“Dev,” she says, sounding surprised.
“You, okay? What’s wrong with them?”
She settles into the seat, pulling the carrier on her lap, but doesn’t bother with her seatbelt.
I don’t start backing out.
“Hurry, we’ve got to go.”
“Need to do up your seatbelt.” I reach over her and the big container in her lap to grab the belt, pulling it carefully across her, weaving it around the carrier to snap into place. I know she’s upset, but I would not be able to handle it if anything happened and she got hurt.
The streetlights highlight her tear-streaked face when she turns to me with a pleading look.
“What’s the address?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. The only emergency vet that takes small animals is an hour’s drive. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course.”
She grabs my phone, punching in the address, and I peel out of the driveway, neck stretched back to do a shoulder check.
“So, what happened?”
The adrenaline from the game had just released me from its clutches when Beau got the call, and it ramped right back up to a hundred.
“They’re not breathing properly. It’s my fault. They both seemed a little listless earlier, but I’ve been so busy working with Anna that I didn’t really pay attention. I should have taken them to the vet right away. Guinea pigs are really susceptible to respiratory infections. They could die, and it would be all my fault.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I know you take good care of them.”
She shakes her head, clearly not buying my line. “Anyway, it started getting worse. Rogue was gasping for air. They breathe through their noses; they’re not supposed to breathe through their mouths like that. Gambit wasn’t even moving. I didn’t know what to do. Georgia was on a date, and Anna and Blake are at a concert tonight. I didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“You could have called me first. I would have found a way to come for you.”
She sniffles as we stop at a red light, and I turn to see her swiping a shaky hand across her cheek. “Even though this is secret? What if Beau found out?”
I shrug, stepping on the gas as the light turns green. “He told me to be available to you if you needed anything. This wouldn’t be a surprise for him.
“Oh. Right.” Is she disappointed? Is it bothering her we’re keeping this thing between us a secret? What am I even doing? She deserves to be shown off, not hidden away in a corner.
“I’m sorry.” I’m tapping an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel, and I fall silent for a few minutes, but I can’t stand the soft sniffles. I’d do anything to distract her from her fear.
“How’s the novel coming?”
“What?”
“How’s it coming? I’d love to see more of the story.”
“Um. We finished another few chapters. Annie and I work surprisingly well together.”
She’s tentative and distracted, but the conversation keeps her mind off her worry for the rest of the drive and that’s a win in my book.
But as soon as we slide into a parking spot at the well-lit vet’s office, she’s climbing out of the car, struggling with the large container.
I’m glad to see there’s only one other anxious looking woman in the waiting room when we get there. She reluctantly lets me grab the carrier from her, holding it carefully while she talks to the receptionist, and fills out the paperwork.
I place the plastic box on the counter to peer in at the little creatures. An automatic shiver runs down my back when I see the little rodents, but as soon as it passes, I feel sorry for them. They’re both lying there, mouths open, and I can hear their breathing. That can’t be a good thing. Cece loves these little things, and if I’m going to be in her life, I think I’m going to have to learn to love them too.
“Hey,” I say, poking a finger into one of the holes in the side to touch the soft fur. I’m not sure which one is which, but it doesn’t even blink at me. I really hope the vet can help them. The thought of Cece suffering is causing an ache in my own chest.
