Healing You

by Katana Collins

  “You ready to run my race for me?” he asked.

  She nodded, scanning the various dogs that they had saved together with Yvonne a few weeks earlier. “Wow, she did an incredible job. These all look like totally different dogs.”

  “I know. I can’t believe she found so many fosters in such a short amount of time,” he said, giving Dawn a nudge. “I know you foster now and then for a couple of days. Maybe you’ll finally make one of those permanent?”

  She snorted. “Oh, yeah. My cat will love that.”

  Steve grabbed a spare adoption form off the table and handed it to her. “Just in case you change your mind.”

  She snatched it out of his hand, folding it and slipping it into her arm band. “I’m going to go say hi to Yvonne.”

  A sliver of the sun slanted over the peaked mountains in the distance… Mount Washington. Despite her declaration of going to say hi to Yvonne, Dawn didn’t move. Didn’t leave his side. “You’re a wreck without her,” Dawn said. “Even more now than you were in veterinary school. You miss her.”

  Yeah. That wasn’t anything that Steve hadn’t realized a million times over that week. She made herself vulnerable to him in a way he never had to her before. She’d practically begged him to stay last weekend when he came by to check on her after the engagement party and he’d left her again. And even after that, she had still found it somewhere deep inside of herself to be kind to him—to be friendly and not hold a grudge. He needed to make it right. He needed to find a way to give something incredible back to her. “I screwed up,” he said. It wasn’t about the confusion from when they were teens anymore. This was about now. About last weekend, and about his inability to handle their relationship when things got tough.

  “So… you fix it. You’re a doctor. You make things better. Go make it better.”

  After a beat of frustration, he blew out a breath. “Yeah, it’s not that easy. There’s no pill for forgiveness.”

  “No shit,” Dawn said in that perfectly candid way she had about her. They stood staring at Yvonne working and almost sensing their stares, she looked up, catching their eyes on her. She waved, her grin widening when she saw Dawn, but she didn’t stop working. “Whatever it is keeping you from her… get over yourself. You deserve peace. You deserve happiness, even though I know deep down you still don’t believe you do. And she deserves happiness, too. You’ve got to find a way to not spend your life so fearful of what may or may not happen again.” Dawn gave his arm a final squeeze before she walked over to say hello to Yvonne.

  That was easy for her to say. In the course of six years, she hadn’t lost her father and almost lost her own life and a girlfriend’s. Steve could barely remember what it was like living without that fear of loss. It had been so deeply carved into his personality, into his soul, he wasn’t sure he knew how to survive without it. It was as much a part of him as his legs or flesh or the blood rushing through his body. But just as he couldn’t imagine living without fear… it was even harder to imagine living without Yvonne.

  ‡

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The air horn sounded, blasting through the start line of the race and Yvonne felt her belly jump at the sound. Adrenaline pumped through her, and she smiled down at Gatsby as they took off running.

  She made sure to take it easy, going at a leisurely pace instead of her usual race-day “in it to win it” speed. Gatsby trotted alongside of her and at times even pulled harder on the leash. He was begging to go faster and with the kinetic energy of dozens of other dogs and runners taking off ahead of them, it simply fueled his energy. It pushed Gatsby to want to run and play and chase the other runners.

  As they rounded the curve into the second mile, a familiar baritone voice was in her ear. It didn’t have its usual deep husk to it and instead, he was breathless. “Yvonne.”

  She slowed to match Jonah’s pace as he struggled to stay by her shoulder. “You made it,” she said. “How’s your first race going?”

  “Well, I’ve got nothing to compare it to. But so far so good, I think.”

  Even though it was only eight a.m., the sun was already blazing hot above them, and Jonah’s skin was dappled with sweat. Gatsby brushed his leg, tail wagging, and Yvonne couldn’t help but smile. That was the beauty of dogs, right? It didn’t matter that Jonah hadn’t really cared for him. It didn’t matter that he would have happily let Gatsby live the remainder of his life in the garage alongside his fancy cars. Gatsby lived in the moment. And just then, in that moment, he was simply happy to visit with an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while.

