Undeniable (Always Book 3)

by Lexxie Couper

  Fuck.

  I’d deal with Donald later. After this. Right now, all I knew was that a dog I barely knew, a dog that had been rejected, was dying and alone.

  Alone and in pain.

  Jesus.

  Ramming my cell into my pocket, I smiled a wavery smile at Dr. Adams. He touched my shoulder, his answering smile sad, and walked us out the back. Little Miss Regrowth tracked my path the whole way, curiosity on her face.

  The stench of animal faces assaulted me the second we passed through the door to the back section. I tried not to gag but failed. The smell in an animal hospital is seriously worse than the smell in a pet shop, trust me. Maybe it has something to do with all the drugs and medication the animals are on.

  As I crossed to Doofus’s open cage, he rolled his dark liquid-brown eyes at me and thumped his tail.

  “Hey boy,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

  Doofus thumped his tail again. That was his only movement.

  “What happened?” I asked, feathering my palm over his side as I looked at Dr. Adams. “I thought he was recovering? Yesterday he was so good.”

  “Doofus became dehydrated and seemed weak and uninterested in food or water. Not a good sign,” he said. “Unfortunately, we think he’s suffering from a post-op infection. The vet on duty last night, Dr. Simmons, administered intravenous antibiotics, but so far Doofus is not responding the way he should. Sometimes this happens to big dogs when they try to move. Unfortunately, because Doofus doesn’t have a properly formed back leg his weight redistribution has caused uneven movement.”

  “So he’s dying because he’s defective?” The question coated my mouth in bile.

  Of course, that wasn’t the case. Doofus was dying because he sustained massive injuries from being hit by a car. But my brain didn’t want to let me see that. My brain wanted me to see a dog who was getting kicked by life over and over because he was like me – not functioning properly.

  Dr. Adams’s chest rose and fell with a sigh I didn’t hear. Pity filled his eyes as his focus flicked to my ears, just for a second. “No, Chase,” he said. “He’s not dying because he’s defective. And as long as he can start responding to the antibiotics, there’s a very good chance he’s not dying, period. We have to wait and see. And pray.”

  I scrunched up my face and turned back to Doofus. Pray. Huh. Praying had done sweet F A for me when I was a little girl, begging God to make my ears work so my daddy wouldn’t be so disappointed with me. Praying had done even less when I’d tried once again to beg Him to take Tanner’s leukemia away.

  Yeah, praying wasn’t an option.

  Stroking Doofus’s side, I bit at the inside of my lip and blinked at my tears. Life is a fucking big pile of poo sometimes.

  In my back pocket, my cell pinged again. Doofus pricked his ears. Not a lot, but a little. His eyes rolled toward me again, and once more his tail moved slightly.

  Until that point in time I didn’t think it possible to miss someone like I missed Caden. I wanted him there so much. I needed him there. To comfort the dog he’d saved, to say goodbye to him. To hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. I needed more than anything to press my cheek to his chest and feel the words vibrating against my ear.

  Why hadn’t I woken him? Why was I doing this alone?

  My phone pinged again. Doofus’s ears pricked as before, and then he closed his eyes.

  My heart stopped. “Doofus?” I whispered.

  He opened his eyes. I wasn’t an animal expert like Caden, but I could tell they weren’t working properly.

  “What are his chances if he doesn’t start responding?” I asked, without looking at Dr. Adams.

  If he answered, I didn’t hear him. At times being Hard of Hearing is a blessing. Instead, I felt his answer in a warm hand on my arm. And then I felt it in the way he walked away and left me alone.

  Life is fucking horrible. I pressed my forehead to Doofus’s and closed my eyes. I’m not sure how long I stayed there for. Long enough for the tears leaking from my eyes to dry to taut tracks of salt on my cheeks. Long enough for me to decide I hated the world. It sucked. The world laughed at any attempts we made to exist in it without pain. Just when we thought we had the world figured out, what our job was in it, it ripped that misguided knowledge away from us.

