Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Gayle pulled her cardigan tighter around herself and tried to focus on the adoption applications spread across her desk.
It was getting colder. She was pretty sure it was getting colder.
She stood and walked to the thermostat mounted on the wall of her office, checking the setting. Heat. Seventy degrees. It should be running. But when she held her hand up to the nearest vent, she felt only cool air.
"Come on," she muttered, tapping the thermostat like that might help. "Don't do this to me."
From the kennels, Biscuit whined softly, as if in agreement.
Gayle headed to the storage room where the ancient heating system sat, a relic from the 1980s that the shelter could barely afford to maintain. She stood in front of it, listening.
There. A groaning sound. Then silence.
"No, no, no," she said to the machine, as though it could hear her. "Not today."
She tried the thermostat again. Still nothing. The groaning sound didn't return. The system had simply given up.
Gayle sank into her office chair and pulled up her phone, searching for emergency HVAC services in the area. Three options came up, all of them on the mainland. She called the first one.
"Thanks for calling Henderson Heating and Air, but our office is closed for the day. Please call back during business hours?—"
She hung up and tried the second. Same message. The third one actually picked up.
"Yeah, we've got an emergency slot," the dispatcher said, "but it's going to be tomorrow morning at the earliest. And that's a minimum hundred-fifty just to come look at it. Could be more depending on what's wrong."
Gayle's stomach dropped. A hundred and fifty dollars just to look.
"And if the system needs replacing?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
"Could run you anywhere from two to five thousand depending on the unit."
Gayle thanked them and hung up. She sat staring at her phone, trying to do math that didn't add up. The shelter's emergency fund was maybe eight hundred dollars. Insurance didn't cover this.
There had to be some other way. She could call Miss Doris. The elderly woman knew everyone on the island. She could probably recommend a handyman, someone who could give her a more affordable option.
Gayle was just pulling up Miss Doris's number when her phone rang. Corey's name flashed on the screen.
She almost didn't answer. She was too tired, too stressed, too close to the edge of falling apart.
"Hi," she said, and heard the exhaustion in her own voice.
"Hey, I was just thinking about you," Corey said warmly. "I have tomorrow off, and I was wondering if maybe?—"
"Not tonight, Corey," Gayle interrupted, more sharply than she intended. "I'm dealing with something at the shelter."
"What's wrong?" His tone shifted immediately from casual to concerned.
"The heating system just died," Gayle said, and felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. "It's fine. I'll figure it out."
"Gayle—"
"I have to go. I need to figure out what to do." She hung up before he could respond.
She finished checking on the animals, creating cozy nests of blankets in the kennels. Copper seemed to understand something was off and stayed close to her, his old eyes worried. She sat with him for a moment, running her hand over his soft fur.
"We'll be okay," she told him, the words feeling hollow. "We always figure it out."
But the truth was, she didn't know how she was going to figure this out.
She was still sitting with Copper when the knock came on the shelter door.
Gayle checked her watch. It was nearly eight p.m. The shelter was closed. Through the glass, she saw Corey standing outside with his arms full of something.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, opening the door.
"You sounded like you were drowning, so I came," Corey said simply. He held up what he was carrying. "I brought some space heaters. They're not perfect, but they'll help keep the temperature stable through the night."
Gayle felt something in her chest tighten. "You didn't have to?—"
"I know," Corey said, already moving inside. "But I also called Tom Richardson. He owns an HVAC company. He'll be here first thing tomorrow morning to look at the system. Probably around seven."
Gayle stared at him. "You called—how did you even?—"
"Tom's son in my third period class," Corey said, already surveying the shelter to figure out the best placement for the heaters. "I figured it was worth asking." He set the heaters down carefully. "Where can we plug these in?”
Gayle pointed numbly to one of the outlets in the main room. Corey walked around methodically placing heaters in the kennels, checking that cords weren't a hazard, and adjusting the placement to maximize heat distribution.
He moved through the shelter like he belonged there, and Gayle realized with a start that she wanted him to belong there. That having him here, helping, felt like the most natural thing in the world.
It terrified her.
"The temperature's already coming up," Corey said a little while later, coming back to where she was standing. "These should keep it stable through the night. And I’m sure Tom will fix your system in the morning."
"I can't pay for this," Gayle said, and heard the panic in her voice. "The repair cost, the space heaters?—"
"You're not paying me," Corey said firmly. "These are mine. And I’m sure Tom will make you a deal. If it’s more than you can cover, we’ll figure out a way to raise the funds."
"But—"
"Gayle." Corey stepped closer, and his voice was gentle but brooking no argument. "Let people help you. Please."
She felt tears spill over, and she couldn't stop them. The stress, the fear, the weight of carrying everything alone for so long, all came pouring out. She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Corey didn't say anything. He just pulled her against his chest and held her while she cried, his hand warm on the back of her head.
When the tears finally slowed, Gayle pulled back slightly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart."
"Don't apologize," Corey said. He reached up and gently wiped a tear from her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. The touch was so tender, so careful, that Gayle felt fresh tears threaten. "You've been carrying this alone for too long."
"I don't know how to let someone help," Gayle admitted. "I don't know how to not be responsible for everything."
"You're learning," Corey said. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her face. "And you're not alone anymore. Okay?"
Gayle nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
They did a final check of the kennels together, making sure all the animals were comfortable and warm. The heaters hummed softly, filling the space with warmth. By the time they finished, the temperature had risen five degrees.
"You should go home and I should figure out a bed down here," Gayle said, though she didn't move. "Get some sleep before tomorrow."
"Probably," Corey agreed. He pulled her close again, this time wrapping his arms around her from behind as they stood looking out at the kennels. "But you're going to be okay. The system will be fixed tomorrow, the animals are warm tonight, and you have help."
Gayle leaned back against him, letting herself accept the comfort just for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Always," Corey replied, and she believed him.
When he finally left, Gayle stood in the warm shelter surrounded by content animals, and for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel completely alone.
It was terrifying. But it was also, she was beginning to realize, exactly what she'd been needing all along.