Chapter 11
ELEVEN
COLE
During the drive to the vet clinic, I ask myself if it was wise to leave the girls alone.
Jules wouldn’t get Sophie into trouble, but I damn well know she can be a bit over the top sometimes.
And Sophie’s clearly the stark opposite of that, so Jules could be asking too much of her.
But I also know that she can be empathetic, and since she’s not stupid, I probably have to trust that she can judge what’s too much for Sophie.
Furthermore, I can’t deny that Sophie seems to feel comfortable in Jules’s presence.
She was visibly more relaxed and hung on her every word whenever she showed or explained something to her.
And while it’s kind of naive, I like the idea of the two of them becoming friends.
Because both Sophie and Jules could really use one.
I mean, yes, I’ve been a good friend to Jules over the years and have always been there when she needed something.
But I have a dick, so I’m not exactly the right person to talk to when it comes to certain things, no matter how hard I try.
Sophie, on the other hand, could help her with matters that clearly exceed my male competence.
Jesus… What am I even thinking? Jules and Sophie?
Becoming friends? The girl hasn’t even been here for twenty-four hours.
Not to mention that she won’t stay forever.
It’s completely pointless to think about the two becoming friends.
As soon as Sophie is halfway settled and knows what she wants and where she wants to go, she’ll be out of our lives. And that’s a good thing.
"Hello, Mr. Walker," one of the veterinary assistants greets me cheerfully as I enter the clinic’s reception area. "It’s nice to see you checking on Buster again."
Buster? Did I miss something? Yesterday, the stray that ran in front of my truck a few days ago was simply called dog.
I guess that’s one of those woman things.
They constantly have to give names to everything and everyone and then wonder why it breaks their hearts when the previously nameless something is suddenly no longer there.
Without addressing the stupid name, I follow her to the back. "How is he?"
"He’s doing well. If he doesn’t reopen his stitches, we’ll be able to release him in a few days."
"Where will he end up then?" I ask before I can stop myself.
"Since he’s not registered and doesn’t appear to have an owner, he’ll be handed over to the local animal shelter."
I don’t miss the accusing undertone, but I let it bounce off me.
She won’t manage to make me feel bad just because I don’t adopt the dog.
I mean, who the fuck am I? A charity? I brought him in and am covering the costs of his treatment.
That should be enough to pay off my debt, which isn’t really a debt at all.
After all, I didn’t hit the dog on purpose, for God’s sake.
"Buster! Look who’s here again!" Miss Reproachful puts on her child’s voice as she opens the door of the cage in which Dog—sorry… I mean Buster—has been living in since the surgery.
When she steps aside and I squat down in front of the cage, the dog lifts his head and curls his lips. The little rascal grins at me, and I can’t prevent the corners of my mouth from twitching at the sight.
"Hey, buddy." I reach out to stroke the mutt’s sand-colored, wire-like fur.
He immediately presses his head against my palm and wags his tail as I’m scratching him behind the ear.
"You keep the staff on their toes, don’t you?"
I examine the bandage that’s meant to protect the surgical wound on his shoulder. It’s obvious he’s been gnawing on it, which only makes me smile even more.
When I asked two days ago if he couldn’t wear a cone, the staff just laughed and then showed me why this endeavor is pointless. It didn’t take the dog five seconds to literally pull his head out of the noose and then look at us as if to say Seriously? That’s all you have to offer?
"You probably like that, huh? I can’t blame you. Being pampered all day… I think it could be worse."
Buster looks at me patiently with his kind brown eyes as I’m talking his ear off.
"But gnawing at the stitches is a no-go. You don’t want to stay here forever, do you?" I keep talking to the dog, ignoring how stupid that actually is.
When Jules asked me three days ago why I wanted to visit him, I talked my way out of it with a rather clumsy excuse, telling her that the treatment costs are billed daily.
And although she didn’t ask further, I could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe a single word I said.
She knows that I would never admit to feeling guilty and that this guilt is why I drive the nearly thirty miles to the vet clinic every day.
My heart almost jumped out of my chest when the dog ran into my pickup on Monday.
He suddenly appeared out of nowhere on one of the rarely used roads through the forest, which are plentiful here.