  And for that second, watching Gatsby give Jonah the second chance, Steve’s face flashed into her mind. Maybe she needed to take a lesson out of Gatsby’s book for once. Live in the moment.

  “Hey G,” Jonah said, giving Gatsby a quick, reserved pat to the head.

  They ran beside each other for a little longer before Yvonne broke the silence. “I think it’s really great you’re getting involved in the community here. Living in Maple Grove is more than putting an address under your name. I’ve always wanted that for you.”

  Jonah smiled, his dark curly hair flopping with each pounding strike of his feet against pavement. “Thanks. I always thought I’d be bored here whenever I’d come to stay with you at your place—”

  “What? All of three times?”

  He dropped his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I messed up a lot.”

  She paused to tug her water bottle from her waist belt and pulled off to the side to give Gatsby a drink. “I hope that’s not why you’re here. Why you’re doing this… moving here. As some sort of way to win me back—”

  “No,” he interrupted, running a hand through his damp hair. “Well… yeah. At first it was. But in the last few weeks, I get it. I’ve seen you with him around town and, hell, you never smiled like that with me when we were together.”

  “You never smiled like that with me either.”

  “Yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

  “Just… whoever she is that makes you happy, don’t try to change her into something else. Love her for who she is.”

  “I promise.”

  Yvonne slipped the water bottle back into her belt and before taking off again, she paused. “You’re not adopting a pet today, are you?”

  Jonah’s gaze dropped to Gatsby for a moment before he shook his head. “No offense, but I barely have time for myself.”

  A sense of relief washed over her. Yvonne sure as hell knew that was true. She was just happy he knew it as well. “I hope that changes for you. And when it does, if you decide you want a pet, I can help you find the right one.”

  “Like a goldfish?” he called after her as she and Gatsby took off running again.

  She smiled, but didn’t bother to look back. There was no reason to. Not when there was so much waiting for her ahead at the finish line.

  *

  Yvonne took a deep breath as she rounded the corner at the four and a half mile point. Gatsby lagged slightly behind, and she slowed her pace to nearly a walk. His tongue was out of his mouth, and she pulled off into the grassy shade and bent to give him more water. His chest heaved with violent pants… more strained than usual, and he lapped up the water.

  Yvonne could feel her body tense as she sat down next to him, stretching out her muscles. “It’s okay, Gatsby. We’ve got nowhere to be. We can take our time getting to that finish line. She leaned into the grass, resting on her elbow and lowered her face to his chest, playing with the turquoise bandana tied around his neck. She smiled, running her fingers over the tightly woven embroidery that Kyra had given him six weeks earlier.

  As her deep breathing faded, another sound filled her ears. Wheezing. Like Gatsby couldn’t breathe. And just as quickly, she too, felt her breath tighten in her chest. She placed a hand on his belly. The soft rise and fall came slower and slower, and his head lolled on the grass, his eyes closed.

  “Gatsby.” She squeezed out his name, her throat constricting as sh
e rushed to untie the bandana and give him breathing room. Grabbing her water bottle, she doused his neck and under his arms to cool him down. His eyelid flinched with the wetness, and she pressed her palm to his chest again. She felt a light flutter of a heartbeat. “Oh, God. Oh, Gatsby. Stay with me. Stay with me.”

  Moving the water bottle to his mouth, she tilted some of it onto his tongue, but it only dribbled right back out onto the grass below. She looked down, noticing a couple droplets of blood on the blades of grass closest to his face.

  The tears were falling in a steady stream, and as she looked closer at his face, a smear of red dripped out of his nose. Fumbling for her phone, it nearly slipped out of her hands as she dialed Steve’s number with trembling fingers. “This can’t be our goodbye, Gatsby. This isn’t how it ends,” she whispered, as the phone rang.

  “Eve?”

  “Gatsby,” she hiccuped. “He’s… something’s wrong.” The words came out in sobs.

  The phone drifted out of her grasp, and she looked up to find Ronnie standing over her, with her phone to her ear.

