23. Bobby

23

Bobby

Zane

It takes me a second to register what the masseuse just said.

I shift my position and bolt upright. “A call for me? Where?”

Ivy’s sitting up too, covering herself with her towel. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, jumping off the table. “I’ll be right back.”

My heart pounds harder with every step. Who could be calling me? It must be important if they chased me down to Winter Heights’ most luxurious hotel.

The spa assistant hands me a phone that’s tucked away in a little office, then steps back through the door, closing it behind her.

“This is Zane.”

“Zane!” Daisy’s panicked voice comes through, and all the blood drains from my face. “It’s Bobby. He’s vomiting and drooling. He doesn’t want to move. Something’s wrong.”

Adrenaline shoots through my system, and my heart stutters. “I’m on my way.”

When I exit the room, Ivy’s there, waiting for me. She’s wearing her bathrobe, a concerned look on her face. “Zane. What is it?”

“It’s Bobby. He’s sick. I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I have to go. Sorry.”

“I’m coming with you,” she says, falling into step beside me, and my heart skips another beat.

“You don’t have to. You shou—”

“I’m coming.” Her tone is firm, and the way she looks at me tells me there’s no room for debate.

We change back into our clothes at lightspeed before practically sprinting to the farm. Dammit. Thousands of scenarios flash through my mind as we jog up the hill. I should have been more careful. He probably ate something he shouldn’t have. He’s always sneaking out and chewing on stuff. I found a few piles of vomit this week, but I thought it was nothing. The dogs often vomit because they eat too much or too fast. It’s not that out of the ordinary. And anyway, there’s no way to know who did it unless you catch them in the act.

Finally, my farm comes into view, and I barge into the barn. Seth and Daisy are kneeling next to Bobby, who’s lying on his side, panting. He lifts his head when he sees me, then lays it back down, wailing.

The sound shatters my heart into a thousand pieces.

I drop to my knees, petting his head. “Boy, what’s going on?” I examine his teeth and his tongue, which seems a little swollen.

“I’m taking him to Luke,” I say once I finish my assessment. We need to run more tests. “Did you get a sample of his vomit or feces? Luke might need that to figure out what’s going on. I’ll get the car.”

“I’ve got it,” Seth says, handing me a plastic bag.

Daisy takes it first. “I’m coming with you.”

I glance at Ivy, who’s standing behind me with a worried expression. “No need. Ivy’s coming.”

“I am,” she agrees, holding her hand out for the bag .

“Call Luke, and tell him we’re on our way,” I instruct Seth, who runs back to the house.

After bringing the car around and hauling Bobby into it, we rush to the vet, which is about thirty minutes down the mountain pass. I try not to think of everything that can go wrong in that timeframe, instead focusing on the road, traveling just a notch over the speed limit.

“He’s going to be okay,” Ivy says, still holding Bobby’s vomit bag as she contorts herself to pat him in the back seat. He wails again, and my entire body constricts.

I grip the wheel harder, but I’m unable to form a reply. I’ve never lost a dog. Some have been injured, but it was always minor. I’m very cautious about their health. Bruce created a health schedule, and I’ve been following it scrupulously. Though not closely enough, apparently.

Finally, we pull up in front of the vet clinic. I jump out of the car. The front door swings open, and Luke’s large figure appears with a stretcher.

“How is he?” Luke asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No change. I’ve been racking my brain, but the only plausible explanation is some kind of bacteria. You know how he loves to chew random stuff.”

Ivy gives Luke a small wave, and he nods to her. Then, the three of us hoist Bobby out of the car and onto the stretcher .

Once inside, Luke asks me a battery of questions about Bobby’s habits lately, and he examines him thoroughly before drawing his blood. He asks his assistant to take the sample to the lab immediately.

“I don’t think it’s a bacteria or a bacteria-induced disease. You said he’s been eating a lot lately and that he’s vomited a couple of times this week already.”

“Yeah. In retrospect, I think it was all him. You know how it is. We can never be sure.” I pat Bobby’s head. “I should have taken him in sooner.”

Ivy rubs my back to comfort me.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, Zane. Just trying to figure things out. If pet owners took their pets to the clinic every time they vomited, they’d be popping in every week.”

Especially with Bobby, who likes to eat whatever he can find and then throw it up. Or half my dogs, for that matter. But still.

He makes Bobby swallow a charcoal tablet and palpates his abdomen at different places. As he does, Bobby’s wails fill the room. He even tries to climb off the table despite his weakened state.

“It could be IBD. That’s pretty common in Siberian huskies.”

“Inflammatory bowel disease?” Ivy asks, frowning. “I didn’t know dogs could have it. ”

Luke cocks his head. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nurse.”

“Ah,” he says, glancing between the two of us. “Well yes, they can. Especially huskies. It’s a common immune disorder that affects the breed.”

“Dammit,” I hiss, walking away and raking a hand through my hair. “What does that mean? What do we do?” I’ve been extremely lucky that none of my dogs have had it until now.

“I can do an exploratory surgery to see if I’m right. Or I could give him more charcoal in case it’s some kind of intoxication, and we can wait a few hours for his results to come in.”

“Let’s just do the surgery,” I say, not wanting to lose any time. I don’t care how much it costs. “I want to know now so we can figure out how to help him.”

“Okay. After the surgery, I’ll still need to send the sample to the lab, but Kathryn will get me the results in a few hours. I’ll go prep now.”

“Whoa. That’s fast! And at this hour,” Ivy marvels once he leaves the room.

I pet Bobby’s head again. “Kathryn’s his sister.”

“Ah, that explains it. Good,” she says, joining me in petting him. “IBD is not that bad. Not ideal by any means, but it’s manageable. Usually, a new diet and some medication help with the symptoms.”

When I raise my head, she’s still petting Bobby with love. That’s when it hits me just how lucky I am to have her in this situation. She’s on vacation, yet she dropped everything to come here with me, held a bag full of dog vomit, and now, she’s stroking Bobby and trying to make me feel better. She’s truly an angel, dropped right from heaven. Or brought here by fate.

“Thank you,” I say, struggling to get the words out, “for being here. You didn’t have to come.”

“Of course I did. I’m your friend.” A warm smile spreads on her lips, bringing with it a hint of comfort. “And besides, I’m a nurse. It’s what I do.”

Friends . That word sends both a tingle of joy to my stomach and a slap to my face. But in the end, that’s what she is. A friend who’s here on vacation, healing the wound her stupid ex-fiancé inflicted. “I know, but still. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Plus, Bobby’s been my favorite since day one,” she says with a chuckle.

A smile pulls at my lips. “Oh yeah, I remember. His tongue was all over your face.”

“What can I say?” She shrugs. “We have a thing.”

The fact that I’m even smiling at a moment like this shows how big of an impact Ivy has on me. I’m definitely starting to think we have a thing. But I don’t mind sharing some of that Ivy magic with Bobby. He needs it right now.