Running Wild: A novel

by K. A. Tucker

  I knew all this, and still I let myself fall for him.

  I’m halfway through the barn before I remember why I came here. As much as I want to head straight for my truck and drive off, I veer toward the birthing room, gritting my teeth to keep my tears at bay.

  When I emerge, Tyler and the dogs are long gone, and the kennel is quiet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Okay, so … what do you think about this?” Calla pauses for dramatic effect before spinning her laptop around on the clinic’s counter, revealing a home page of earthy greens and golden yellows against a white birch-patterned background, with bold buttons and scrolling pictures and tabs that shift to pages full of information—the clinic’s history, my credentials, our services. Content that was sparse on the old site is now paragraphs long.

  I blink in disbelief. “How did you do all this?” And so fast.

  “I’ve been doing this sort of thing for years.” She shrugs. “I’ve gotten good at it.”

  “Yes, but …” I scroll through pictures of myself at eight years old, wearing my father’s stethoscope and attempting to check a puppy’s heartbeat as it gnawed on my fingers. I flip through the tabs, stalling on the one that details the clinic’s history in the valley, and smile at the pictures of my father in his white coat, standing outside the clinic’s front doors the day it opened for the first time. My mother is next to him, her belly swollen with me. “Where did you get these?”

  “Cory. She went through some of your parents’ old albums.”

  The only “albums” my mom has are a dozen shoeboxes tucked away in the back of their closet, with no rhyme or reason for how pictures are sorted.

  “That girl is too good for me.” As is Calla. I was doing inventory when she messaged to see if she could swing by. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t this.

  “That summer when I came to visit my dad, I tried to help him with Alaska Wild by building a website for him. You know, because that would’ve fixed all his problems.” She chuckles softly to herself. “The whole thing turned out to be pointless, but I did learn about my grandparents and their lives while running it, and my dad’s life. There was a lot of family history there. Like this place.” Her curious gaze drifts around the lobby. “I thought it might be helpful for people to see that. It’s what a lot of the other clinics around here don’t have.”

  I sink into my desk chair. The effort, the personal detail, even the nature-inspired design.

  It’s as if Calla knows me.

  Or is trying to get to know me.

  “This is amazing. Honestly. Thank you.”

  Her smile is genuine. “I need to make a few more tweaks to header sizes and then I can transfer it over. Which leads to my next thing …” She holds up a finger and then darts out the front door to her Jeep. Thirty seconds later, she’s rushing in with a large roll tucked under her arm.

  To anyone who doesn’t know Calla, there’s still no visible evidence to hint at the human growing inside her. But I can see how her athletic body is already changing—a thickening midsection, her swelling breasts. “I saw this at the store and thought of you. It’s actually what gave me the idea for the site design.” She stretches the wallpaper out to show me the black-and-white illustrated birch trees. “This would make a great accent wall, don’t you think?”

  I groan.

  “It’s just wallpaper!” She bites her bottom lip. “And maybe some new chairs?”

  I laugh, even as I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m dealing with someone who could live off the interest she’s earning on her inheritance from Wren. The real world has slipped through her grasp. “I lost my biggest kennel, and yeah, we’ve been getting some new business, but it won’t make up for it.” Especially once race season kicks off. I hesitate. “And I think I might have lost another important kennel.”

  Calla frowns. “Why?”

  “Because I broke my rule about dating clients.” Not that Tyler and I were even dating. We were a complicated string of encounters that somehow culminated in a reckless night that had me heading to the pharmacy for emergency contraception.

  A pill that I stared at for hours that night but didn’t take.

  And in the following days and weeks, I convinced myself that this all happened for a reason.

  It’s all moot now. My period arrived yesterday morning, like clockwork. And along with the surge of relief came far more disappointment than I’d expected.

  I could have done it on my own. I would have. It would have been the one good thing that came out of that mistake.

  She nods with understanding. “That Tyler guy.”

  I swallow against the prickle in my throat. “He said he doesn’t know how to love two women. Whatever that means.”

  Cory emailed the bill for Nala’s checkup and Tyler promptly paid it, but I haven’t heard from him since. The puppies will need deworming soon. If he’s found a new veterinarian, he hasn’t informed me yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he simply stops calling us.

  If I could afford to drop Tyler as a client and simplify both our lives, I would. But I’ve crunched the numbers, and losing that income isn’t an option if I can help it. So I go about my days while pretending nothing ever happened between us.

  Calla’s brow furrows as she searches for the right answer to a problem she doesn’t fully understand. She gets all her Marie-related gossip secondhand through Jonah, but I haven’t given him the more explicit details, or how far down this gorge I’ve tumbled. Despite everything, I don’t want him hating Tyler.

  I don’t hate Tyler. I won’t make excuses for how he hurt me, but my heart does ache for him, for how he still struggles. Maybe that’s foolish. But I let things move too fast and go too far with him, blinded in my attempt to catch what I was beginning to think was a fable.

  For just one day, everything that I wanted seemed to be aligning.

  For just one day, I truly believed I could have it all.

