by Megan Green
“And what causes that?”
I throw my hands up. “Nobody knows. What causes any autoimmune disease? Sometimes, your body just does weird things.”
“Dogs can get autoimmune diseases?”
I nod. “Yep. And unfortunately, since they can’t tell anyone they don’t feel good, they usually go untreated until it becomes a problem. And by then, well … sometimes, there’s nothing we can do.”
“You’re saying she’s going to die?” Mason asks, his voice becoming slightly husky as he looks at his daughter as she whispers to the dog.
“No!” Hannah shouts, clearly not as absorbed by the dog as we originally thought. “Daddy! We can’t let her die!”
“Hannah, we just—”
“No, Daddy! We have to do something.”
Mason looks to me for help. A brief sense of hope flashes through me at Hannah’s reaction.
“We’re not entirely out of options. She needs another infusion. Unfortunately, I don’t have the funds to be able to provide one on my own.”
Mason looks back at Hannah and the dog. “How much?”
“A few thousand after all the blood work and follow-up involved.”
He winces a little at that. “And do you think it’ll help?”
I turn to him, looking him straight in the eye without any sort of animosity or anger since the moment he walked back into my life. “I can’t say for sure. There’s no guarantee that her body won’t reject it and revert right back to where it’s at. But I do know that, without it, she’ll die.”
Mason ponders my words for a second, his eyes never leaving his daughter. When a stray tear rolls down Hannah’s cheek and lands on the dog’s fur, he cracks.
“Do it. I’ll cover whatever it costs.”
Warmth washes over me at his words, the relief in my belly so palpable that I can practically taste it. But I have to make sure he knows exactly what he’s getting into.
“Are you sure? Even if we can get her levels out of the critical range, IMHA is a long, frustrating disease. It’s months of medication, follow-up visits, blood work. It’s not cheap.”
Mason finally breaks his gaze from his daughter, swallowing hard as he turns to me. “I understand. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that little girl. And right now, this is what she needs. I promise I’m good for the cash. I’ve been smart the last few years, and I have managed to stash a decent little nest egg away. It’ll be worth tapping into if it means making my daughter happy.”
His words pierce my heart, the truth and integrity of them so raw and irrefutable. A little piece of the resentment I’ve harbored toward him all these years chips away at the love he so visibly feels for his daughter.
“You’re a good father, Mason,” I say without a second thought.
He gives me a small half-smile, his cheeks flushing slightly at my compliment. “Thanks, Maddy. That means a lot.”
I clap my hands together, trying to shake off the seriousness that’s overtaken the room. “Okay then. First things first. If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, I need to know what to call this sweet little girl,” I say, stepping away from Mason and joining Hannah at the dog’s side. “Hannah, do you have any ideas?”
Hannah’s little brow wrinkles as she looks down at the small black dog on the table, her nose scrunching as she concentrates. “How about Hope?”
I smile down at the little girl. “Hope is perfect.”
I let Hannah and Mason have a few minutes alone with her before I tell them it’s time to take her back. Now that we have the go-ahead, I need to call the specialist’s office in Billings and ask if I can rush over some samples of her blood to confirm my suspected diagnosis. And get that next transfusion started.
Cami comes and collects Hope, and I walk Mason and Hannah to the door. After promising Hannah—pinkies and all—that I would call the second we have any updates, I watch as she opens the front door and skips out to the rear passenger seat of their car.
“So”—Mason’s voice comes from beside me—“I guess this means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
I turn and face him, my stomach dropping with the realization of his words.
“Guess so,” is all I manage to say.
“See you soon, Maddy,” he says with a smile, pushing open the door and striding across the parking lot to his daughter.
I turn and walk straight to my office, closing the door and pressing my forehead against it.
What in the hell was I thinking?
I can’t do this. I can’t see Mason Cooper almost every day for weeks … months even. My head—and my heart—can’t take it.
A list of all the possible vets in the area who could take over Hope’s care runs through my head. It would make my life a million times easier to pass her off to someone else. Let somebody else deal with Mason and all the drama that comes with him.
But even as I think the words, I know I’ll never do it. I’m too invested. In the dog and the little girl who loves her.
I can do this. I will do this. Mason Cooper will no longer have any sort of control over my life.
Besides, it’s not like I’m seventeen years old with a crush anymore.
A relationship with Mason is the absolute last thing I want in my life now.
I repeat the words over and over in my head as I walk back to join Cami, hoping that if I say them enough, they might stick.
7
Mason
“Up another five points today!” Maddy announces with a beaming smile as she enters the exam room.
Hannah jumps up from the seat next to me, shaking her little bum and throwing her arms up in the air in celebration. Maddy pumps her arms up and down a few times along with her, both of them doing their own form of a happy dance.
Hope lifts her head from where she rests in my lap, giving me a look that says, Do we have to do this every time?
