Chapter 9: Gabby

GABBY

By Thursday, I was much better. I still had a nasty cough, but my fever was completely gone, and I could move around without feeling like I was going to collapse. I had even managed to take a shower and wash my hair by myself.

"When do we need to head back to your place?" Byte asked over breakfast.

"Maybe around noon?" I suggested. "I have to go by Employee Health and get clearance so I can work tomorrow. Then I need to do laundry and probably make a grocery run."

"We can leave whenever you're ready. Just let me know."

I showered and made myself look as presentable as possible. I was still paler than usual, but I no longer looked like I was knocking on death's door. Once I was ready, I made my way downstairs, carrying the two bags with my belongings.

Byte immediately took the bags from me. "You should've let me bring these down for you."

"I'm not helpless."

"I didn't say you were. But you have been sick, and there's no sense in wasting energy if you don't have to."

"Fine," I huffed. "Would you like to carry me to my car as well?"

"We're taking my truck."

"What about my car?" I asked. I didn't necessarily need it since he drove me everywhere, but I didn't want to leave it in Croftridge in case something happened to his truck again.

"Flint is going to drive it to your place later. Diesel will follow and drive him back to Croftridge."

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to James. I wasn't used to his road name because he'd always been James to me.

While he placed my bags in the truck, I squatted down and hugged the dog who'd been by my side for the last week. "I'm going to miss you," I said and struggled to hold back my tears.

"He's coming with us," Byte announced.

"What?"

"He's coming with us. We haven't found his owners, and he barks whenever someone approaches the house. I think he'll be good to have around," he said, and opened the back passenger door. "Come on, boy. Let's go."

I laughed when the dog didn't budge. "I bet you'll get in if I do," I said and patted his head. Then I got into the front seat while my new best friend dutifully hopped into the back seat.

"You should probably name him," I said once we were on the road.

"Me? He's your dog."

"What?" I asked in surprise. "I can't have a dog. I'm hardly ever home. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"Relax," Byte laughed. "I was kidding. Well, sort of. He obviously likes you more than me."

"I mean, I would love to keep him, but I can't leave him inside for twelve to fourteen hours on the days I work. And even if I did have a fenced yard, I don't think I could leave him outside for that long either."

"What about when you're finished with school? Could you have a dog then?" he asked.

"Probably. It'll really depend on where I end up working."

"How about this? He can stay with me for now. Then after you graduate and start working, if you want him, you can have him," he offered.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Sure," he said, like it wasn't a big deal. "He hasn't been any trouble, and I kind of like him. Besides, I was planning on keeping him before I knew you might want him."

"What a lucky dog. He went from having no one to having two people love him."

"You're not naming him Lucky," Byte grumbled.

"I wasn't going to," I laughed, followed by a fit of coughing.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a residual cough. It should go away in a week or two," I explained.

We spent the rest of the drive trying to come up with a name for the dog, but nothing we thought of seemed to fit him. Before I knew it, Byte was pulling into the parking lot at the hospital.

"This shouldn't take long," I told him.

I was right. It didn't take long. I was walking back to the truck and trying not to cry less than ten minutes later.

"What's wrong?" Byte asked immediately.

"They didn't clear me to return to work," I huffed.

"What? Why not?"

"Because of this fucking cough. I even gave them the note from Patch saying I could return to work, but they didn't care."

"What happens now?"

"She said they'd recheck me in five days. Which means I can't work tomorrow or Monday. Since I'll be at the doctor's office on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I won't be able to get rechecked until Friday. I don't know what in the hell they're thinking. Residual coughs can last for weeks!"

"Are you just upset about letting your coworkers down, or is there more to it?" Byte asked carefully.

"What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat. "Is this about money?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I have a trust fund from my mother. Well, it's really from Keegan. Our mother set up a trust fund for Keegan, but she died before she set one up for me. Because Keegan is Keegan, she put half of hers into an account for me. Somewhere along the way, Gigi added to it. I don't actually have to work. Well, that's not entirely true. I needed the clinical experience to get into grad school. Once I'd worked enough to fulfill the requirement, I kept working part-time for the experience. I've learned much more at the hospital than I ever did from textbooks."

