Disappointment bursts within me, but I tamp it down. “You need to bring him out more. He should make some friends.”
“You try telling him that. The guy’s not too keen on meeting new people. I think he’d honestly rather be out there in the woods alone with the dogs.”
“Bring him around the Ale House on a weekend next time you go.”
“I think that owner would send him into hiding for the next decade.”
“Muriel?” I laugh. “Nah. She’d put him to work.”
Tyler finishes the last of his beer and then sets the remaining cans on the table by my feet.
“For me? How sweet.”
“It’s the least I could do after showing up here and making you cut off a dog’s leg.”
“Not just a dog. The most famous dog I might ever meet. But at least I’ll get paid in full.” I’ve always hated thinking about my patients in terms of money, but everyone around me does. Maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong all these years.
Tyler moves for the door but then stalls, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry about Harry. I know you said you needed the money from his kennel.”
“He needs me more. He’ll be back.” I don’t necessarily believe it, but if there’s one thing I hate showing, it’s vulnerability.
“Make him beg.”
“More than I made you beg?” I wink to show that I’m teasing.
His eyes drift slowly over my face, over my plaid jacket and my oversized gray sweatpants, all the way down to my dust-covered running shoes. He hesitates for a long moment. “All that stuff you said in the truck last weekend … there’s nothing wrong with wanting that in your life and being sad when you don’t have it.”
Or when you’ve lost it all, as in Tyler’s case. I’m not sure what’s worse. At least I’m only plagued by longing for something I’ve imagined but never experienced.
He’s haunted by actual memories, by real loss.
My heart sinks, and the urge to wrap my arms around him for comfort, as he did for me last weekend, is overpowering.
I don’t know how to respond, so I simply nod.
“And as far as your ex goes, you didn’t make a mistake. You left him because deep down you knew he wasn’t right for you. If he were, you wouldn’t have cared about possibilities with someone else. It’s as simple as that.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I toy with a thread on my sleeve, unable to meet his gaze as I admit with embarrassment, “But I’m beginning to think there isn’t anyone right for me.” Friends have married and divorced, and remarried again, and here I am, choosing between deadbeat dads and blind dates set up by my family.
“There is. There’s a person out there for everyone.” He pats the door frame. “If we’re lucky, maybe even two.”
I watch Tyler’s back as he walks slowly to his truck, his steps faltering … once … twice … as if he’s reconsidering leaving. But that’s just my wishful thinking. This is what I’m good at: getting caught up in fantasy.
He climbs into his truck and pulls away.
Was this impromptu visit a one-off? Or might it be something I’ll be treated to again?
I hope for the latter.
Even if it’s only as friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I give Dingo’s long, velvety ears a gentle stroke. “I’ll meet you out front with the prescription. It’ll take about ten days to clear up the kennel cough and then bring him back for his Bordetella shot. It’s the only way you can avoid this.”
“You got it, Doc. Hey, before you go …” Scott Ponsford lifts his shirt to his neck with both hands, revealing a full chest of dark hair and a rash that stretches down over his round belly. “What do you think this is? It’s itchy as hell.”
“Um …” I clear my throat, caught off guard. “My guess would be an allergic reaction, but I highly recommend you go and see your doctor for a diagnosis. My expertise is with patients like Dingo here. Not humans.”
“Yeah … What could I be allergic to, though?” He grimaces at his body. “And it goes down, past my belt—”
“Definitely something to ponder with your doctor. See you out front.” With one last playful stroke over the beagle’s ear, I slip out of the exam room to the back, my palm pressed over my mouth to muffle my laughter. It’s not the first time a client has tried to hijack their pet’s appointment, looking for medical advice. Normally, they’re a bit subtler about it.
Ten minutes later, after Dingo and Scott (and Scott’s rash) are gone, I’m in the lobby, checking the mail before I head out to Jed Carling’s kennel to give his puppies their first set of shots and check on two dogs that got into a fight.
I set the utility bill in the To Pay folder behind the desk, freeing my hands to knead the sore muscle in my neck, earned after lugging Oliver and Vicki’s furniture down and up flights of stairs all day yesterday. My entire body ached when I woke up this morning, and it’s grown progressively worse as the day has gone on.