by Mara Wells
Sydney was the first to break the silence. “I’ve started interviewing for jobs.”
“Any place would be lucky to have you.” Riley smiled over her mug.
Sydney grimaced. “If only you were the one hiring. After so many years freelancing, I have to admit it’s hard to find a good fit. Can you believe the interviewer yesterday said I couldn’t bring Chewy with me to work?”
“I believe it.” Eliza swiped at the bench with a folded napkin she pulled out of her bra, then took a seat. “Most workplaces frown on rats running around.”
“He is not a rat!” Sydney huffed and sipped her coffee. “He’s my inspiration. I couldn’t possibly work without him.”
“Then you might be interviewing for a while.” Eliza’s words were dry, but her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Unless you set your sights on a rat-catching business.”
“Eliza!” Sydney snorted, immediately holding a finger under her nose as if to keep coffee from flying out.
“Take a joke already.” Eliza sipped her coffee, looking quite pleased with herself. “How about you, Riley? Wedding planning going smoothly?”
“I wouldn’t say smoothly, but it’s going.” Riley checked her phone and spent a silent moment, thumbs flying. “Speaking of, I better head out. We’ve got a meeting with the caterer and a potential new buyer doing a walk-through, conveniently scheduled at the same time. Caleb really needs to learn how to use the shared calendar better.” Riley called LouLou to her, grumbling about being in two places at once. After LouLou was leashed, Riley waved goodbye, took a few steps, and then turned back to Danielle.
“See you tomorrow? We do this every morning about this time. I bring the coffee. Carrie usually shows up after her run with some fruit slices or something.”
Danielle sucked in a surprised breath. “What can I bring?”
Riley tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to ponder. “Sydney either brings delicious muffins or delicious gossip. Eliza brings the snark. What’ve you got?”
Danielle racked her brain. “Puppy pictures?”
“What? Why didn’t you say so?” Riley backtracked, and Sydney and Eliza crowded around. “Show us.”
Danielle pulled out her phone and opened up the album she’d dedicated to the puppies. The other women oohed and aahed at all the right moments, so Danielle pulled out the pièce de résistance: videos of a puppy pileup, all wiggly butts and little pink tongues.
Sydney held a hand to her chest. “I’m going to die of cuteness overload. These are on your YouTube channel, right?”
“Channel? Uh, no.” Danielle pocketed the phone while Riley apologized for leaving early and dashed out.
“Website?” Sydney thumbed her own phone on. “What’s the name of your rescue again?”
“Homestretch.”
“It doesn’t even come up on a Google search. What’re your tags?”
Danielle looked at her blankly.
“How do people find you?” Sydney’s finger tapped an impatient beat on her screen.
“Word of mouth?”
“This is worse than I thought.” Sydney opened her calendar. “I have an interview today at 1:00 p.m., but after that I’m free. Can I buy you a coffee and tell you how ignoring your web presence is fatal to any business plan?”
Danielle swallowed, fighting that panicked feeling she got in dreams about showing up to a final exam for a class she never took. “That’s really nice of you, but I don’t actually have a business plan. I don’t want to waste your time.”
Eliza sputtered on her coffee, and Sydney shook her head sadly. “You should know better than anyone that time spent helping dogs is never wasted, and luckily for you, I’m not afraid of a challenge. Website, YouTube channel, a social media presence. Don’t worry. I’ll hook you up.”
Danielle knew there was more she could be doing to advertise; she simply never had the time to figure it out. Or the budget to hire someone else to do it. “That would be wonderful, but I’m afraid I can’t hire you. You could absolutely bring Chewy to work with you, though.”
Sydney stuck out her hand. “Alright, my friend, you’ve got yourself a volunteer. At least until I get a new gig. A paying gig.”
“Understood.” Danielle shook on it. They finished their coffee before Danielle realized Riley’d left all the mugs behind.