  “She’s at the corner of Market and Willoughby, Steve. Hurry.”

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  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Steve hadn’t driven this fast since he was a teenager. He didn’t bother stopping at lights or signs if he could help it. As long as the roads were clear, he paused, then blew right through them. Ronnie was on speaker phone, and he had them keeping a damp, cool cloth on Gatsby until he could get there with a bag of fluids he had grabbed from his clinic.

  The cop waved him through, thanks to someone giving the race guides a heads up. He stopped, not bothering to properly park, and jumped out, rushing to where Yvonne, Ronnie, and Gatsby were lying in the grass nearby.

  Yvonne was sobbing, hunched over Gatsby, and Ronnie had one hand on the dog and the other around Yvonne’s shoulders.

  “Shh, he’s here. He’s here,” Ronnie said.

  “Oh, God, Steve. What have I done?” Yvonne cried, bending down and pressing her lips to Gatsby’s head.

  “You didn’t do anything, Eve. Deep breaths for me, baby.” Steve knelt in the grass, handing the fluids to Ronnie. She assisted him without him even needing to ask. “Call Dawn. She’s somewhere on the race route. Have her meet me at the clinic as soon as possible. I’m going to need the help.”

  Steve slipped on his stethoscope and listened to Gatsby’s chest. There was a light thrum of a heartbeat. But far too quiet and infrequent for his liking. He tightened his grip around Gatsby’s nearly limp front leg, until one vein protruded, then pushed the needle in, beginning the IV drip while Ronnie held the fluid bag for him.

  “Come on, big guy.” He looked around, making eye contact with Jonah thirty feet away. Jonah looked almost as startled as he was, as Steve waved him over. He needed all the muscle he could get to lift Gatsby without disturbing him or the IV.

  Jonah came over with hardly any hesitation, the expression on his face horrified. “Is he d—”

  Steve cut him off with a shake of his head and a quick side-glance to Yvonne. Ronnie had resumed her position holding her, one hand still grasping the fluid bag. “I need help getting Gatsby into my car where I can blast the AC. His core temperature is too high.”

  Jonah nodded, tugging his earphones out and throwing his phone onto the grass. “I’ll take his back legs.”

  On the count of three, the two men lifted the hundred pound dog as Ronnie opened the back seat of Steve’s car, following steps in front of them with the IV bag. Gatsby’s eyes fluttered open, his tongue drifting out in a half-hearted kiss of Steve’s hand that made his heart ache. A trickle of blood dripped out of the dog’s nostril and down Steve’s hand.

  They got the dog situated in the backseat before he, Ronnie and Yvonne climbed in the car. “I’ll sit in the back with him,” Yvonne said, but Ronnie had already climbed in.

  “I’ve got his IV hook up,” Ronnie answered her gently. “We’ll be at the clinic in no time.” Steve turned the AC up high, directing all the vents directly to the back before flooring it back to his clinic.

  Then, looking to Steve, she said, “Dawn’s already prepping your procedure room.”

  “Thanks, Ronnie.”

  Beside him in the passenger seat, Yvonne wasn’t buckled in. She was on her knees, her hands resting on Gatsby’s back legs, which were cradled in Ronnie’s lap back there. Tears flowed freely down her face.

  Panic seized his body at the sight of her not buckled into her seat. All it would take was one wrong move. One other driver not paying attention and she would be thrown through his windshield again.

  “Eve, babe, I really need you to put your seat buckle on,” he said as calmly as he could manage. Sweat poured from his brow and thank God he was stuck at a red light with other traffic. Because he wasn’t sure he could hit the gas pedal right then if he tried.

  Big hazel eyes stared at him through a pool of tears, but she did what he asked without further arguments. Then, once buckled in, she twisted back to hold Gatsby’s paw again.

  The light turned green. And still, he couldn’t go. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his teeth digging into his lip so hard he could taste the coppery blood spilling on his tongue. This was what happened when he tried to let his loved ones live their lives. He should have spoken up sooner. Fully informed Eve of the potential problems with Gatsby running in this heat.

