by Julie Benson
“Except for you, I don’t know anyone anymore, but they act like they know me. The old me.”
“I get it. People meant well with me too, but they didn’t think how what they said sounded. How their questions hurt. ‘How come a smart girl like you couldn’t do well in college? What’re you going to do with your life? What does your mother think about you dropping out?’ It got so bad I considered wearing a disguise.”
“I avoid town. ’Course, that approach has drawbacks. Mainly too much mother-daughter time.”
Aubrey’s gaze filled with understanding. “Everywhere I went, someone gave me advice.”
“People don’t do that with me, but Mom makes up for it. All other people see is my illness. They look at me like I’ll fall apart before their eyes. Then there’s the ever popular what am I going to do with my life question. That’s my favorite.”
Aubrey nodded. “People treated me like I was a failure and an embarrassment to my family.”
“How did you deal with it?”
“I smiled so much my cheeks grew numb, and I had go-to answers ready. That way I didn’t have to think about what to say.” Aubrey leaned forward and smiled. “It kept from taking someone’s head off a time or two.”
“How about this? If you think I want to discuss this, you’ve got a bigger brain tumor than I do.”
Aubrey chuckled. “While it’s effective, it could create new problems.”
“You’ve got a point, but hopefully I won’t be living here long. Once the doctor figures out how to control or eliminate my seizures, and insurance okays my return, I’m outta here.” Cheyenne chuckled. The nervous sound swirled around her. “The big trick is keeping Mom from driving me crazy. It’s bad enough she treats me like a teenager, but my seizures are taking over Sheridan’s life, too. Last Friday Mom made her miss the football game to babysit me. God forbid she leaves me alone for more than fifteen minutes and I have a seizure.”
“Sheridan told you that?”
“No, but why else would a high school senior stay home from a football game?”
“You should talk to your mom.”
“After her Chernobyl-size meltdown when she caught me saddling Riley, I’ve been afraid to.”
“I know I told you to assert yourself more because you’re over twenty-one, but couldn’t you start with a smaller, less volatile defiance?”
“The doctor said riding was fine if I wore a helmet and didn’t go faster than a calm walk. Of course, Mom doesn’t believe he said that.” Cheyenne sighed in frustration. “Her heart’s in the right place. She’s being overprotective because she loves me, but—”
Vicki delivered their food, cutting off the rest of Cheyenne’s comment. After telling them to holler if they needed anything, the waitress made a quick exit.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t encased you in Bubble Wrap,” Aubrey said between bites of fries.
“I hope she doesn’t think of it. I’d look like a clear Stay Puft marshmallow woman.” Cheyenne tossed the french fry back on her plate. “I can’t live like this.”
“You realize you don’t need her permission, don’t you?”
“I know, but if I move out and don’t reassure her fears, she’ll be camped on my front step.”
“She wouldn’t?” Aubrey asked.
Cheyenne tilted her head to the right and stared at her friend as if to say she asked the world’s dumbest question.
“Sorry. Of course, she would. Now that’s a nightmare come to life.” Aubrey shuddered in horror.
“I thought I’d found something to reassure her in an article at the doctor’s office.” Cheyenne explained what she’d read about service dogs. “They’re trained to keep a seizure patient from getting hurt. The article gave the example of a dog trained to lay under a woman’s head because her jerking motions during a seizure banged her head against the floor.”
“That could work. What’s the problem?”
“Every agency I checked said it takes from one to five years to get a dog.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I wish.” Cheyenne shook her head. “I have to get out on my own. What am I going to do?”
“You need someone with connections. Someone who can shortcut the process.”
Cheyenne lightly slapped her palm against her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll do a Google search for person with service dog connections willing to help a desperate single twenty-seven-year-old. If I add preferably male and single, maybe I could get a date, too.”
“You know how they say you can connect any actor to Kevin Bacon? That’s what we need to do. Find someone who knows someone. We just have to make the connections.”