“Don’t worry.” Eliza held open a tote filled with plastic bags. “I’ll take them downstairs. It’s quite convenient living at the Dorothy. Almost like living in the dorms back in college. Those were some good times.” Eliza told a story about the first protest she attended at UF while she hooked up Lady. Once she was gone, it was only Sydney and Danielle and the three dogs in the park.
“It won’t hurt, going digital. I promise.” Sydney gathered up Chewy and stuffed him into the sling. “I’ll do everything. At first anyway. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”
“Thank you.” Danielle sat on the bench to watch Luna run, trying to remember the last time she’d had plans with a bunch of girlfriends. High school? Madi, Cassie, and she had spent lots of weekends on Lincoln Road, trying on clothes and sipping smoothies at an outdoor table, people watching. Had it really been that long ago? There’d been occasional happy hours with folks from the clinic, but she’d never ordered more than one drink, self-conscious about being the boss’ daughter. She’d usually invent an excuse to leave early, and she’d imagined the others were relieved that they could relax after she’d left. So an open-invitation coffee date was new, but surprisingly, she didn’t hate the idea. Carrie rescued owls, and Sydney offered to help Homestretch without any prompting. She’d known Riley and Eliza most of her life. So, friends. She hadn’t thought about her lack of them in years, had gotten used to the idea that it was harder to meet new people in adulthood. Maybe it wasn’t that hard after all.
What could she bring to the morning coffee-and-dogs get-togethers besides adorable puppy pictures? When it came to baking, her specialty was dog biscuits. A slow smile spread across her face. She might just have found the one batch of friends who would appreciate her narrow culinary expertise. And wait until she broke out the dehydrated sweet potatoes. Fur Haven Dog Park was in for a treat.
Chapter 19
Knox swung the sledgehammer back and let it slam into the bathroom wall with a satisfying clunk. Maybe because outfitting a bathroom had been his first construction job with Lance, remodeling a former model’s downtown penthouse, Knox found bathroom renovations especially satisfying. The crack of old tiles, the way they crumbled to dust at his feet, made him feel like Thor come to life, wielding his mighty hammer.
“Something on your mind?” Lance swung a hammer behind him, his shaggy blond hair making him look more the part of Thor than Knox did. He smiled at the hole he’d punched through the drywall. They were on the last apartment of the remodel, the last demo job. The other units were in various states of completion as the crews made their way through doing their specialized jobs—installing, painting, decorating. Electrical, plumbing. There were a lot of moving parts. Knox didn’t know how Lance kept the whole schedule in his head, but somehow it was all coming together.
Knox took another swing. “Just enjoying the destruction. I see why you went into this line of work.”
“Fun, isn’t it?” Lance set down his sledgehammer to wrestle the sink off the wall. Knox took the other side, lending his strength to breaking the seal that held the porcelain to the tiles.
“Better than the gym.” Knox grunted when the sink loosened, and he ended up with the full weight balanced on his thighs.
Lance’s eyes widened, and he tugged the sink his way. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to—”
“My leg is fine.” Knox gritted his teeth, willing the words to be true. He didn’t like special treatment because of his leg. Just because he wasn’t going back to the Corps didn’t mean he’d slacked off with his rehab. The
leg wouldn’t get stronger if he didn’t challenge it. And if he didn’t get stronger, he wouldn’t be comfortable accepting Morales’ job offer. Stronger was better, period. He couldn’t join a security firm if he couldn’t hold his own.
Together, Lance and Knox lowered the orange-swirled Formica monstrosity to the floor. “If you say so. We’re due for a break anyway. Can I grab you a water?” Lance dusted his hands on the sides of his jeans, adding to the layers of powder and smears of paint already decorating them.
“Sure. Let me finish up here.” Something popped in Knox’s leg when he stood. He knew he didn’t so much as twitch, but somehow Lance knew and was at his side in a second.
Lance put an arm around Knox’s waist. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” Knox ground out the words, but as soon as he put weight on his bad leg, his body proved him to be a liar. His knee gave out, and he fell sideways, only Lance’s steady presence beside him keeping him off the floor.