  When I finally lifted my head, Doofus licked my fingers and wagged his tail slightly. I wished he hadn’t. It only made my heart hurt more.

  “We could have been so awesome together,” I whispered.

  He licked my fingers again. I couldn’t help but notice how dry his tongue was. I wished Caden was here to tell me what that meant.

  I turned and walked away from Doofus. I had to. I couldn’t stay there any longer. Back in the waiting room my cell vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. There was no one I wanted to talk to at the moment.

  Okay, that was bullshit. I wanted to talk to Caden. I fixed my burning eyes on the brunette strip of hair belonging to Little Miss Regrowth and tapped my fingers on the smooth surface of the counter.

  She jerked her head up, discomfort and trepidation on her face. “Yes?” she shouted.

  The urge to shake her crashed through me. Thankfully, I ignored that as effectively as I ignored my buzzing phone. “Can you please let Dr. Adams know I’ve left?”

  “Sure,” she continued to shout. “Is the dog dead?”

  I studied her, then leaned a little closer toward her. “What do you want to do with your life?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Because whatever it is,” I continued, “make sure you don’t have to interact with people. Because you suck at it.”

  Not waiting for her response, I turned and left.

  The morning sun lashed at me as I crossed the parking lot, bouncing off the Speeding Dragon’s windshield in blinding shards. I winced and squinted. Great. There went another one of my working senses.

  I shoved my hand into my bag to retrieve my sunglasses when my cell started vibrating in my pocket once more. Pulling my hand out of my bag, I dug out my phone and rammed it to my ear. “Stop calling me,” I snarled.

  “It’s tricky for me to make you forgive me,” Donald’s smoke-and-whiskey voice rumbled in my ear, “if you don’t come to see me when you promise.”

  I froze, my heart pounding in my chest like a goddamn cannon. And then I let out a hitching whimper when a taxi drew to a halt directly in front of me and Caden climbed from the back seat.

  Caden

  I hadn’t gotten a US SIM card for my phone yet. I’d intended to get one at LAX but when I’d found Chase with Donald the Dude that plan had gotten lost in my head. Then I’d planned to get one soon as we arrived in San Diego, but Doofus had entered our life and once again, I’d forgotten all about it.

  Fortunately I’ve got an iPhone, which means as long as I’ve got a Wi-Fi connection I can text and FaceTime for free to other iPhone users. Thank you, Steve Jobs. That meant Mum and Dad back in Australia could chat to me as often as they liked while I was over here.

  On the assumption my phone was charged, of course. Which it wasn’t. It had been over forty-eight hours since I touched down and the thought of charging my phone hadn’t crossed my mind. Thank God I’d asked Brendon to let Mum and Dad know I’d arrived and was A-OK.

  So when I woke up to find Chase AWOL I did more than kick myself that I’d yet to plug my phone into a power point. I’m not going to tell you what I said. Probably better you hang onto the idea I’m a civilized person in crisis for a while longer. Nor do you want to hear what I said as I upended my bag, searching for the universal adaptor I’d brought with me from Australia.

  I set my phone to charge and then stomped around the motel room for a bit, frowning at everything. Discovering I had no way of contacting Chase directly was frustrating. Especially after yesterday. It didn’t occur to me to use the landline in the motel room. I’m going to blame being half asleep and flustered beyond all logical thought.

  It took me longer than i
t should have to find the message from her on the notepad. The penny dropped a second after my brain processed the bad news about Doofus: Chase must have gone to the animal hospital.

  How do I know this?

  A little backstory about my past experience with Chase, if I may.

  The day after my bone marrow had been transplanted into Tanner, I had a reaction to the general anesthesia. Classified as severe hypothermia, I had chills and was shivering so badly my body began to shut down. Scared the crap out of me.

  Suffice to say, when I began to lose feeling in my extremities and couldn’t breathe properly, I was rushed to the ER. By the time I arrived, I was convulsing violently. When all this happened, Chase was at work at the pet shop. I’m not sure why, but Amanda sent her a text telling her I was on the way to hospital. At this point in our relationship, Chase had rarely acknowledged my existence with anything other than the odd grunt, rolled eyes and sarcastic snipes about my beard.

