Healing You

by Katana Collins

  Molly raised a tentative gaze to Steve, and he chuckled, jerking his head toward the water. “Aw, go ahead.” After she leapt in belly first with a splash, he pulled a tennis ball from his pocket, hurling it into the lake. She swam the whole way out to the bobbing ball, grasped it in her jaw, and turned, swimming back to him. “Good girl.” He scratched her wet head, took the ball and threw it again, this time even further. Tugging his shirt off and tossing his phone and keys on top, he too dove in.

  With each lap around the lake, his mind wandered more and more to Yvonne. She hated him. She’d made that really clear in the hospital. He’d kind of hated himself, too. Deep down, there was an anger there… at her… and a sadness that he had never had the chance to explain himself. Defend those things she had said in her letter. And as the years passed, it mattered less and less. That anger had been there for years, probably ever since the accident, but just like with any wound, it had developed scar tissue; morphing the flesh, changing the wound until years later, he could barely remember what the source of it initially looked like.

  Steve swam hard, feeling the water push against his muscles, the lake cool and lapping against his heated flesh. With each stroke that cut through the water, he pushed the thoughts of her away, deeper, until they were at the bottom of the lake. As he came up for air, he grasped onto the wood dock, the planks grainy beneath his fingers and pulled his body out of the water.

  “Oh!”

  Steve spun to find Yvonne staring at him from the dock, mouth gaping open. She flushed as Steve grabbed his T-shirt and wiped the droplets of water from his face, intentionally not hiding or covering his scar. He was well beyond the insecure college freshman who had to party to cover who he really was. And he certainly wasn’t going to do that for the woman who’d been by his side when the scar had been created. Except he knew better than that. She’d never responded well to his scar. Not when he came back from school and finally agreed to have coffee with her, and not even today in the veterinary clinic when she gave him that pitied stare.

  “Twice in one day.” He’d meant it to come out light-hearted, but his voice had a warning to it he didn’t quite recognize. He cleared his throat and tried again. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Yvonne’s eyes flitted around as she redirected her gaze anywhere but on Steve’s scar. Which was rather amusing, considering she had her own scar on her forearm. But it also made for an awkward conversation when the person wouldn’t even look at you.

  “I was just finishing my run,” she said quietly, gesturing to her mesh shorts and tank top. Then, with a snort, she dropped her head, shaking it. “I don’t speak to you for years and then twice in one day, I’m a sweaty, smelly mess both times.”

  She tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear and tightened her ponytail.

  “Don’t forget snotty and red-eyed.” Steve leaned in to her shoulder and inhaled. She clicked her tongue, jaw dropping indignantly. But before she could respond, Steve continued. “Sweaty, yeah. Smelly? No way.” He smiled. She smelled amazing. Natural. “You should jump in the water. It’ll feel like heaven after your run.”

  She cleared her throat. “I was going to, actually. I always do.”

  Steve tugged his shirt back over his head. “What are you doing running out here? I thought you lived over on the West End?” He eyed her long, muscled legs as she drew figure eights in the sand with her toe.

  “I used to,” she said, shrugging. “I moved over here a few months ago.”

  Steve frowned. “I bet your parents love that.” His neighborhood was great, of course, but compared to the West End? This side of town may as well have been made up of trailer parks to the Sarzackis. “How come I haven’t seen you before?”

  She swallowed hard and her throat tightened as it went down. “I usually run in the mornings. But today was… well, I didn’t get to have my usual schedule. Blame the rest on a missing cat.” She gestured behind her. “I ran into your mom and she thought she’d spotted her neighbor’s lost cat near these docks. No sign of the kitty though. Did you see her?”

  “Nope. I’ll keep my eye out.” He had to fight not to roll his eyes. He was an idiot… this whole chance encounter reeked of Marty Tripp. He bet Frank didn’t even have a new boat. “How’s Gatsby doing?” he asked, changing the subject before she figured out what his mother was up to.

  A grin split her face. “He’s great. When I got home from work, his tail was wagging and he rushed over to say hi.”