“That is a strange definition of ‘okay.’” Lance kept one arm supporting Knox and used his other hand to wrestle his phone out of his pocket. The ridiculously overbuilt phone case made it a tight squeeze.
“Ambulance?” Lance stared at his screen, clearly unsure who to call.
“No. Gotta get to the VA. Help me to my car, and I can drive myself. Don’t need my left leg to drive.”
“You need it to get out of the car and into the clinic.” Lance’s fingers danced on the screen. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you.”
That was what Knox was afraid of. It was one thing to work side by side for months at a time, to chill in the hot tub, even knock back a few drinks with Grandpa William and Caleb on the regular. Lance at the VA, though? No, no way. He didn’t want his worlds overlapping like that, didn’t want his brother to see him as anything other than perfectly capable.
The shock of pain zinging up his leg said it didn’t matter what he wanted. He pushed knuckles into the injured thigh, gritted his teeth, and nodded. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted anyway.
* * *
The we turned out to be Carrie. Lance had muscled Knox to his work truck and broken several traffic laws on the way to VA, but he still didn’t beat Carrie to the parking lot. She waited for them at the front doors, hands on both her hips, her long, dark ponytail swinging in agitation.
Lance screeched to the curb, and Carrie opened the passenger door. When Knox lifted his foot, she put her hand up.
“Hold it right there, mister. We’re getting you a wheelchair.” She spun and marched through the doors.
“I don’t need a damn—”
“Don’t bother arguing.” Lance leaned against the open door, watching his wife storm the VA entrance. “She’s something, isn’t she? Really good in emergencies.”
Knox grunted his agreement, but the comment made him think of Danielle. She was good in a crisis, too. The way she’d known what to do with that puppy that couldn’t breathe. How calm she was when training her dogs. He couldn’t help but wish she were here now. Maybe it wouldn’t rankle so much to be in the wheelchair if it were her idea.
A short, round man in pale-green scrubs shot through the doors, wheelchair in front of him. It wasn’t fancy. No special features, just a seat, some handles, and two footholds. Knox resigned himself to being manhandled into the contraption.
This wasn’t like last time, he reminded himself. He’d be back on his feet before evening, not stuck in a rehab facility for months at a time. He just had to appease the worrywarts all around him for now.
But when Scrubs coached him from the truck down to the chair, his leg completely crumpled under him, and Knox hit the sidewalk. Hard.
Carrie let out a little screech, and Lance lunged to his side a split second too late to catch him.
“Dios mio.” Scrubs got hands under him and somehow levered him into the chair.
Knox felt the heat in his skin, the flush of embarrassment. He was fiercely glad that Danielle wasn’t here after all. He never wanted her to see him like this, which was why he muttered a few choice curse words of his own when he heard her sweet voice say, “Knox, what happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Knox grumbled. “You didn’t need to come.”
Danielle’s face blanched, her freckles standing out in stark relief.
“Of course she should’ve come. I asked her to.” Carrie looped her arm through Danielle’s. “I called her because I thought you’d want her here.”
“You thought wrong.” Knox knew he was being an ass. He heard the assness as it tumbled out of his mouth. Time to suck it up. He shouldn’t be such a whiny baby just because a girl he liked saw him with a boo-boo.
“I’ll go. Carrie said you needed a friend, but I guess she was wrong.” Danielle tried to pull away from Carrie, but Carrie kept a firm hand on her and glared at Knox.
“Danielle rushed here because I asked her to. Take the advice you gave me not too long ago. Don’t be an asshole.” Carrie’s long ponytail lashed behind her, an angry whip.
“You’re right.” Knox breathed out his anger in short bursts, the same kind of breathing he used for push-ups. Friends. The word still rankled, but it wasn’t inaccurate. He’d seen her a handful of times in the two weeks since the puppies were born, and she acted like the hug never happened, that she hadn’t asked him to stay. So he acted like he didn’t remember either. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Instead, they’d had more rooftop training sessions with Sarge, had fallen into the habit of sitting on one of the bone-shaped benches afterward and talking about their respective days. They were friends—even if the word made him grit his teeth when applied to her—and friends weren’t assholes. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll get you inside now.” Scrubs pushed the wheelchair toward the building. Knox turned his head, saw how Danielle’s eyes darted from the building to her car.
