprise, but I forge ahead. “You can’t just abandon her back in the street—especially not in the middle of this storm!”
“It would be…ill-advised,” Dr. Jenkins confirms. “If your goal is the well-being of the cat, which I assume it is since you went to the trouble of bringing her to us.”
Ash glances between me and Dr Jenkins, his expression darkening. “Fine. Whatever. Just do what you’ve got to do for it. I’ll sort the rest out when you’re finished.” With one last inscrutable look at me, he storms out the door to the waiting room, slamming it behind him.
Dr. Jenkins sighs and shakes his head. “I suppose some people just aren’t animal lovers.”
“Like you said, he did bring her in,” I note, unsure why I’m defending Ash.
“True,” Dr. Jenkins concedes. A pitiful mew comes from the table, and he turns back to Wendel and the kitten.
“You’re quite right, little one—enough delay.
Let’s see to that leg of yours, and then maybe a bath and a check-up.
I have a sneaking suspicion we might need a report to send over to the shelter when we’re done… ”
Forty minutes later, I follow Dr. Jenkins out to the waiting room, holding a dozing kitten swaddled in a blanket in my arms. Its faint purrs vibrate through my chest.
“Give her one a day of each for the next week,” Dr. Jenkins tells Ash, holding out two pill bottles.
Ash narrows his eyes. “What the hell does it need drugs for? Is something wrong with it?”
“These are mostly preventative. One is for pain relief while the other is an antibiotic to help ward off infections.” The doctor’s smile turns wry.
“And before you ask, if you end up dropping her off at a shelter, you can leave the pills and instructions with them. I think that’s the best we can do for her tonight.
If her condition worsens, you can visit us between 8 AM and 8 PM or go to the emergency animal clinic over in Davport. Take care.”
With that, Dr. Jenkins retreats toward the back. He pauses when he passes me long enough to squeeze my shoulder. “Good job tonight, Dylan. You kept your cool and brought me exactly what I needed when I needed it. I can tell you really care. You’ll make a fantastic vet someday.”
“T-thank you, sir!”
He nodes wearily and departs. That leaves me alone with Ash and Wendel, the purring kitten still in my arms. Ash pointedly avoids looking at me, scowling as he pays Wendel for the visit. Maybe he’s hoping that if he ignores me, the kitten will magically disappear.
A buried part of me is jealous at how casually he drops what must be a couple hundred bucks on a cat he doesn’t even seem to care that much about.
Had our roles been reversed, I’d have been scrambling to come up with the money, maybe begged to work out some kind of payment plan.
But then again, I’m also wearing thrift store purchases that don’t quite fit right instead of the sleek, stylish (and boringly black) clothes Ash seems to favor.
Out of excuses to avoid me, Ash turns to regard me, crossing his arms. Disappointment flickers through me when I notice he put his shirt back on at some point, the damp material clinging to his chest.
“Now what?” he demands.
I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”
His scowl deepens. “The cat’s had its check-up, and I’ve got the medication to prove it.” He jangles the bag with the two bottles of pills. “So, what’s the next step?”
“The next…” Am I just tired or is Ash being unusually dense? I hold out my purring bundle. “There is no next step. At least, not here. She’s your responsibility now.”
His expression darkens. “Great. Just what I need.”
Starting to get annoyed by his attitude, I deposit the cat into his reluctant arms. “So sorry you’ve been inconvenienced like this. How dare this cat get hurt and almost freeze to death while you happened to be nearby? I mean, the nerve!”
“Hey, I didn’t ask for any of this! I’m the last person that should be entrusted with the fate of another living being.”
“Well, too bad! You’re all this cat’s got, so unless you plan to put her back on the street, suck it up and do the right thing.” My eyes narrow as I picture the poor kitten huddled in a puddle. “You’re not actually considering leaving her outside, are you?”
His eyes widen. He clutches the cat to his chest almost protectively.
“Of course not! I’m not a monster.” I raise an eyebrow, and he scowls.
“Shut up. I brought the damn thing here, didn’t I?
Ran over a mile in the rain with it wrapped in my shirt.
So don’t lecture me on responsibility. I did my part. ”
Well, that explains his previous lack of a shirt. Probably should have questioned that earlier. “Fair enough. Except that your part’s not finished yet. If you’re not going to abandon her outside like her last owner, your options are to take her home or to a shelter.”
He glances out the window at the torrential rain. “It’d be fine in a shelter?”
I hesitate for a beat before opting for a shrug. “Hard to say. They do the best they can, but they’re pretty much always overcrowded. Still, it’s better than being out on the street, especially with an injured leg.”
Ash looks down at the bundle in his arms and bites his lip. “What about you? Can’t you take it home? You like animals.”
I reluctantly shake my head. “I can’t. My family would never go for it.” Nor could we afford the extra expenses right now. “What about yours?”
“It’s just me and my aunt,” he says, dodging the question.
I don’t let him get away with the evasion. “And is your aunt a cat person?”
“I think my aunt is an everything kind of person. I seriously doubt she’d have a problem if I brought home a pet peacock.”
His response startles a chuckle out of me. It’s the first crack I’ve seen in his sullen aloofness since he got here. He grins at me for a moment, then seems to remember he’s supposed to be angry and suppresses his humor beneath a fresh scowl.
Somehow though, it doesn’t seem as intense as before. Maybe he’s finally relaxing his defenses a hair. Or maybe I’m beginning to realize how much of it is just an act. The realization gives me the courage I need to press him.
“In that case, maybe you should take her home.”
“Me?” he scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” I lean against the counter, raising an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you hear what I said before about being trusted with another life?”
“Sure. I just think it’s a pretty bullshit excuse.
” He sputters, and I continue before he can muster a retort.
“Clearly, you care or else you wouldn’t have brought her here to begin with.
And I can say for a fact that she’d be better off in a home than on the streets or in a shelter.
We’ve already established your aunt won’t mind. So…any other arguments?”
“Why bother?” he mutters. “You’ll just counter them.”
I laugh again, and I swear he wears a slight smirk before he quickly conceals it. It’s like a ray of sunlight breaking through on a cloudy day. I glance outside. Or perhaps a bolt of lightning, sizzling the air around it with a flash of momentary brilliance.
“Soo,” I say, drawing out the word. “What’s it going to be?”
He lets out a beleaguered sigh. “Oh, for God’s sake, fine! I’ll keep the damn cat for now and see what my aunt says. But I still think it’s a bad idea.”
“And I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
He squints at me. Even across the waiting room, I shift beneath his sudden intense scrutiny. “You barely know me, and the one time we talked, I was a jerk. How can you possibly be so sure I won’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to this cat?”
I meet his emerald gaze, holding it for a long moment. “Because I’ve seen enough to tell that, no matter the tough guy act you put on, you’re a good person, Ash.”
Something like pain and sorrow and regret all rolled up in one flickers across his face. Before I can even begin to process the complex flurry of emotion, he’s spinning toward the door leading outside into the storm.
“Whatever. See you around.”
I watch him go, a slight grin tugging at my lips when I notice the way he huddles around the bundled-up kitten to shield it from the whipping wind and rain.
I stand by my assessment—beneath all his bravado, he’s a good guy.
I’d already had to fight the urge to approach him again.
Now, the temptation is stronger than ever.
Whatever’s up with you, Ash Ellington, whatever inner pain you’re hiding, I’ll figure it out…and I’ll find a way to make it all better.