  Apparently the second she got the text, she bolted from the pet shop – mid interaction with a customer who was, according to Brendon, buying a sulphur-crested cockatoo for $450 dollars, a bird so common in Australia it’s considered a pest.

  I regained consciousness in the hospital with a burning throat and a gnawing hunger, to find a scowling Chase sitting beside my bed. She denies it, but Amanda tells me she sat there the entire time I was out of it, complaining about how goddamn inconsiderate I was and how she’d lost a sweet commission on a sale.

  When I came to, she grunted at me, told me I needed a haircut and left. I didn’t see her for the rest of the time I was in hospital.

  That’s Chase. She’s impulsive. She springs into action the second her gut tells her to. Her heart is massive no matter how much she tries to convince people otherwise.

  The second I read the word vet written on the notepad, I knew exactly where Chase was. I’m not going to lie, relief rushed through me for a selfish moment. She hadn’t taken off because of us, she’d taken off because Doofus was in trouble.

  I dressed quickly, and checked my phone. 12% charge. That would have to do.

  Thanking God for free motel Wi-Fi, I tapped out a text to Brendon telling him Doofus had taken a turn for the worst and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to San Diego. I stuffed my phone, charger and adaptor into my duffle bag and then hailed a taxi. I told the driver I was in a hurry and then sat in the back for the entire trip, fidgeting with worry. Freaking LA traffic meant it took me longer than I hoped to get there. Seriously, LA traffic is insane. How do people not go crazy? Peak-hour traffic in Melbourne is like a trickling stream compared to LA.

  Chase was out the front of the Laguna Niguel Animal Hospital when my taxi pulled up in the parking area. I knew before opening the door she was not in a good place, emotionally. What I didn’t know was why, but I hoped to hell it was something I could fix. Or at least, something I could help her through. I’ve been the emotional support for more than one pet owner who’s had to say goodbye to their beloved animal, and while I wanted nothing more than to walk into Dr. Adams’ clinic and see Doofus alive and well, I was bracing myself for the fact that wasn’t the case, and that Chase had been there to see him pass. Or worse still, when he was euthanized.

  I didn’t want her experiencing that kind of emotional hell. It sucks. It hurts. It tears you apart and leaves you feeling raw. And given Chase had ridden the emotional rollercoaster of Tanner’s battle with leukemia right along side her sister, being with the dog she’d helped save when it was put to sleep – a dog with a disability that I suspected Chase felt a powerful affinity for – would be enough to break her heart all over again.

  I paid the driver and closed the cab door, my eyes locked on her face. I crossed to where she stood, watching me, her mobile clamped to the side of her head. My gut clenched into a cold ball when she turned her back to me.

  “I wanted to be here, Donald,” I heard her say into the phone.

  Great. Donald the Dude was in her ear. Great. Fucking great.

  “I know,” she said, still with her back to me. Discomfort radiated from her. She gripped her upper arm with fingers that were white. “Yes, I know. But I—”

  He said something to make her fall quiet. To make her shoulders slump. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted to punch him for it. I’m not a violent person, hell, even on the rugby field I’m more about speed and fancy footwork than brute force and crunching bones, but right at that moment the need to smash my fist into Donald the Dude’s perfect jaw almost crippled me.

  I stopped a few feet from Chase, chest tight, and watched her. She shuffled her feet and shook her head. It was a weird habit she had – shaking her head while on the phone when the person on the other end had no hope of seeing it. I found it completely endearing.

  “Why?” she said suddenly. An uneasy prickling heat crept up the back of my neck and over my scalp at the harrowed conflict in her voice. “I don’t understand, Donald. After all this time, why are you so determined to—”

  She stopped, nodding her head.

  “Okay,” she said finally.

  Holy fuck, I didn’t like the sound of that word passing her lips – lips I’d tasted only the night before.

  “No, I don’t think I will. I’ve told you we’re done. I can’t keep doing . . . Okay, I’ll call you when I get—”

  For whatever reason, she didn’t say the word back. What she did do was hang up and shove the phone into her pocket.

