She helps Pete load Bandit into the crate in the back of the truck, then takes the bottle of water Pete hands her and pours some in a bowl. Bandit laps it up right away. Watching her stroke his ears, speaking soft words, makes my chest tight.
She cradles his head in her hands. “It’s okay, boy. You’re safe now.”
But I’m not completely sure we are.
After the sheriff climbs back into his cruiser, Marcus heads toward the Animal Services truck, unleashing his wrath on Hannah. “You witch! You did this!”
He’s yelling obscenities at her that make my stomach clench. I insert myself between him and Hannah, preparing to take the dude down if he takes another step forward. Pete says something to Hannah, but I don’t hear it because I’m buzzingwith adrenaline and ready to pounce on this guy, despite my shoulder.
Thankfully, the officer moves in and herds Marcus off the sidewalk and into his yard before he moves any closer.
Hannah hands me her keys. “I’m going to ride in the back with Bandit. Can you follow us?”
“Sure thing.”
She sounds composed, but I didn’t miss the way her hand shook when she held out the keys. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but now is not the time for questions because Bandit is the highest priority in Hannah’s mind.
Guess it’s good I came along. Otherwise, she’d have to come back here for her car and risk facing the wrath of Marcus again. The man is unhinged and is still shouting at the sheriff as we drive off.
I follow Pete to the facility and park opposite the van.
As soon as they take Bandit inside, Pete checks him over. “I’ve got a vet on call. I think we need to get him here right away.”
Even I can read between the lines, and Hannah’s expression confirms it—Pete’s concerned they’ll have to put Bandit down.
Hannah continues to stroke the little guy, urging him to drink more water with her soft words as her fingers run between the dirty layers of fur. I can only see the back of her head, but her sniffles are unmistakable as if Bandit were hers all along. Like a lost pet finally returned home. I can’t even imagine what this is doing to her right now.
Yet I can’t help but think Bandit and I are a lot like those baby turtles. We’re both facing uncertain futures. Lifeguarding saved me…showed me my true purpose in life.
If I lose that, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
Hannah isquiet as we walk away from the facility toward her car. More silent than I’ve ever seen her. Her chin is tucked, and her arms are wrapped around her middle. I want to tug her close and comfort her, tell her everything’s going to be okay.
But I don’t know that for sure. Neither of us does. Fortunately, the vet didn’t want to put Bandit down, but he did say the next twenty-four hours were critical. If Bandit can make it through the night and stabilize, they’ll attempt to correct his back injury with surgery. The vet also said he had a fighting chance since he wasn’t very old. Three or four at the most.
Just the thought of that dog suffering after being injured and left in that shape makes me want to throttle his owner. At least now Bandit won’t suffer anymore.
Hannah holds her hand out. “Keys?”
The despondency in her voice twists my gut into knots. “I’ll drive.”
She lifts her chin. “I may be upset, but I’m capable of driving.”
I stride to the passenger side and open the door for her. “I know, but I like driving your car.”
Her expression puckers with her disbelief. “Give me a break. That thing’s a ten-year-old junker on its last leg. A far cry from that shiny new truck you drive.”
I love seeing her feistiness return. “It’s not new. I simply maintain it. Yours just needs a little TLC.”
“Are you offering?”
I shrug. “Sure. I know the basics.”
“Then I’ll give you a discount on your sessions in exchange. How’s that sound?”
“Not necessary. I’m helping a friend.”
She slides in and lets me shut her door, which I consider a small win.
