But this was a puppy. A two-month-old puppy that some monster had dumped on the side of the road in a freaking black garbage bag along with his siblings and without their mother—left to die of starvation, the elements, or to be picked off by predators.
When rescuers had gotten there, two of the others had already died. They had brought the other two to us. The oldest—and by far the biggest, the strongest—had taken well to treatment, was getting good and fat, and was already back at the rescue, waiting for his forever family to find him and take him in and spoil him for the rest of his life.
The other—the skinny runt of the litter that had somehow survived, likely because he'd been wedged under the warmth of his bigger sibling—had been holding on by a thread. I'd pulled double shifts for a week trying to nurse him back to life, making endless calls home to my mother who had worked animal rehabilitation for her whole life.
But nothing worked.
Every day, despite my best efforts, just seemed to bring him closer and closer to the brink while he lay there in misery, letting out sad little whimpers of defeat.
I knew it was time, that there was no future for him, that trying to force him to hang on when he was in pain and deteriorating fast was cruel.
The decision had to be made.
No matter how awful it was.
And fifteen minutes before, in my arms, he'd taken his last gasping breath.
I felt like a part of me died with him.
I felt like someone had pulled out my heart and kneaded it between their hands.
I wasn't sure it could ever feel not-bruised again.
"Nadine, why is no one..." Dr. Shepherd, my superior, my idol, the woman who ran this office with a diplomatic hand and a warm heart, started, moving inward, her low heels clicking on the linoleum floor as she moved in beside Nadine. She was in her forties with a stunning face, curly copper hair that always got compliments from strangers, and striking bright blue eyes. "Oh," she said. The word was a sighing, defeated sound.
They all knew.
I couldn't do this.
I wasn't cut out for this.
All those years of my life slaving away at school were a waste of time and resources. My parents might as well have taken the giant stack of cash they'd put toward my education and burned it since there seemed to be no future for me in this field.
"Nadine, can we have a minute?" Dr. Shepherd asked, getting a nod from Nadine who happily left her boss to deal with me. "The puppy?" she asked, moving to sit down on the floor in front of me.
"Yeah."
"You tried absolutely everything in your power," she told me.
"I know. But what good am I if I can't save animals who need saving?"
"We can't save them all, honey. No one can. Not even if you had a lifetime of experience. There are some animals that come to us too far gone. I know you know this."
I did.
But how could I explain to her that the facts didn't matter?
It still hurt.
"Nadine is sick of me."
"Nadine has been here a long time. She's become a little more hardened."
"I don't want to be hardened," I admitted.
"I'm starting to see that," Dr. Shepherd agreed, putting a hand on my knee. "And I think it is admirable to feel so deeply, but I'm not sure it will make for a satisfying career or work environment."
"I understand," I told her, reaching up to swat away an errant tear. "I will pack my things."
"What will you do?" she asked, a good woman, a caring person. She didn't like the idea of me having to go and start over even if my presence at her hospital was toxic.
"I... I guess I will go home," I told her, the idea coming to me out of nowhere.
I loved Navesink Bank. My whole family was there, my friends, all my childhood memories. But after so many years away at college, it had been somewhat easy to stay away, to get a job close to where I had already been living for so long.
I didn't really consider going back. At least not in a full-time sort of way.
But my job was finished here.
My lease was up at the end of the month.
It all seemed to line up at once.
Like the universe was pointing me home.
It should have felt like defeat to head back after so many years on my own, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, the rightness of it was undeniable.
I had no idea if the local vet offices would be hiring, if they would be more tolerant of my emotional response to losing animals, if I would have some sort of income to fall back on.
But thanks to my loving, generous parents, I wasn't in debt. I had been working on the side of school for six and a half years. I had a little nest egg that I could use to start over if I got there and felt cramped by my childhood home.
My parents would love to have me.
My mom would like the help with all the various animals she was always caring for, both permanent and temporary fixtures in her life.
It was the right move.
I was going home.
I could figure it all out from there, I was sure.
"That sounds like a great idea. Maybe you just needed a little break between school and work. I remember how hard those years were. You've got to be exhausted from all this work."
She wasn't wrong.
I hadn't let myself feel it until that moment. But, God, I was so tired. It was an ache in my bones it was so acute.
I needed to rest, to recoup.
What better place to do that than home?
"Thank you for the opportunity to work here," I told Dr. Shepherd as I packed my things, giving the animals that had been in my care one last look, then making my way to the door.
By the time I got back to my sad little apartment, excitement was pinging off every nerve ending. After a walk with Nugget, I went straight to the local grocery store, begging for their boxes, then headed back home to start packing.
"We're going home, buddy!" I told Nugget, who had no idea what I was saying, but was happy to latch onto my excitement. "You can go hang out with all the other doggies. No more sitting at home alone waiting for your dog walker and me. That sounds good, yeah? And you know who else you will get to see?" I asked, heart warming even further. "Niro! You miss him, don't you? He was your daddy for so long. Really, you're probably more his than mine, but he is going to be so happy to see you."