"So what's got you so upset?"

I sighed. "I'm just frustrated, I guess. Because of a protocol created by someone behind a desk, I can't work, even though a practicing physician says I can. Hospital politics are bullshit."

"There's nothing you can do about it, so you might as well enjoy your days off," he said.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure I even know how to do that. Since I only have one or two days off at a time, I usually spend them running errands, doing laundry, or studying."

"Now you have four. Think of something fun to do, and we'll do it," he said.

"There's a place not too far from here where they teach you how to weave your own basket. Then you can fill it full of berries you pick yourself from their farm. I've always thought that would be fun. What do you think?"

Byte audibly swallowed and nodded once. "Sure. I mean, if that's what you want to do," he said and failed to hide his reluctance.

I wanted to keep going, but I couldn't hold back my laughter. "I'm just fucking with you."

"You're going to pay for that," he teased.

"Were you seriously going to go basket weaving and berry picking with me?"

"Yes, I was, but I really didn't want to," he admitted.

"You weren't going to try to talk me out of it?"

He shook his head. "You seemed like you wanted to go. If it was going to make you happy, why would I try to talk you out of it?"

I placed my hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're a good man, Byte."

"I do what I can."

He did a lot more than he could. He'd gone out of his way to watch over me while my family was out of town, after he came to my rescue and chased a burglar out of my house. Then he took excellent care of me while I was sick. He offered to take care of a dog for me until I finished school. And he was willing to spend a whole day doing things he had no interest in to make me happy. I was beginning to realize he was more than a good man. He was a great man. Maybe even a perfect man.

My thoughts were interrupted when Byte abruptly put the truck in park and turned to me. "Stay here," he said and pulled his gun from the holster at his back.

"Wait! What's going on?" I demanded and grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out of the truck.

He pointed toward my house. "Your front door is open."

"I don't think you should go in there."

"I'll be fine, but you need to stay here," he insisted. "Lock the doors, and if something happens, drive away."

"No! Please don't go," I begged.

"Gabby, I'll be fine. I doubt anyone's still in there."

"Then why can't I go with you?" I argued.

"Because you need to stay safe in case someone is in there."

"So do you!"

"Gabby, this is what I do. I'll be okay."

"Fine," I huffed. Then I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me until my lips met his in a bruising kiss. I wasn't sure what kind of reaction to expect, but him grabbing my hair and returning my kiss was more than I could have hoped for.

He broke the kiss before I was ready to let him go. "We're going to talk about that when I get back. Stay here," he said and got out of the truck before I could try to stop him.

While he cleared my house, I sat there for what felt like forever. I coaxed the dog into the front seat with me and wrapped my arms around him while I waited. I was debating on whether to break my promise and go inside when Byte finally appeared at the front door and motioned for me to come inside.

When I got out, the dog trailed behind me like a shadow. "Shadow," I said and looked at Byte. "His name is Shadow."

Byte nodded. "It suits him."

"I take it no one's in there."

"No, but someone was," he said and stopped me before I could go inside. "You need to brace yourself. It's pretty bad in there."

Pretty bad was an understatement. My house had been trashed. Every shelf had been cleared. Every cabinet had been emptied. Basically, everything I owned was on the floor. Even the contents of my refrigerator had been dumped on the floor.

After walking around the house with Byte and taking in the scene, we returned to the living room. I stood there, staring blankly at the floor. I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't think of any words to say. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't manage to do that either. I couldn't do anything.

"Gabby!" Byte shouted in a way that made me think he'd said my name more than once.

I lifted my head to meet his eyes but couldn't make myself speak. "It's going to be okay," he said.

I turned my gaze back to the floor and waited for him to tell me what to do. I couldn't think. I couldn't function. I needed him to take charge because I had completely checked out.