  “I’m so glad. Promise me you’ll call if his health changes?”

  There was a long pause as she tilted her jaw, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. “I promise.” Her hazel eyes smoldered as though ripe with a new challenge.

  She pulled her tank top off, revealing a sports bra beneath. Tanned skin and tight abs caught his attention immediately and he suddenly felt the need to dive back into that freezing water. Jesus. Some things never change. That pesky, logical voice in the back of his head told him to look away, and he cursed it as he obeyed, dipping his gaze to the ground.

  Yvonne’s laughter boomed in the still twilight. “Well, well, well, look who’s fine being shirtless, but suddenly shy around a sports bra.”

  He snapped his gaze back to hers. Was that… was she flirting with him? He took a slow step closer. “I think shy is a bit of an overstatement.”

  She shrugged, dropping her keys and phone beside her shirt and kicking off her shoes. “Maybe. I’m not your type, though.” She brushed past him, dipping her toes into the lake.

  “What makes you think my type has changed at all in thirteen years?”

  She was now waist deep in the water and the little shorts clung to her tight ass like a second skin. Steve suppressed a groan. Unfortunately for him, his shorts were likewise wet and clingy as he felt the stirrings of an erection.

  “Did you call Sophy?” Yvonne’s voice broke through his thoughts. “To thank her for bringing you her cookies?” She grinned, and her voice pealed with laughter. Teasing.

  Holy shit… she was teasing him? It was rusty… creaky, and yet, they each slid into their old roles.

  Steve laughed. “Hey, credit where credit’s due. Those were Lex’s cookies. And damn good ones at that.”

  Yvonne laughed and fell back into the lake, dipping entirely under water and coming back up moments later. “It’s none of my business. Besides, you could never say no to… cookies.”

  “I’d be more than happy to bring you cookies next time.” He arched one eyebrow and wet his lips as he watched a wake wash over her flat stomach. The words slipped out before he had the good sense to stop them. What was he doing? Nothing had changed between them.

  “From what I heard, you got very good at sharing your cookies after college.”

  “Is that what you heard?” It wasn’t entirely wrong. He’d gone through a playboy streak. And even recently, he didn’t have relationships per say. But he certainly had lovers. Granted, those playboy days of his were long ago, and since opening his own clinic, he kept his trysts quiet and usually out of Maple Grove.

  Molly barked and swam into the lake alongside Yvonne, who laughed and gave his dog a splashy pet. “Hey, Molly. You have a good run, too?”

  Steve inhaled deeply, feeling the clean summer air fill his lungs before he let it out slowly. He hated that she still saw him that way. Like a playboy.

  She barely looked at Steve, now completely enchanted with his dog and petting the scruff of her neck. “Molly—tell me, how many different kinds cookies does your daddy accept each week?” The muscles in his back seized up at that statement, and he stretched his neck to each side in an effort to release that tension. She kissed Molly’s nose before taking the tennis ball and lobbing it into the lake. Molly lurched after it, splashing Yvonne in the face.

  “Yvonne?” Steve said quietly.

  She paused from watching Molly, looking up at him with a serene expression. “Hmm?”

  “I’m a lot of things. There’s a lot to hate
me for. But that’s not one of them. I’m not that guy.”

  She swallowed, nostrils flaring and despite being waist deep in cool lake water, her face flushed pink. “What guy?” The question was pointed, and he’d be damned if she didn’t really know what he was saying.

  Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistled, the noise shrill and loud and cutting through the silent sunset. Molly came instantly, jumping out of the water and shaking the excess moisture off before running by his side. “Have a nice swim, Yvonne.”

  And with that, he turned for his house, leaving her alone in the middle of the lake and wetter than he’d seen her since she was sixteen.

  ‡

  Chapter Five

  That night, Yvonne got back to her one bedroom townhouse on the East Side. It wasn’t the largest apartment they had to offer, but it did have a fenced in yard—a requirement if she was going to continue her work saving animals, since they couldn’t always find foster homes. Even though she had a small rental office for her and Carrie to have meetings, it wasn’t large enough to house the animals.