  And yet, there’s also that voice in my head, a jaded voice that whispers what I don’t want to hear—that a woman will come along, and Tyler will make room for her in his heart, that it’s me—I’m just not meant for Tyler. Just as I wasn’t meant for Jonah.

  All these years, all these mistakes I keep making, and I haven’t learned a damn thing.

  “It’s okay. I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.” I offer Calla a smile that is wide and fake. Surely, she doesn’t buy it. We’ve done the whole forced pleasantries song and dance before, so we know when the other is being genuine. At least this time, our phoniness isn’t directed at each other.

  “Well …” She taps her painted fingernails on my counter. “It will cost almost nothing to freshen up this place.”

  “Calla,” I groan.

  She continues, rushing her words. “Agnes loves to paint, and I’ll get everything from the thrift shop. In fact, I’ve already found the perfect frames for all your degrees. I’m going to spray-paint them gold to match the yellow on the website. Come on, let me do this. Please. Your clients will appreciate the change, and I think you need a change. And I need to keep myself busy. You know how summers are. Jonah’s out flying every day. And when he’s not, he’s driving me insane about the baby. This will be fun for me. I need it. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  Her pleas are wearing me down if for no other reason than to serve as a suitable distraction. “It would have to be super cheap. I’m talking a few hundred bucks max.”

  “It will be. I swear. This?” She gestures at the wallpaper. “This was free.”

  I snort. “It was not free—”

  “It was! They gave it to me.”

  “They did not just give—”

  “Fine. I stole it.”

  She says it so deadpan, I almost believe her. My cackle of laughter echoes through the clinic.

  * * *

  I scrub the stench of latex off my hands and dry them with a paper towel before tossing it in the trash next to the surgical gloves. I’ve alway
s hated that smell. “Holler at me when she wakes.” Cory answers with a thumbs-up, her attention on the monitor for freshly spayed Mrs. Whiskers.

  I smooth my palm over the never-ending ache in my neck as I push through the door and head into the lobby, where my mother sits behind the desk, Molly on her knee.

  “… we’ll see you next week. Okay, then. Okay …” Mom is attempting to end the call while angling her head and glasses away from Molly’s grasping hands. She sets the receiver on the base just as Molly shrieks with frustration. “You can’t have those! You can’t!” Mom laughs and collects her granddaughter’s hands in hers and pretends to nibble on her stubby fingers.

  I smile as I watch the two of them. “You okay out here?” Vicki’s at school today, and my parents have split babysitting duty. Mom’s on watch now so my father can have his afternoon nap.

  She sets her glasses on the desk. Without them on, the wrinkles around her eyes are far more noticeable. “I don’t know how I did this job while chasing you and Liz around here all those years ago. I suppose I am almost forty years older.”

  Forty years older, with arthritis working its way through her joints and a slight hunch in her back. Sometimes I worry that we’re asking too much of her, even putting in just a few hours a day behind the desk. “Have you heard from Mrs. Perkins?”

  “Yes! Just now. The puppies were born, and she wants to bring them in for a checkup.”

  “How’s she handling it?”

  “Okay, I think. All three lived. She’s got some help from her neighbor’s kids, and Bob in his wig”—she snickers—“but she’s already asking how soon we can find homes for them, so take that for what it’s worth. Now, who else, let me see …” She slides her glasses back on.

  Molly dives for them again.

  “Come here you.” I collect my niece off Mom’s lap and tuck her against my side, flashing her an exaggerated smile that earns one in return. She’s warm and soft and smells of a freshly changed diaper and the rice crackers she’s been gnawing on. Drool trickles over her bottom lip to collect on her bib. “Here, what’s this?” I press the end of my stethoscope against her chest, drawing her attention to it for the moment.

  Mom reads through her handwritten notes that she’ll transfer to the computer—it’s faster this way, she insists. They’re mostly old clients with new puppies, which is always exciting for me. Nothing critical. No euthanasia.

  She slides off her glasses to look at me, her expression tempered with concern. “Tyler called.”

  My chest tightens. “And?” I brace for the inevitable.

  “The puppies need deworming, Airi might have sprained his hind leg, and”—she squints at her sheet—“Pope got into a fight with Sleet. He needs a few stitches.”

  “Oh.” I guess I’m still his veterinarian after all. A surge of emotions erupts—dread, longing, annoyance.

  Mom’s brow furrows. She was the first to figure out something wasn’t right. I gave her the standard “we’re just friends” line that I’ve given everyone, though we’re not even that anymore, and went about my day. Thankfully, Mom has never been one to push too hard for information. But I’ve also been conveniently busy with “emergencies” over the last two Sunday dinners, knowing that a single wrong word from Jim or Liz might break me.

  “Honey, I don’t know what happened between you two, but—”

  “Did you book the appointment?” I pull the end of my stethoscope away from Molly’s mouth just before she has a chance to soothe her sore gums on it.

  “I said I’d have to check with you first, but that you might be able to come out tonight, if it wasn’t an emergency, and he said that would be fine.”

  “Okay. Confirm with him. Thank you.” I shift my focus to the baby in my arms, seeking comfort in her innocence for another moment, before shuttling her to my mother and getting back to work.