I never fully forgave myself for taking Nugget back after all those years. It was a constant worry that crossed my mind in the quiet moments before sleep, creating this swirling belly ache that stuck with me until unconsciousness finally claimed me.
I never regretted having him hold onto Nugget, of course. He'd been the one to save him from that raging river that I had fallen into with my attempt, knocking my head against a rock. After saving me, he went back to save Nugget. So Nuggs was every bit Niro's as he was mine. He was the right one to hold onto him while I was away at school, even if my mother was the more obvious choice given her home full of animals—including half a dozen doggy friends Nugget could play with. Nugget was used to hanging out with Niro and me.
I was a bad dog mom to keep Nugget away from him for so long after bringing him to New York with me. I knew enough about animals to know they felt that kind of loss. But life changed so much and so quickly for both myself and Niro. We just didn't cross paths as much as we used to.
His absence was a hole in my soul that I tried to fill with other things. Oftentimes unsuccessfully, even if I would tell myself the superficial friendships I tried to foster were good enough, were just what I needed, that I didn't have the time for soul-level connections anymore.
I wasn't even sure, at this point, when the last time I saw Niro face-to-face was. A year before? At a Christmas party at the biker compound my father and he both belonged to? We'd shared cold, indifferent, chin jerks from across the room. His arm had been slung across the shoulder of a woman in a dress that made me feel constricted in my loose sweater it was so
tight, her voluptuous body nearly spilling out in all kinds of enticing ways.
I didn't know Niro's type. He'd never dated much when I'd been in town. But I guess it was of the pin-up variety.
Why that had made my stomach clench when I saw it was beyond me. I was happy he was happy. Right?
Maybe I wasn't because a part of me was sure there was no happiness in his eyes. True, he'd never been the most light-hearted guy around, but I found he often smiled when we were talking, the joy going right up into those dark eyes of his.
There was none of that to be found in the clubhouse.
I should have gone over, asked if he was aright. But that unknown woman with her very nice figure and her very pretty face had stood in the way of me doing so for some reason.
That, and the fact that I felt awkward even thinking of going over there. What kind of conversation starter could you have with someone who used to be your best friend, but wasn't anymore?
Hey, aren't these oatmeal cookies the best?
No.
That wasn't good enough.
Not when trying to talk to someone who had most of my memories in his hands.
But I couldn't quite find the nerve to walk up to him with the words I truly wanted to say.
I'm sorry.
I don't know what happened.
Can we try to go back to how things were before?
What happened to us?
I'd never found those words. Or any words. I had a coward's tongue.
I regretted it often since that day.
Well, I had all the time in the world now to try to reconnect, make amends for my crummy friendship attempts.
At the thought, though, a strange, unsettling, completely unexpected nervousness started to swirl around my belly.
At seeing Niro?
My oldest friend in the whole world?
The one person I told all my shameful little secrets to?
It made no sense.
But there was no denying its existence either.
I was nervous to see Niro again.
It was in the strange weight pressing down on my chest, the tightness around my throat, the pounding of my pulse.
But if I was going home, a reunion was inevitable.
It would be just like old times once we got the distance out of the way.
Right?
Chapter Two
Andi
Navesink Bank was a unique place to grow up. Not because it was, essentially, run by the local mafia, MC, and various other big—or small—time criminal empires. Not because I was part of that underworld since my father was an outlaw biker. Not because all my friends had been the offspring of the various crime lords of the area.
Though all of that added a little extra flair to the town, I was sure, since we were our own sort of community in and of ourselves. It was hard to foster friendships or relationships in the town with people who hadn't grown up with outlaw parents. The other people simply couldn't relate to some of the aspects of our lives. And we could never really share everything with them since it would become a matter of safety and security for our loved ones.
But all that said, Navesink Bank was just such an interesting place.
There were sprawling green lawn mansions on the Navesink River where old money and new mingled in their shared sort of privileged lifestyles. But those rich neighborhoods butted right up to quiet suburbs where everyone had less than a quarter-acre of property that was usually speckled with above-ground pools, trampolines, and swing sets. A place where there were barbecues all summer long, the smell of hotdogs and hamburgers constantly carrying on the wind.
From the middle-class suburbs, you were led into a bustling small town full of mom & pop stores and restaurants.
Lastly, there was the sort of bad area of town that I had never been daring enough to venture around, not even with Niro at my side, knowing it was run by the local street gangs, and believing my father when he told me it was not safe for me to go, not even with the protection of his reputation of a member of the Henchmen MC to shield me.
I had always enjoyed the diversity of lifestyles, the way I could be on the beach in just a few minutes, could roll out a towel, slather on some sunscreen, and enjoy a mini-vacation, then still be able to make it home for dinner. But the beach wasn't the only natural wonder in an area that was framed in farmlands.