  She tilted her head, walking up. There on her stoop was a small, wrapped box. As she opened the door, Gatsby was up and bounding toward her, doing that happy little butt wiggle he’d perfected since puppyhood.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said, falling to her knees and hugging him. “You’re feeling a lot better, huh?”

  Pulling open the card, she saw the gift was addressed to Gatsby.

  For Gatsby, the most gentle-giant dog I’ve ever met. Cancer can lick your ass. It’s about time someone other than you does.

  Love, Kyra.

  Yvonne smiled at the note from her best friend and opened the present to find a turquoise bandana with Bite me, Cancer stitched on it. It was so perfectly Kyra. Laughing, she bent down to tie the scarf around her dog’s neck. He sat patiently, then responded with a playful lick to her cheek before running off into the kitchen and nudging his food bowl with his nose.

  “Nice to see your appetite is back.” She scooped his bowl into the tub of kibble before sending a quick thank you text to Kyra.

  Stripping her soaking sports bra from her body, she shimmied out of her mesh running shorts and stepped into her shower, hitting play on her messages and putting it on speaker. She cringed as her mother’s voice blasted through the bluetooth waterproof speakers.

  “Yvonne Brigitte Sarzacki, why are you not answering your mother’s call?” There was a pause as dead air hung in the message. And even though Yvonne knew rationally that her mother couldn’t see or hear her, she froze. Her mother’s sigh echoed into the voicemail. “Call me back. Your father and I want to take you to dinner and after… maybe you could finally show us your new… home.”

  She could just picture her mother’s teeth grinding together. Celeste Sarzacki may have been an amazing classically trained singer in her heyday, but an actress, she was not. If her mother had had her choice, Yvonne would never work another day in her life, and her days would be spent perfecting her back hand on the tennis courts while Jonah earned a living for them. No, no, wait… tennis was probably still a little too dangerous for Yvonne. God forbid she pull a muscle or break a nail.

  The message clicked off and went to the next one.

  “Yvonne, it’s Jonah.” Despite the stream of steaming water massaging her muscles, she groaned, muscles suddenly tight at the sound of his voice. When she called off the wedding, he had spent two months straight trying to win her back. All those same tactics that had worked when he was courting her—flowers, phone calls, chocolates. All it did was to further remind her as to how smothering he could be. And for some women? They might love that. Somewhere out there was a future wife for Jonah who would relish being that sort of attention. But it wasn’t Yvonne.

  “I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he continued, “and I just thought I’d check in. See how you were doing.” Click. Well, that was at least shorter than what he usually left her.

  The next message was spam—some Internet search engine promising her animal rescue thousands of website traffic hits for advertising with them. She drowned out the long message, diving her face into the stream of wicked hot water.

  Steam billowed around her and she inhaled, letting the heat fill her lungs. God, that felt good. Her muscles were still tight from her run, and she rolled her neck from side to side as she swept the soap over her body. Her mind wandered to Steve for what felt like the millionth time that day—and seeing him shirtless certainly hadn’t helped get her mind off of him. The past thirteen years had been very kind to him. She brought the soap down her body, building a lather across the scar on her arm as his words from earlier rang in her ears. I’m not that guy. But his womanizing wasn’t her issue. Never had been. She’d always known she had been different than the other girls in high school he’d dated. Their relationship had been different from the way she had to court him, convince him to go on a date with her to how he would devote his attention to her. She saw him for truly what he was; he wasn’t some bad boy rebel without a cause. He was a grieving teen dealing with the loss of his father beneath a reckless facade. And extreme, adrenaline pumping activities helped him forget the pain. Just like they helped her escape her parents. They had two different destinations, but with the same path. Sophy and her cookie wasn’t the wedge being driven between them. And if he couldn’t realize that, then she wasn’t about to explain it.