  * * *

  Tyler’s truck is absent when I pull up to his place.

  It’s both a relief and a frustration. I don’t have to swallow my feelings and put up a front for the sake of professionalism, but at the same time, part of me aches for a confrontation.

  Nymeria and Tank trot out of the barn to meet me. Reed appears moments later, dragging his boots in his typical lazy walk, poly rope dangling from his hand.

  I smile despite my unfriendly mood. “You have Nymeria in a harness.”

  “Yeah. Ty said to try her out.” He pushes his hair to the side with his free hand. “I’ve been doing some training with her. She’s takin’ to it.”

  “How are the pups?”

  “Bigger.” He nods toward a paddock. “I got Pope in there.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “This morning. He’s walkin’ fine and I cleaned him up, but his leg looks pretty bad.” He shakes his head. “I turned around for one minute and the dumb dog wandered over. He knows better than to mess with Sleet. Lucky it didn’t end up worse.”

  “We’ll get him fixed up.” Hopefully without needing to bring him to the clinic.

  “Yeah.” But Reed worries his bottom lip. I’ll bet he hates that this happened on his watch. Tyler did say he takes his role here seriously.

  “You know, I’ve met a lot of handlers over the years, but I’ve never met one as good as you.” I keep my focus ahead as Reed walks alongside me deeper into the barn, but from the corner of my eye, I catch his grin of satisfaction.

  “Ty’s still at work, but he said to do whatever you think Sleet needs.”

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  “How is Tyler doing?” How much does Reed know about what happened?

  He shrugs. “Lookin’ forward to the racing season.”

  “Right.” It is what he lives for, after all. “Come on, let’s fix those dogs.”

  * * *

  I’m halfway down the driveway when I spot the truck approaching from the other direction.

  The tension in my body intensifies as the distance closes and Tyler’s handsome face comes into focus. The lane is too narrow to pass one another like strangers on the road. We’ll each have to maneuver along the edges to squeeze by. And because I’m an adult and here on business, I open my window.

  Both trucks crawl to a stop, our doors aligning perfectly, our side-view mirrors inches from colliding. I note how Tyler’s chest rises with a deep inhale, as if he’s preparing himself for an uncomfortable conversation.

  I let my eyes touch his for a brief second before I have to look away, the pain too raw. “I’m pretty sure Airi just has a mild sprain. I left some anti-inflammatories. If it doesn’t get better within the week, you’ll need to bring him in for an X-ray.” In my attempt to sound professional, I end up sounding robotic. “I stitched up a jagged tear on Pope’s leg. The rest just needs to be kept clean and monitored for any abscess. I’ve left antibiotics and painkillers, and Reed knows what he’s doing.” The benefit of having a living spreadsheet of information on every dog—I knew how to mix the prescriptions ahead of time.

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” I hate that mixed in with my swirl of disappointment, hurt, and anger is foolish yearning. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I know better. “Cory will send you the bill tomorrow morning.”

  “Marie—”

  “I’m not pregnant,” I blurt out. “In case you were wondering.” With that, I lift my foot off the brake and begin rolling forward.

  “Wait, Marie. Please.”

  The pleading quality in his tone slips past my defenses, softening a heart I’ve never learned how to harden. I hesitate for two seconds before I let my foot fall on the brake.

  A high-pitched squeak sounds as Tyler backs up his truck until our windows are aligned again. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you already told me that.” My anger is solidifying in my throat, forming a prickly lump.

  “Can you at least look at me?”

  After a beat, I meet his
eyes, and the golden pools that shine with regret make my chest ache.

  “I swear, this is the last thing I was looking for when I moved here. But then I kept running into you, and I couldn’t get you out of my head. I still can’t.”

  A twinge of satisfaction stirs inside me, knowing I’m not the only one struggling.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything for another woman. Definitely not so soon.” His voice bleeds with sincerity. “That night at your place? I wanted to give you everything you want.”

  “I don’t want a sperm donor, Tyler.”

  He flinches. “Come on, Marie, you were there. That’s not what that was.”

  A single tear slips down my cheek as countless intimate touches and sighs and cries flitter inside my head. “I don’t know what it was anymore. Besides a huge mistake.” Born from desperation and desire, on both our parts.

  He smooths a hand over his bristly face. “If I’d met you ten years ago …”

  Before he met his wife is what he’s saying.

  But would I have been enough, even then? This is what happens when someone hurts you—you begin to doubt everything they say.

  His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I have a lot of things to work through still, and it’s not fair to you if I can’t be all in. I see that now, and I understand if you don’t want to wait around for that day.”

  How long will it take for Tyler to make enough room in his heart for someone else to stay?

  It could be years.

  It could be never.

  It could be tomorrow, with someone who isn’t me.

  And I know myself too well.

  I take a deep breath, knowing what I have to do. “Call Don Childs. He might not be as flexible as I am, but he’s good—”

  “No, Marie.” Tyler’s face twists with unhappiness. “I still want you as my vet.”

  “It’s not going to work.” I can’t go down this road again. “And this friendship of yours, Tyler? I don’t want it, either.” This time when I take my foot off the brake, he doesn’t call after me.