I had spent many a summer in my youth at a peach orchard, picking downy, ripe peaches off the tree, eating half a dozen of them before even making it out front again.
In the fall, we would all pack up and go to another farm where we picked apples, or took a hayride through the woods where we would be chased by actors wearing horror costumes and carrying actual chainsaws. I was a chicken at heart, but Niro had always managed to convince me to go, laughing when I screamed and clung to him even though I knew that nothing was actually going to happen to me.
Navesink Bank was the biggest small town in all of New Jersey. Which meant there were a lot of people, but without ever feeling crowded or disconnected, without actually losing that personal touch that came with familiar faces all around.
On top of all of that, pretty much everyone I knew and loved was there. Even friends that had gone off to college had long-since gone back, missing their family, their friends, that old way of life that had always been so appealing to all of us.
There was nowhere else in the world like it.
Sure, I knew why I had left in the first place.
The college I needed to get my veterinarian degree from wasn't in Navesink Bank.
I couldn't, though, as I drove back into town, figure out why I had stayed away. When so much of myself was here, with these sights, with these sounds, with these people.
My parents lived in a more rural part of the suburbs in an old Victorian that had been in my mother's family for generations. There was a sprawling garden out back, and a multitude of animals hanging around on any given day.
As I drove up, I spotted a couple of Silkie chickens pecking at the weeds in the front flowerbed. A tortoise was making his slow way up the drive. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn't get out of my way in time, so I parked on the street, grabbing Nugget's leash and my smallest bag, then headed up the front path, anticipation bubbling up inside.
"There's my girl," my father greeted, giving me the warm smile he reserved only for my mother and me, wrapping me up against his assuring arms. "Happy to have you home," he added, pulling me in as the dogs became aware of my presence, yipping and running and attacking me and Nuggs with love. "Mom is out back collecting... some shit or another," he said, waving a hand, having given up on trying to remember all my mom's little herbal remedy ingredients long ago.
"I'll go help her with that...stuff." Yes, stuff. I never could get comfortable cursing in front of my parents. Who was I kidding? I never cursed much to begin with.
I moved through the house, stopping to coo at the four-day-old kittens in a pen in the kitchen along with their very tired-looking mom. Apparently, the mama had been a stray with a wicked dental infection and removed dewclaws who would never have survived on her own. Some heartless owner who hadn't taken the time to spay her had likely just kicked her out when she became pregnant instead of doing the right thing.
My mom was where I learned my love of animals. I'd helped her wean and nurture young babies, was taught by her side as she rehabilitated strays so they could find forever homes. I'd helped her mend wild animals then set them free since I was still a baby myself. I had many little scars to prove it.
I also learned at her apron strings how to create my own custom herbal teas for any sort of malady. Peppermint for bellyaches. Raspberry leaf and nettle for lady issues. Chamomile, lavender, and passionfruit for anxiety. Ginger, echinacea, elderberry, and green tea for colds. My mom's teas had gotten me through every malady I'd ever suffered.
I guess I had been away so long that I forgot what it was like to be around people like my mother who shared my common interest
in animals, in plants, in the ways of old. Coming home felt like pieces of myself that had floated away little by little over the years were coming back together, making me whole again.
I found my mother where my father said she would be—bent over a raised bed overflowing with chamomile plants, snipping off the flowers, and putting them into a white enamel basket I'd gotten her for her birthday when I was a teenager. I had a feeling a restock of my depleted chamomile tea stock was on my way soon. I'd started going through so much of it because of the stresses of school and then work that she'd told me she planted an extra bed full of the annuals just so she could try to keep me calm from several hours away.
My mother had always been a soft sort of pretty with her light blonde hair and delicate face. We looked a lot alike, bone structure-wise, though I'd gotten a softer jaw and higher cheekbones. I'd inherited the blonde hair from both my parents, my dad's blue eyes, and my mom's love of all things wild.
"Hey, honey," she called, looking up, beaming at me. "I lost track of time, huh?" she asked, as if that wasn't her natural state of being—lost in her own sense of time.
"I just got here."
"I wanted to get some fresh chamomile. I figured you might be a little stressed out about all the changes lately."
"I'm actually pretty peaceful about it. I don't think I realized how much I missed it here until I realized it was possible to come back."
"We would have always been happy to have you back," she assured me, climbing out of the garden. "But we're happy to have you now. Your father spent the whole morning scrubbing your old room and going out to get Nugget a new bed and toys. It was sweet. He's probably already unpacking your car. How are you feeling?" she asked, linking her arm through mine, guiding us around a kiddie pool where a mama duck and her four babies were swimming. "With everything," she clarified.
"I am disappointed in myself," I admitted. "I wanted that job so badly. I guess I just wasn't prepared for that one part. I should have been, of course. It was just hard. With a puppy, you know?"
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