Cheyenne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Bless Aubrey’s optimistic heart for trying to help, but what were the chances they could think of a friend, who had a friend, who blah, blah, blah, and led to someone with connections to a service dog agency who was willing to help?
A bright smile spilled across Aubrey’s face. “I know someone, and I’m positive he’ll help.”
“Don’t catfish me.”
“Did you meet Ty’s friend Cooper at the wedding?” Aubrey said referring to her older brother, a rancher in town. “He was a groomsman.”
“I wasn’t invited. Remember?”
Aubrey waved her hand through the air. “It doesn’t matter if you met. Cooper is one of Ty’s best friends, and that’s what’s important. That, and he’s a veterinarian. When I talked to him at the wedding, he mentioned he volunteers with a nonprofit involving dogs.”
This time Cheyenne did roll her eyes. “Involving dogs? What makes you think it has anything to do with service dogs?”
“Wait a minute. I’m replaying our conversation in my head to remember exactly what he said. He talked about his volunteer work and an app he’s developing.” Her friend closed her eyes, and her brows knit together in concentration. “I’m positive he mentioned service dogs. I’m just not sure if it was because of his app or his volunteer work.”
“Wow, that’s different,” Cheyenne teased, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I’m sorry I doubted you. That’s a solid lead, and I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to help me.”
Aubrey glared at her. “If you’re a smart-ass I won’t call Ty to get Cooper’s number. Remember, I said he’s a veterinarian. If I’m wrong about the service dog agency, there’s still a chance he’ll have helpful connections.”
A tiny flame of hope flickered inside Cheyenne, but she refused to fan it. Anyone could handle good news but hanging on after disappointments proved as tough as staying on a bull longer than eight seconds.
Wait a minute. Cooper had been one of the groomsmen? Cheyenne’s first night back waitressing at The Horseshoe she’d waited on the chief of police, two of his friends and a woman. Cheyenne had overheard something about them being in Cassie and Ty’s wedding party.
Talk about another stellar night. She’d spilled a pitcher of beer and nearly started a riot. What if Cooper was the one… No, she refused to consider the possibility. He couldn’t be. What were the odds that the dreamy cowboy who made her heart flutter when she’d taken his order was Cooper?
“I waited on some of Ty’s friends before the wedding. What’s Cooper look like?”
“He’s tall and slender, with blond-brown hair. He looks a lot like Harry Connick Jr. in Hope Floats, that movie with Sandra Bullock.”
Yup, that sounded like the man she met, but the thing she recalled most was his piercing blue eyes. His gaze saw straight into a girl’s soul as if he possessed x-ray vision.
Cheyenne groaned and rested her head on her arms. “No one has this kind of luck.”
“Don’t sit there groaning. Tell me what happened. It can’t have been that bad.”
Cheyenne straightened and looked her friend straight in the eyes. “Wanna bet?”
“You’re on. Loser pays for dinner.”
Cheyenne smiled, and people said there was no such thing as a free meal. “It
was my first night back waitressing. Lord, I’d forgotten how hard the job was and how many things there were to juggle. On top of that, the medication the doctor had me on made my brain foggy.”
She recapped the night’s events. She’d nearly worn a hole through her cowboy boots running between the game room and bar, and the minute she spotted a local college kid home for the weekend with two preppy friends she knew she was in for a rough time and no tip. They had spoiled smart-ass college frat boy looks and gave her the once-over when she took their drink order. The glint in their eyes said they’d be happy to give her a fun night, but come morning, they’d look down their preppy noses at a small-town country girl.
“Was that when AJ caught the kids with the fake IDs and the Langston’s forging documents?” Aubrey asked.
Cheyenne nodded.
“Then you definitely met Cooper because he was with AJ.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Do you think he’ll remember you?”
Cheyenne nodded. “Oh, he’ll remember me. Very few men forget a waitress who spills beer all over them.”
Chapter Two
“Are we talking a little splash?” Aubrey asked between giggles.