“Come on,” he said, giving in to the need to be near her, even in these less-than-ideal circumstances. “If you really don’t have anything better to do today than sit in a waiting room with me, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
A smile trembled on her lips, and he cursed himself for ever making her doubt that he wasn’t thrilled to see her. Any time. Anywhere. He wished he could blame his assholeness on the pain from his leg, but he’d grown used to the constant aches and throbs. Sure, today was on the extreme side, but it wasn’t anything like waking up after the explosion. Those memories wanted to flood his mind, so he closed his eyes, pushing them back with the memory of standing in his front yard with Danielle’s sweet lips on his. That had been a helluva kiss, maybe even worth waiting fifteen years for. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait another fifteen years to try again.
The doors whooshed open. There was paperwork; there were questions. He was whisked away to triage and whisked back almost as quickly. Another thing he’d gotten used to, the slow crawl of time in the VA waiting room. What he wasn’t used to, what he could hardly believe, was Danielle sitting next to him, her hand in his while she read a brochure about VA medical benefits. He rested the back of his head against the putty-colored wall and concentrated on the heat of Danielle next to him, the softness of her skin. The doctors could take all day as far as he was concerned. He hadn’t realized it this morning, swinging the sledgehammer with all his might, but this little oasis of calm was exactly what he needed.
* * *
Was Knox asleep? Danielle’s arm was numb from the awkward angle forced on her by the metal chair arms and her grip on Knox’s hand. She didn’t want to move, not when his face looked so peaceful. The tension that lined his mouth had softened. His eyes were closed, his dark lashes fanned down, and the sun-squint crinkles around his eyes were relaxed. Head tipped back against the wall, he held so still that she watched carefully for the rise and fall of his chest to prove he was breathing.
When Carrie’d texted her that Knox was hurt, Danie
lle hadn’t thought twice about walking out of her dad’s clinic and straight to her car. She knew Bridget could handle the front desk, and it had been a pretty light day anyway. It wouldn’t have mattered how many owners and animals filled the waiting room, though. When Carrie said to meet her at the VA, nothing would’ve stopped Danielle from hopping in her car. Because they were friends, she reminded herself. Good friends.
Poor Knox. He’d been in so much pain, snapping and snarling at everyone around him. He’d reminded her of Sarge when she’d first met him, so used to pain that he couldn’t imagine anything better for himself. Like she did with any dog in need, Danielle stayed calm and quiet, giving the animal a chance to acclimate. To understand she wasn’t here to hurt it. That she might even be able to help. Knox had responded the same way many dogs did, skeptical and standoffish at first. Then clingy. Not that Knox would ever admit it, but his unrelenting clasp on her hand, even in his relaxed state, told her more than words that he liked having her here.
Danielle turned in the chair, trying to find a better angle to restore blood flow back to her arm. No luck. No luck with maintaining her self-delusion that she was here as a friend, either. Seeing Knox in pain? All she wanted to do was curl up around him and hold on tight. After over two weeks of meeting up at the dog park for morning coffee, Danielle considered Carrie, Riley, Sydney, and Eliza friends, and she’d not once wanted to wrap her arms around any of them and never let go. Her finger traced the veins on the inside of Knox’s wrist. Not that they weren’t friends, but they were something more. But she kept the friendship shields high because pursuing anything more would end up breaking her heart. Again. Maybe even his, too, and he was already in enough pain. She’d never want to cause him more.
“Hey.” Knox’s rough voice brought her attention to his face. Eyes closed, his mouth stretching into a lazy smile. “I was thinking.”
“Thinking or snoring?” Suddenly, blood flow didn’t matter all that much. She was simply happy to feel the heat of his skin against hers.
