"Yes, you can. We'll figure something out." She leans forward, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Is there anyone who could stay with Gordie after his surgery? Someone you trust?"
I think for a moment. "My neighbor, LeMarcus. He dog-sits when I'm on the road. But this is different. This is medical."
"The vet staff will handle the medical part. LeMarcus just needs to be with him, right? Keep him company while he recovers?"
"Maybe." I scrub a hand over my face. "I could ask him."
"Good. Do that." She squeezes my knee. "Let's finish the paperwork and go home."
Somehow, Lena manages to handle everything. She’s calm and assertive, and I stare in wonder as they teach her how to give my dog his pain medication.
He wags his tail weakly and licks her hand, and I almost pass out from relief. I press my forehead against his, whispering promises I intend to keep about toys and treats and never ignoring him again.
It's nearly ten by the time we leave the clinic. I text LeMarcus on the drive home, and he immediately responds that he'll be happy to Gordie-sit tomorrow. Small mercies.
I cradle Gordie in my arms like a baby after Lena parks. She unlocks the door and smiles at me as I pass, walking directly to my room and placing Gordie on my bed where he belongs.
When I stand to take off my shirt and prepare to climb into bed with my dog, I see Lena in the doorway. She studies a bag of pre-filled syringes and arranges them up on my dresser.
I stare at her, this woman who spent her day off paddling rivers and swinging on playgrounds with me, whorecognized Gordie's distress when I dismissed it, who drove us to the emergency vet and handled the paperwork when I could barely function.
"Stay with me," I beg, the words escaping before I can second-guess them. "In my room, I mean. The bed's plenty big enough, and—" I falter, unsure how to express the hollow ache in my chest that I know will expand the moment I'm alone.
Lena studies my face for a long moment. "Okay," she says finally. "But just sleeping. I'm not taking advantage of your emotional state."
A startled laugh escapes me. "Wasn't planning to seduce you while worrying about my dog's surgery, but thanks for clarifying."
She smiles, the tension breaking slightly. "Just setting boundaries. Something we're supposedly getting better at."
"Supposedly," I agree, climbing beneath the sheets, shirt on.
Lena disappears to change and brush her teeth, returning in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She smiles and climbs into the bed on the other side of Gordie, the two of us flanking him.
I turn off the light, and we both lie there, stroking his fur as he snores.
"Thank you," I say finally. "For today. All of it."
"Anyone would have done the same."
"No, they wouldn't." I look at her silhouette in the darkness. "Most people would have just told me to calm down and call a vet in the morning. You recognized it was serious. You took charge when I couldn't."
She's quiet for a moment. "I care about Gordie too, you know."
"I know." And I do know, suddenly and with complete certainty. "That's kind of amazing."
We lapse into silence again, but it's more comfortable now.The knot of tension in my chest slowly unravels as exhaustion takes over. Just as I'm drifting off, Lena's hand finds mine under the covers, her fingers tangling with mine in a loose hold.
"He's going to be okay," she murmurs, her voice thick with approaching sleep.
"Yeah," I whisper back. "Yeah, he is."
My phone rings at 4:17 AM, jolting me from sleep. Disoriented, I fumble for it and nearly drop it in my haste to answer when I see the vet clinic's number.
"Hello? This is Alder Stag."
"Mr. Stag, this is Amanda from Pittsburgh Emergency Veterinary Clinic. We've had a schedule change and have an opening for Gordie's surgery at 6:30 this morning. Can you come in by 5 to complete the pre-surgical paperwork?"
"Yes," I say immediately, sitting up. "Yes, we'll be there."
