With a heavy sigh, Brooke reached for the door handle. A stinging pain shot from her palm as she curled it around the handle, making her flinch. It was the hundredth time already that morning that she’d forgotten about her burned hands. All things considered, the wounds were minor and healing beautiful. The occasional spike of pain was an annoyance more than anything else. Brooke didn’t appreciate being hindered in any capacity.
Humidity assaulted her the second she stepped into the late summer morning. The air was so thick, sweat coated her forehead from the short walk to her front door. After a quick battle with the key, she pushed her front door open. “Oh, that feels so good,” she said on an exhale as the cool air of her home washed over her.
Ray bounded toward her with his heavy tongue lolling. He stopped and plopped his fuzzy butt down at her feet.
“Hi, baby boy,” she said, holding her dressed hand out for him. As he’d been doing the past two days, he sniffed before allowing her to rub the gauzy bandage over his head. “Let’s go upstairs, bud. I need a bath.” Showers were out of the question until the bandages came off. Nancy had stopped by the night before to wash her hair in the sink, but a full-body soak sounded like heaven at the moment, especially since her back ached like a mother.
Fifteen minutes later, Brooke sank down into the large soaking tub with a moan of appreciation. She kept her hands resting on the ledges of the tub, safe and dry.
“I could live in here,” she announced to Ray, who lounged on the rug next to her tub. His only response was a twitch of his ear.
She’d spent the morning on the phone with the insurance company. They claimed a check would be mailed out in a few weeks, which made her heart sink. A few weeks felt like an eternity when she needed a place for her foster dogs yesterday. After she’d finished with the insurance company, she’d called the contractor who’d built her kennel to discuss plans for a rebuild. The only good thing to come of this whole fucking mess was being able to add a few touches to the kennel she wished she’d done the first time around.
That tiny sliver of positive news didn’t come close to outweighing how shitty the entire situation was.
After what felt like hours on the phone, she’d gone to David’s clinic to spend time with her foster dogs. They’d been thrilled to see her and whiny when she left, which broke her heart. She might have to find a way to keep them all in her house until the kennel could be rebuilt.
Another sigh left her. She seemed to be doing that a lot the past few days, trying to expel her overwhelming stress with her breath. She closed her eyes and attempted to clear her mind so she could enjoy the warm water lapping at her skin. The warm water did wonders for her stiff and knotted back.
As the warmth of the water lulled her into a sleepy state, a low growl sounded from next to the tub,
“I don’t think so, Ray. So not in the mood.”
He growled again. Louder this time.
Brooke opened one eye and peered over the edge of the tub just as Ray sprang to his feet and began to snarl in earnest. She frowned as her heart began to pound with memories of the other night when he’d reacted similarly. Given that he’d saved her life and the lives of the other dogs, she wasn’t inclined to ignore his distress. “What’s wrong, bud?”
His ears stood at attention, and his tail had dropped between his legs. He shifted forward as though ready to pounce at any moment. This time, when he growled, his upper lip quivered, baring the sharp teeth that inflict do some serious damage.
Brooke’s stomach knotted. Over the years, she’d learned to trust Ray’s instinct. The night of the fire marked the second time he’d saved her life. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m coming.” Quiet as possible, she climbed out of the tub. She didn’t bother with a towel but grabbed her fluffy lavender robe from a hook next to the tub. Water cascaded everywhere, slicking the tile floor. She ignored the discomfort of the now-soaked robe against her skin as she grabbed Ray’s collar.
“Okay, buddy, let’s go slow.”
With a loose grip on his collar to avoid harming her injured hand, they started forward. Ray continued to growl but didn’t lunge or drag her forward.
“What is it?” she whispered. “What do you hear?” Straining her ears didn’t help. The house was silent. Still, Ray stayed on alert and her gut churned with fear. Something wasn’t right. She knew it. Felt it.
With a light tug on Ray’s collar, she stopped as she shoved her free hand in her pocket.