If I hadn’t stepped on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel, he would have been run over.
Instead, he just crashed into the rim, which gave him a broken shoulder blade that was fixed with screws the same night.
Since then, he has been here. And I visit him.
Every fucking day. Because I feel responsible for him in a messed-up and annoying way.
As for Sophie, says a quiet voice in my head.
"Yeah… as for Sophie," I repeat the words softly to Buster, who tilts his head to the side at her name. "You both have a thing for my truck, huh?"
When my phone chimes, I take it out of my pocket. It’s a text from Steve, telling me that he and the others are coming earlier.
"I’m sorry, buddy, but I have to go now." I scratch him behind the ears one last time before closing the door to his cage. "Don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t take you with me."
Buster lays his head down on his front paws while gazing up at me with a look on his face like I’m about to shoot him. He’s definitely got the pity act down.
He could compete with Jules in that, I think as I stand.
The vet assistant looks up from her paperwork as I reach the reception area. "You’re leaving already?"
"Yes. I have an appointment," I say even though it’s none of her damn business and I don’t owe her an explanation. "Can I visit him this weekend as well?"
She nods, her face lighting up at my question. "Sure. Tomorrow we’ll be here as usual. On Sunday, you’ll have to ring the bell for someone to let you in."
"Okay. Thank you." I turn away to finally leave since her happy vibes almost give me a headache.
"Mr. Walker?"
Pausing, I turn around to her once more. "Yeah?"
"Your visits are his highlight. He only eats after you’ve been here," she says, looking at me urgently.
Not knowing what she expects from me, I just nod and thank her again before saying my final goodbyes and leaving.
When I steer the truck on the highway, I take out my phone again and call Jules. It takes half an eternity before she finally picks up.
"Yes?" she says loudly, sounding a little out of breath as music blares in the background.
Immediately, my alarm bells start ringing. "What the hell is going on over there? Where are you?"
"Nothing," she barks. "We’re at your place. Where else would we be?"
"Why is the music so loud?"
"Cole," Jules drawls. "Every song she knows is at least twice as old as you. I need to get her up to date. Don’t be such a buzzkill."
In the background, I hear the song stop abruptly before a new one starts playing. Looks like Jules has shown Sophie how my sound system works.
"Whatever," I decide, annoyed. "Steve will be there in half an hour. I’ll hurry, but I can’t promise I’ll be there in time."
"Shit. I totally forgot it’s Friday," Jules replies. "Can’t you reschedule it?"
She knows damn well that I can’t. And even though I’m well aware of how much she hates the way I make my living, she should also know that she can’t talk me out of it.
"And what about Sophie?" she challenges before I can say anything. "You can be heard up here. You realize that, right? I can’t stuff cotton in her ears and hope she doesn’t ask what’s going on."
"I’ll tell Steve we need to go somewhere else.
If he doesn’t agree, at least she’ll learn right away that life isn’t all shopping and dancing.
" My voice is a touch too harsh, but I don’t care.
Because one thing is for sure: Since Sophie is staying with me—at least for now—she’s going to be confronted with this sooner or later. So why wait?
"That’s a shitty idea," Jules says after a few seconds of silence.
"You have a better one?" I snap. "Do you want to take her with you to that shoebox you call an apartment?"
Jules gasps before responding in a toneless voice. "You’re acting like an asshole again." Then she hangs up without giving me the chance to say anything back.
Ah fuck… I’ve gone too far with this. I can only hope that she doesn’t give me the cold shoulder again for days on end.
I would’ve deserved it, especially since she was so excited about the little apartment after she discovered it.
And considering the fact that I would have to take care of Sophie alone, it was really stupid to be so cruel.
I glance at the speedometer and curse the speed limit, but even if I were the only person on the road on this damn planet, I’d stick to it. There may not be much I’m so ironclad about, but I won’t let anyone talk me out of this.
When I finally arrive, I fortunately can’t spot Steve’s car. Instead, the music blares to the outside.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," I grumble as I slam the driver’s door. Seconds later, as I open the heavy steel door of the warehouse, some bass-heavy song hits my ears.
"Jules!" I yell her name as soon as I get upstairs before walking quickly toward the stereo to turn that crap down.