  “Steve, it’s green,” Ronnie said.

  His mouth went dry.

  “Steve.” A shattered breath came from his right and Yvonne’s hand drifted on top of his at the steering wheel. Looking into her face, he got lost in those hazel eyes for a half-second. “Please. Save my dog.”

  Her hand squeezed his, and it was all the push he needed as his foot hit the accelerator.

  *

  Yvonne sat in the waiting room for what felt like a lifetime. In reality it had only been a bit more than an hour… and Ronnie hadn’t left her side once. A flash of awful déjà vu—the day Gatsby was diagnosed with cancer while she sat in the same chair—slammed into her.

  The turquoise bandana was damp from water they had poured on it to try to keep him cool in the heat. Yvonne jumped out of her seat, pacing across the waiting room for the third time that hour.

  “Why don’t you sit down and try to relax?” Ronnie tapped her palm against the chair beside her.

  Yvonne shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t relax. What’s taking so long?” After another few laps back and forth across the room, she resumed her seat beside Ronnie. “What have I done?”

  “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

  “Why not? I planned this stupid 10K at the height of summer. I’m the one who took Gatsby along on my run.” Another bubble of guilt rose in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing Gatsby’s pain away. It was all too similar. The guilt that grabbed hold of her like a riptide, threatening to pull her back under water. No one wanted to blame her, but deep down she knew better. She was the risk taker. She was the one who loved extreme sports, and her loved ones just got swept up in the process and dragged down with her.

  “In every situation, there’s something we all could have done differently,” Ronnie answered. She didn’t offer any empty clichés or trite remarks about how it would all be okay.

  No, that wasn’t Ronnie Tripp’s style. She simply sat there, her hand closed over Yvonne’s or with a strong arm draped reassuringly across her shoulders, and gave her all her strength that she was capable of sharing. She sat with quiet resolve, her fingers entwined with Yvonne’s.

  “Yes, but in those situations, if you could go back and do it all again—”

  “But you can’t.” Ronnie turned to look directly at her. Those blue eyes a slightly darker shade than Steve’s. Like the deepest sections of the ocean, and nearly as rough and tumultuous. She shrugged and repeated that. “You can’t. Why waste time thinking about it?”

  Yvonne narrowed her eyes, her tears clearing from her vision like
clouds parting on a foggy day. “Because we can learn from our mistakes, Ronnie.”

  She nodded. “We can. But instead of looking back, I prefer to apologize and look forward.”

  Yvonne arched an eyebrow at that. “You do?”

  Ronnie squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Despite your teenage drama with my brother, I should have come to see you in the hospital. I shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

  A whole new set of tears slammed into her. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, too—”

  Ronnie rolled her eyes, then softened it with a smile. “You and I both know that I don’t deserve that apology from you. My brother did, but he deserves to give one as much as he deserves to get one.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Kyra stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “Am I seriously seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Arms open, she charged toward them like a bull seeing red. “Are my two best friends talking again?”

  Ronnie hugged Kyra back, looking at Yvonne from around her shoulders. “Thank God I have someone to help me deal with this girl now.”

  Kyra pulled out of the hug, delivering a playful kick to Ronnie’s shins. “How’s Gatsby?”

  Yvonne’s momentary bout of happiness faded fast as she shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked out the window to where the party was in full swing. “Who’s taking care of the adoption paperwork? Carrie can’t do it all alone.”

  “Your parents. They heard about Gatsby and offered to take my place behind the table.”

  “My parents? Are volunteering?”

  Kyra nodded. “They would have come in to check on you, but your mom said you probably preferred to see me.”

  “Well, she’s not wrong about that,” Yvonne sighed. As much as she loved her mother, Kyra was much better in a bad situation.

  Kyra plopped down in the seat next to her. “I think Callie’s falling in love with Ruckus. And your mom’s been holding a little fluffy white poodle looking dog all morning. She won’t let her walk in the grass for fear that she might break a nail.”