I chuckle softly and pat her on the head. It’s been a week since I agreed to take over the cost of the dog’s care and two nights since Maddy released her to come home with us. We’ve been back here every day since, checking to make sure Hope’s red cell counts continue trending upward. She’s not out of the woods yet, but she’s no longer critical. Maddy says she has faith that, with as good as things have been going, we should be able to begin tapering her off her meds in a few months.
And oh my God, the meds this dog is on. I had no clue they made so many different dog medications, period, let alone for one disease. And the side effects of those meds only make her need more meds. I need a list by my side every time it’s time for her next dose because I can’t keep them all straight.
I scratch behind her ears, and she shifts, so her head nestles into my body. “It’s lucky you’re so dang cute,” I mumble, knowing damn well that this dog has managed to wrap me around her little finger—er, paw—in only two days.
I’m smitten.
Maddy and Hannah finish their dance, and Hannah falls to her knees and squeezes Hope’s face in her hands. “Did you hear that, girl? Five more points today! That’s two more than yesterday!”
Hope jumps down from my lap, giving Hannah a big lick as her tail wags enthusiastically. She’s still not one hundred percent yet, and she tires easily, but it’s night and day compared to when we thought we might lose her. She slowly trots over to Maddy next, lifting her front paws up against Maddy’s leg as she waits for her to bend down and pet her.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart. You scared us pretty bad there for a minute.”
Hope wags her tail as Maddy speaks to her, her head cocked to the side and her mouth open in an adorable puppy grin. Maddy’s lips spread into a wide smile in response before her eyes finally lift to mine.
“You know, I sort of miss having this little girl around here. If you want, I can keep her a few more days. Save you from having to bring her in every day.”
Hannah’s face whips around to me in a panic. “No, Daddy!”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I say with a laugh. “Hope’s not going anywhere.” I turn back to Maddy. “It’s no trouble, bringing her in. We live over on Washington, in those older townhomes. Only takes a few minutes to swing by after school. Or like now, on a weekend.”
Maddy nods. “I drive past there on my way to Kent’s Market. That’s a nice area.”
I find myself nodding back at her. “It is. And there’s a little fenced-in area Hannah and Hope can play in when she’s feeling better.”
“Yeah, Dr. Maddy! It’s so awesome! There’s a slide and some swings, too. Don’t worry though. I won’t try to put Hope in the swings. I know if she falls, she could get hurt. And that could cause her IAHM to be bad again.”
Maddy smiles at Hannah, reaching over and ruffling her hair. “IMHA,” she corrects but not in the typical condescending way most adults speak to children.
No, Maddy has done nothing but impress me with her interactions with my daughter over the last week.
Hannah can be a lot for anyone to handle, especially for someone who doesn’t have a lot of experience with children. I was worried that Maddy might get overwhelmed by all of Hannah’s questions those first few days—my daughter is a never-ending well of curiosity.
But she took it all in stride, showing Hannah the ins and outs of her day-to-day job, letting her listen to the stethoscope and talking her through the process of the blood draws. Hannah watched her every move with wonder and awe, as if Maddy were curing cancer instead of caring for her sick dog.
Maddy turns and smiles at me as Hannah launches into a tale of the adventures she and Hope are going to go on as soon as she gets better. I can’t help but smile back, a certain comfort settling over me as I watch the two of them together.
I was worried things between Maddy and me would be tense, like they had been during our initial interactions. But the day after I told her to go ahead with the transfusion, it was like a switch had been flipped inside her. She no longer glares at me whenever I enter the room, even going as far as actually greeting me on a few occasions instead of acting like I’m the bane of her existence.
A few times, I’ve sensed I make her uncomfortable. Times when her body has stiffened at my proximity, her words halting and terse as she tries to create some distance. But I’ve found that by simply taking a few steps back, it helps ease the tension in the room. Now, I’m always careful to keep a certain amount of space between us at all times.
It’s not lost on me that it’s my physical closeness that elicits this reaction in her. And it’s also not lost that even though I do everything I can to make her more comfortable at the time, a part of me loves when I feel those hackles rise. A part that wants to push her, to see how far I can take it. See just how close she’ll let me get.
The thought causes a jolt of awareness to pass through me.
What in the fuck am I doing?
This is Maddy Woods I’m talking about here. The girl I used to consider my best friend. The girl who cut me out of her life without a word. Well, the first girl to cut me out …
It doesn’t matter how attractive she is. Or how my body seems to respond to hers against my better judgment. It doesn’t matter how fantastic she is with Hannah.
All that matters is that little girl there on the floor, the one giggling as her dog prances around her, trying to grab the treat from her hand. The sound of those giggles reminds me that the only thing I care about is her happiness.
And she’s perfectly happy with the way things are.
Do I wish she could grow up with a mother figure in her life? Of course. While all her classmates get to have their mothers join them for presentations and school plays, Hannah only gets me. I’m not the only father who shows up to all the preschool functions. But I am the only single father.
Seeing her with Maddy, seeing the way she watches her, copies her movements … it breaks my heart that she’s never had that with her own mother. That Stephanie was too selfish to stick around and raise our little girl. That she’s never had the joy of hearing Hannah’s laugh as she races up and throws her arms around her neck after school, immediately launching into every detail of her day.