“I had three pitchers in my hands. I went to set one on Cooper’s table when a guy bumped me. Cooper didn’t get a beer bath, but darn close. I can still see the horror on his face.”
“It could’ve been worse if it had been margarita night. That stuff’s sticky.”
Cheyenne chuckled. Maybe it was true that there was always a bright side. “Cooper was sweet about it, but the guy who bumped into me threw a fit because his fancy alligator boots got splashed.”
Threw a fit didn’t begin to describe his reaction. Recalling the wild fury in the kid’s eyes sent a shiver of fear through Cheyenne again. He’d charged forward, but Cooper had stepped in front of her, an unmovable barrier between her and the aggressor. Then in a ridiculous bout of wounded pride, instead of thanking Cooper, she’d informed him she could take care of herself.
I’m sure you can, but this idiot’s drunk, pissed as hell, and outweighs you by a hundred pounds. Stay put. Cooper’s response, delivered in a calm, no-nonsense drawl along with amusement in his ocean-blue eyes had left her oddly comforted and wondering how it would feel to have a man like him in her life.
The click of Aubrey typing on her phone, drew Cheyenne’s attention. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m giving Ty a rundown of your situation—”
“If he doesn’t know it, he’s the only one in town and needs to get out more.”
“And I’m asking him about Cooper.”
“Hold on.”
Aubrey tapped her phone and grinned. “Too late. I hit send. Plus, what do you have to lose?”
“Nothing except what little dignity I have left.”
A minute later Aubrey’s phone pinged. “Ty says the organization Cooper volunteers with is Patriot Paws, and it trains service dogs.”
Cheyenne’s tiny flame of hope flickered brighter. “One thing I learned on the internet is service dog agencies specialize—veterans, autistic children, diabetics. Patriot Paws sounds like it works with veterans.”
“So? If his agency can’t help you, ask Cooper to recommend one that can.” Aubrey typed another text and hit send. “I just asked for his number.”
“Gee, thanks for making these decisions for me.”
“Anytime. What are friends for?”
“Apparently, you missed my sarcasm.”
“I recognized it. I simply ignored it.”
Cheyenne laughed. “I should’ve known.”
When Aubrey’s phone pinged again, after reading the message she said, “Ty says if you call Cooper tell him Ty gave you his info.”
Knowing Aubrey wouldn’t let go of the issue, Cheyenne admitted defeat and said, “Text me his number, and I’ll call him.”
Some time.
Aubrey shook her head. “I know that look. Between spilling beer on him and how you hate asking for favors, you won’t call. You’re only asking for his info to get me to drop the subject.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll contact him.” And I will, but it might be in the far distant future.
Aubrey eyed her with a critical-best-friend-all-knowing stare. “Sure. I’ll buy that and the magic beans in your pocket. Oh, I have a brainstorm. Road trip. Cooper lives in College Station. That’s only a little over two hours away.”
“Hold the horses.” Aubrey’s suggestion made Cheyenne’s head spin. “I don’t know. Mom went crazy when I said I was going out. She’ll have a full-blown panic attack if I say I’m road tripping to College Station.”
“Then don’t tell her,” Aubrey said, echoing the little voice whispering in Cheyenne’s ear.
You’re an adult, and don’t need your mother’s permission. The smart decision is if you tell her about the trip, do it when you return.
“Wait a minute. You asked Ty for Cooper’s number. We can’t go. We don’t know where he lives other than he’s in College Station.”
A huge grin spread across Aubrey’s face as she waved her phone. “Ty forwarded his contact information. That means we have all of Cooper’s information—cell, work number, email and home address. Ain’t technology grand?”
“Okay, so we have his address. That doesn’t mean showing up at his door is a good idea.”
You really have changed. Where’s your adventurous spirit? Before your diagnosis you’d already be in the car by now.