  “Yvonne, it’s Carrie.” Yvonne stopped what she was doing, sliding the glass door open so she could hear the next message better. “Someone called animal control to report a puppy mill. Laconia Humane Society arrived on the scene, but apparently, it’s a nightmare over there and they’re already at capacity. Can you be there tonight? If we can’t find fosters for them…” Her assistant’s voice faded away, and then she cleared her throat. “Anyway, I have a dinner thing tonight and I can’t be there until nine.”

  Yvonne scrubbed the suds quickly out of her hair and toweled off at a lightning-fast speed as Carrie finished the message with an address.

  “Sorry, boy.” She leaned down, giving Gatsby a kiss between the ears. “Duty calls.” Cupping his fuzzy chin, she looked into his big mocha-colored eyes. “You understand, right?”

  He licked her hand, and she snuggled him one more time. “You rest up and feel better.” Then, grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

  *

  When Yvonne arrived on the scene, a handful of volunteers were already there from the Laconia Humane Society. The owners of this awful puppy mill had been taken away in handcuffs already for animal abuse. And thank God for that. If Yvonne had come in contact with them? She may have gone all Sarah Connor on their asses.

  She looked around the yard. Cages were stacked one on top of the other. It wasn’t the worst conditions she’d seen from a puppy mill… but it also was far from the best. Excrement. Matted fur. Possible infections. They needed a veterinarian on scene. She fumbled for her phone, texting Carrie.

  Did you call Dr. Hidienbrand?

  Carrie’s text came through almost immediately. I did, but she’s not available.

  I’ll take care of it. Yvonne pulled up her contacts list, her thumb hovering over Steve’s name. Normally, she would make an effort to call every other vet in a forty-mile radius to avoid having Steve come to one of these things. But now? Something had shifted with them. And if she and Steve could get back to a friendly way of coexisting? It wouldn’t only make her job easier… it would make her whole life easier. She pushed a deep breath through her lips and dialed his number.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Steve, it’s Yvonne. I hate to bother you this late.”

  “Let me guess… a puppy mill?”

  The question took her aback for all of a second. “You’re already here, aren’t you?”

  “Dr. Hidienbrand called me.” His voice vibrated through her body, and she shivered, feeling the buzz of his presence right behind her. She turned, hanging up the phone as he did the same
, sliding it back into his pocket. “Apparently Carrie had been calling around and no one was available—even Amanda was busy with a study group.”

  Yvonne swallowed hard, surveying the yard once more before returning her gaze to him. A fresh scent came off his clothes and his hair still looked a bit damp at the ends, from either his swim in the lake or a shower after. “I don’t know how much funds I have in the account. Not for this scope of work…”

  “It’s okay.” He placed a soft, reassuring hand on her elbow. “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s just save some lives.”

  Before she could answer, Steve ran off to gather the volunteers. Once he had them in a circle, he spoke in a clear, loud voice. “Hey, everyone. I also called a classmate of mine who lives about forty miles south. She should be here soon to help. In the meantime, report to me with the most severe cases. Matted fur and even ingrown nails can wait. Look for lethargy, inability to drink water or stand, and any cuts that look infected. Okay, let’s save some animals.”

  He met Yvonne’s eyes and they locked for all of a second before each ran in different directions. In the driveway, they had a kiddie pool and a hose with a makeshift bathtub ready to clean the dogs before transport. Even if just enough to get the feces off their fur, the poor things.

  Yvonne rushed to the first cage, finding a female dachshund looking up at her with dull eyes. She was filthy, but all in all, healthy. She put a Post-It on the cage signaling that this one was good to be bathed.

  Moving one cage up, she found a shivering Chihuahua… probably a fawn color, though it was hard to tell through the grime and dirt. Yvonne tucked her sleeves into her thick work gloves, just in case any of these little guys decided to bite, and opened the cage. Reaching a hand inside, knuckles first, she spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. “Hey there, little one. You okay?”

  The Chihuahua cowered, shivering, refusing to make eye contact. Yvonne gently scooped a hand under her chest, lifting her out of the cage. A wispy whimper escaped from the shivering dog, and when she looked at her belly, she saw red, swollen nipples. Likely from breeding too many times at too young of an age.