Hannah has missed out on all of that because of Stephanie’s choices. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to risk breaking her heart by letting Maddy into our lives, only to have her walk out like she did before.
I climb to my feet, bending over and picking up Hope. Maddy’s eyes briefly flash to mine in question, but I ignore it.
“Come on, Hannah. It’s time to get going.”
I grab her hand and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance.
“So then, Liam says to him, ‘If you can’t take the heat, kid, then stay the fuck out of the flames,’ ” Reese says with a laugh, a few specks of food spraying from his mouth and onto the table in front of him. “I’ve never seen a rookie look so damn green.”
I eye the food on the table, flicking my gaze up to his and then back down with a disgusted sneer. Reese rolls his eyes at my gesture before reaching out his napkin and wiping away the offending debris.
“Come on, man. That was funny!” Reese says, obviously frustrated with my lack of response to the antics of the guys down at the fire house.
I shrug. “Guess you had to be there.”
Reese, my best friend and former brother in battle, scoffs at my indifference. Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest and gives me an assessing look. “What’s with you, bro? Normally, you’d be laughing your ass off at a rook getting a little too close for comfort and singeing his nose hairs. What gives?”
I’m still on edge from my earlier realization that I’m attracted to my long-lost friend. All day long, I’ve been trying to get Maddy out of my mind, trying to think of anything but the woman who so suddenly walked back into my life. So far, I’ve failed miserably. Every single time I let my guard down, the image of her smile as she laughed with Hannah sneaks right back into the forefront of my brain.
I don’t want to tell Reese that though. If he even suspects that I might be remotely interested in a woman, I’ll never hear the end of it. The asshole is more obsessed with getting my rocks off than his own. He claims it’s not healthy for a man to get laid as infrequently as I do.
I wave him off. “Nothing, just tired. Been up with Hannah’s new dog a lot the last few days.”
Reese nods. “Oh, yeah. How’s that going? My darling goddaughter still over the moon about her?”
I roll my eyes. I never should’ve made the mistake of asking Reese to be the one to take care of my baby girl should something ever happen to me. Not because I don’t think he wouldn’t do anything to ensure her happiness. If there’s anyone in this world whose love for Hannah even comes close to rivaling my own, it’s Reese Lawson.
No, the only reason I regret it is because the fucker never lets me forget that she’s his goddaughter. Not a single conversation goes by where he doesn’t bring it up, acting like he somehow had some role in her creation.
The guy drives me completely crazy, and ninety percent of the time, I ask myself how we’ve managed to stay friends for so long.
But that other ten percent …
Well, that other part of Reese is the reason I trust him more than anybody else in the world.
There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for the people he loves. He’s not quick to give away his devotion and respect. But once you’ve got it, you’ve got it for life. And there’s nobody better to have in your corner than Reese Lawson.
Of course, he chooses that moment to belch and start cackling like a twelve-year-old, completely ruining any semblance of affection I might’ve been feeling for the dumbass.
“You ever gonna grow up?” I ask, shaking my head as the people at the table next to us turn to stare at the person with such awful manners.
Reese grins. “Nope. I greatly prefer keeping my boyish charm.”
He cheeses at me, and despite my annoyance, I can’t help but laugh.
“You call it charm. I call it never-ending obnoxiousness.”
“Same diff. Anyway … answer my question. How’s Hannah and the mutt?”
“Her name is Hope. And they’re good. Hannah is head over heels in love, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Hope follows her around like … well, like a little, lost puppy dog. They’re inseparable.”
Reese nods. “Good. It’s good for a kid to have a dog. I had one growing up, and he was my best bud. I still miss the fuck out of that little furball.”
I met Reese when we both enrolled in the fire academy at nineteen. As the youngest two in the group, we sort of bonded over our shared inexperience and general naivety. By the time we graduated, we were thick as thieves, the hours and hours of training and hard work solidifying the closeness between us.
But in all the years I’ve known Reese, I could count on one hand the number of times he’s brought up his past. I know his dad left when he was just a kid, and his mom worked a lot in order for them to get by. But anytime I try to get more out of him, he clams up tighter than a nun’s asshole.
“I didn’t know that,” I say, hoping it’s enough to spur him on but not too much to pull him out of his memory.
Reese’s eyes glaze over, a half-smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he gets lost in his thoughts.
The moment is over almost as soon as it started, however, a crash from behind us breaking the spell. Reese shakes his head a little as he’s pulled from his mind and back to the restaurant. His eyes move to the waiter who just dropped a tray of dirty dishes, and he gives me a lopsided grin.
“Poor asshole.”
Knowing the opportunity is lost, I don’t even bother trying to ask him about his childhood pet. “Hannah wants to know when you’re going to come meet Hope.”
Reese thoughtfully taps his chin. “It has been far too long since I’ve seen my goddaughter. I’m having Nana withdrawals.”
I can’t help it. My eyes roll again.
Which is exactly the reaction Reese was going for, a smug grin settling on his face.