Anger kicked in, hot and heavy flooding Cheyenne’s system. The first step to regaining her life was to actually take charge of it, starting with setting boundaries with her mom. She would put their relationship back on adult level. She would move out, but she preferred the process to be as drama free as possible. That meant easing her mother’s fears. Getting a service dog was her best chance of that, and Cooper was her best shot of achieving that goal.
“When can you leave?” Cheyenne asked.
“I’m ready if you are.”
So much for resisting peer pressure.
*
After the rest of the Aggie Animal Hospital staff left, Cooper sat at his desk catching up on paperwork when his phone rang with a call from Kelli, Aggieland Humane Society’s Animal Placement Coordinator. “I’ve got a three-year-old shepherd, Penny Lane, I’m concerned about. She’s going downhill fast.”
“Tell me about her.”
“We don’t know how long she sat beside her dead owner before a neighbor asked authorities to do a well check. Unfortunately, the neighbor couldn’t keep Penny and put her in a boarding facility. When the owner’s son arrived to settle his mother’s affairs, he brought Penny straight to us.”
“Great guy.”
Stories like Penny’s all too familiar one tugged at Cooper’s heart. An owner died, and when friends or family couldn’t or wouldn’t take the pet, the animal went from a loving household to the shelter’s chaos.
“The son didn’t even know his mother had a dog and looked at us like we should be thankful he brought her inside because he could’ve dumped her in a field.”
Rowdy, Cooper’s rescued Heinz-57, tan, black, and white dog hadn’t been as lucky. He and his litter mates had been shoved into a box, which was taped shut and thrown in a dumpster behind The Dixie Chicken. If an employee on a smoke break hadn’t heard the pups crying, they’d have died from heat exhaustion, dehydration or worse.
“When Penny arrived, we had to carry her outside, and then she cowered and whimpered until we took her back in. Now she’s quit eating. You know what that means.”
With her owner, the anchor in her life gone, unless something changed, Penny’s case would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because of fear or depression, she’d hide in the back of her kennel. People would walk past her to more outgoing dogs. Those would be the lucky ones brought to meeting rooms to turn on the charm and find forever homes. But not Penny. Being withdrawn, she’d remain in her kennel, sinking f
urther into herself, as her time slipped away or her health declined.
“I need her out now, and since you’re currently without fosters, I started with you. Plus, you and Rowdy would do wonders for Penny,” Kelli said.
“If I weren’t moving, I’d gladly take her.”
“Moving? Where? When? How did I miss that news?”
After he explained about his opportunity to take over the practice in Wishing, Kelli said,
“She won’t make it here.” Kelli paused. “I’m making an exception. Because you’re a vet, we won’t worry about medical needs. Plus, Wishing’s only a couple hours away. You and Rowdy can work your magic on Penny, and when she’s ready for adoption you can bring her back. Or, maybe you’ll find an adopter in Wishing.”
“Then sure, I’ll foster her. I’m at the clinic, but I can be there in a few.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cooper knelt inside the kennel and stared at Penny Lane curled into a tight ball in the far corner. His hands tensed around the leash he held, but other than that he remained still, giving her time to adjust to his presence. Most dogs would be all over him by now. Jumping, barking, begging for attention, but not this girl. She’d already given up.
“Hello, Penny. I hear you’re having a rough time.”
The dog’s eyes opened, but she remained motionless. The trauma and loss she’d endured shone in her wide brown eyes.
He inched closer, watching for signs of aggression, but she’d pulled so far inward, she barely acknowledged him. She just plain didn’t care. He continued working closer. “Don’t give up, sweetheart. I know you’re missing your human, but there’s someone else out there for you. Someone who’ll love you, and wants, maybe needs you, too.”
Penny lifted her head the tiniest bit to stare at him. The look in her warm brown eyes was different than it had been a minute earlier, more haunted now, but with something else.
She thinks you’re a hypocrite. You talk the talk but aren’t big on walking that walk yourself.
Cooper shut out the mocking voice. “I’ve lost someone, too. I know it hurts like hell, but you can’t give up. She wouldn’t want you to.”
