Wednesday Walks & Wags. Melissa Storm
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greeting each of them in turn.
The cats ignored her completely, having decided they no longer liked her much after she’d adopted her three rescue dogs. Never mind that she was the one who most often cleaned their litter boxes.
“Oh, Bridget. You’re here!” Her favorite vet, Dr. Kate Llewelyn, appeared from the back room and came to place a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Rough night?”
Apparently the extra coat of concealer hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. She put on her best smile, even though she hated hearing what essentially amounted to an observation that she looked like crap. “Just busy with the move,” she answered sweetly.
“Ready to do our part to curtail the pet overpopulation crisis?” Dr. Kate asked, lifting her hand from Bridget’s shoulder and using it to pantomime the snipping of scissors. “Or do you need some more coffee first?”
“Ready.”
“Good, because Napoleon is ready and waiting. C’mon.”
Bridget and Dr. Kate worked side by side throughout the morning, mostly keeping quiet as they each gave their all to the animal patients before them. As the tech, it was Bridget’s job to cart the animals back and forth from their kennels and the surgical room and to hand Dr. Kate the tools she needed. The exciting new task became second nature by the time they finished that morning’s surgeries.
“See?” Dr. Kate said brightly, pulling off her latex gloves and shoving them in the waste bin. “You’re a pro already.”
Bridget smiled at this. She loved helping animals and especially loved that not a thing had gone wrong with any of their patients that morning. She continued to smile as she floated out into the main waiting area of the clinic to grab a snack from the mini fridge kept at reception.
That was when she saw him for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours. Her mysterious jogging neighbor.
“Hey,” she called before she could stop herself.
He turned his full gaze toward her, his sky-blue eyes attempting to identify her but apparently coming up blank.
“I think we’re neighbors,” she explained, pushing a hand toward him. This caused the husky at his side to growl defensively.
She immediately pulled away, not afraid but knowing better than to mess with a distressed dog. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him. I was just saying I think I saw you the other night going for run. Hey, don’t you have another dog, too?”
He stared at her without speaking for a few beats before finally nodding and wiping his palm on the side of his pants. “I’m Wesley. And this is Beau. My other dog is Snow, and it probably was us you saw. We try to get out and run at least twice a day, if we can. Dusty Peak Apartments, right?”
“That’s the place.” Bridget accepted his hand when it was offered again. This time Beau remained quiet at his side.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. You must be new,” Wesley said thoughtfully. It looked as if he was still trying to figure her out, and that made her a bit nervous.
“Very new,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes on Beau as she spoke. “Just moved in yesterday.”
“Well, welcome. If you ever want to go for a run, you can find us in 106.” Even as he said the kind words, his face remained neutral at best, giving her the distinct impression that he didn’t mean a single one of them.
“Thanks. It’s nice to know someone there now.” Her smile lingered for lack of any idea what to say next.
Wesley turned away and cleared his throat. “I, um, don’t have a lot of time. Couldn’t get the boss to give me more than an hour for my break. Is the doctor ready to see us yet?”
“Yes, sorry. I’ll go get her.” Bridget shook her head but still felt fuzzy and vaguely confused by the encounter.
By the time she returned with Dr. Kate at her side, Wesley and Beau had already been settled into one of the exam rooms.
So now she knew one of the neighbors, but she hadn’t the slightest idea whether he liked her. Maybe he was just shy, or maybe he was weird with everyone. Maybe Bridget reminded him of someone he’d once known.
Not that it mattered. Not really.
Bridget didn’t plan on making any new friends, and she always preferred life when it went to plan.
Chapter 4
Bridget returned home to torn cardboard scattered from one end of the apartment to the other. All three dogs came running to greet her at the door. Her rottweiler Rosco clutched a torn-up box corner between his teeth and wagged his stub in a happy blur. Her pets had never been this destructive at her father’s house, where she’d stayed after she was kicked out of her last apartment. But he’d also forced her to keep them confined to her room whenever she left home.
Like her, they just needed some time to adjust.
At least she hoped that was the case for all of their sakes.
Being rescues, both of her larger dogs came with some behavioral issues—chief among them, separation anxiety—as evidenced by that evening’s messy display.
After petting them each hello, she grabbed one of the few undamaged boxes that remained and set to picking up the scraps. The dogs followed her while she worked, hoping she’d change her mind about cleaning up and would start a game of fetch or tug instead.
At least she’d already unpacked everything she’d brought with her. She didn’t need the leftover boxes, anyway. If they’d kept her dogs entertained during her long shift that day, then all the better.
But what might they destroy tomorrow?
There wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced, except . . .
Her heart sped to a crazy gallop the moment the horrible thought crossed her mind. Her legs jerked to life and carried her quickly across the apartment. What had she been thinking, leaving the bedroom open all day?
Falling to the floor, she grabbed her mother’s box from the back corner of the closet. Relief surged through her at once. She’d been so stupid. What would she have done if it wasn’t there? If she’d forever lost the last of her mother’s things?
Thankfully, both the box and its contents had survived the cardboard massacre. To be safe, she hoisted the precious yet dreaded package to the top shelf of her closet, where she knew no dog could ever reach it. Unfortunately, because of the sloped ceiling of the room, she was now unable to close the closet door, and that meant she’d have to see the wretched thing every time she came to or from her bedroom.
Maybe she could sneak it back into her dad’s house or convince one of the girls to take it off her hands for a while.
But then she’d have to talk about it, and talking was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d had more than enough time to cope with her mother’s death, known it was coming for years. They’d shared heartfelt goodbyes and even worked on a bucket list together. They’d worked about a third of the way through the items on the list before her mother became too sick to continue.
The partially completed list was in that box, too. Forever frozen between their last completed item (Count the stars) and the one that came after it (Complete a charity race). In fact, they’d already registered for their race and raised funds, but then they had to cancel when her mother became too weak to leave the house.
Bridget had begged and pleaded for her mom to join her in a wheelchair, but she’d flat-out refused. Instead she’d closed the notebook where they’d recorded so many of their adventures together and told her daughter that they’d finished as much as they could in the time God had given her.
And that was it.
She died less than two weeks later.
Bridget