  I waited until she turned to face me. When her eyes found mine, I offered a gentle smile. “You weren’t there when I woke. Is everything okay?”

  She shook her head. “No. Doofus has an infection.”

  I wanted to tell her I was asking about her, about us, but I didn’t.

  “An infection?” I echoed. “I’m assuming he’s now on antibiotics?”

  She nodded this time. Agitation radiated from her, thick and disquieting.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said, smoothing my palms up her arms as I smiled again. “Trust me.”

  A shaky sigh fell from her. “Caden . . .” she began.

  Pink started singing ‘Walk of Shame’ from her pocket.

  Before I could stop it, I rolled my eyes and let out an exasperated growl. “The guy doesn’t take a hint, does he?”

  Chase frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I swallowed. “Do you want to get it? Answer it? If you don’t, I guarantee he’ll ring again in a few seconds. I’ve noticed he does that.”

  I was starting to get angry, which was worrisome. I didn’t do anger. I did jokes. The trouble was, I didn’t seem to be doing them right now either.

  “No.” Chase shook her head. “I don’t want to answer it.”

  My gut clenched at the tension in her answer. It was my turn to sigh. “Chase,” I said, “I have to tell you something. I should have told you before now, but I keep putting if off.”

  Her frown deepened. She pulled away from me. A little. “What?”

  Pink suddenly topped singing, Donald’s call no doubt now going to Chase’s voicemail.

  “Ah fuck,” I muttered, rubbing at the back of my neck. “The other night when you went out to get condoms, Donald the Dude called.”

  Chase’s expression grew still.

  “And I answered,” I finished.

  She didn’t blink. She stared up at me, unmoving. “What did you say?”

  My stomach clenched again. A hot ball filled my throat. I could have spun some bullshit about not really saying anything, but I wasn’t a liar. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to Chase. “I told him you were going to be too busy to call him back.”

  Her eyes widened, her lips parted and she gasped, recoiling a little from me. “You what?”

  “I told him you weren’t available to talk and that you’d be too busy when you got back,” I said. Holy crap, my chest felt like it was being crushed in an invisible vise.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Why?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Because the guy is a dick, Chase. Because when I first saw you with him at the airport, you looked uncomfortable. Because when he touched you back there, you visibly flinched. Because he won’t leave you the fuck alone no matter how many times you ignore his calls or texts, or tell him not to. That’s why.”

  “And you think that’s your job? To guard me from men like Donald Perry?”

  I should have caught the warning in her voice. I should have clamped down on my rising anger. I didn’t. I should have tried for a witty comeback to defuse the situation. That was my normal modus operandi. But then, I also shouldn’t have waited this long to tell her what I’d done. For a guy who’s pretty switched on, I was being rather idiotic. “If you’re not going to protect yourself, Chase, then someone has to.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. And then pivoted on her heel and hurried away from me.

  Shit. Shit shit shit.

  “Chase,” I yelled, running after her. I grabbed at her elbow but she shrugged me off and kept walking. “Chase, wait.”

  She didn’t. Instead, she raised her hands so I could see them above her head and signed fuck off.

  I quickened my pace, running past her. She didn’t look at me.

  “Chase.” I stopped directly in her path, holding out my palms toward her. “Wait.”

  She came to a halt, her glare hot. “Do you have any idea how it feels to discover people think you are incapable of looking after yourself?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I protested.

  She arched an eyebrow at me. “Try again, O’Dae. This time with the truth.”

  I opened my mouth. And then closed it again. The truth was exactly what she’d suggested: I was worried she couldn’t make the right decision when it came to the Art History professor. But for fuck’s sake, I loved her. I was allowed to be worried. Especially when this dick wouldn’t leave her alone.

  “Chase,” I said for the fourth time. What I was going to say after that had yet to enter my head.

  “Yep.” She crossed her arms over her chest, stare fixed on my face. “That’s me. The girl everyone seems to think needs to be treated like a toddler.”