Cari Lynn - Single Dad To The Rescue

Sure, they’d found Ben pretty quickly. But the outcome could have been so much more tragic. Dan had a mental list of such events. Following a schedule kept life predictable like he preferred. Like he relied on to keep Ben safe. Why would he want to change things and risk disrupting the life he’d built? The life he liked.

One stop at the drugstore to replenish the Band-Aid stock for the school nurse, Dan ran through his schedule and pulled into his driveway. He had time to return those phone calls, take a nap, then finish his errands.

The dark-haired woman rushing toward him had him slamming the truck into Park. The blood staining her light blue sweatshirt had him jumping out of the truck. Brooke.

A quick assessment of Brooke from head to toe confirmed the source of the blood was the bundle she cradled. Dan moved toward her. “What happened?”

“It’s Archie.” She adjusted the towel around the cat and revealed a bandage saturated with blood on the animal’s stomach. “Can you help us?”

Blood matted Archie’s entire belly. Dan suddenly noticed the cat’s eye had been stitched closed and his left ear was missing completely. How was this cat going to survive the drive to the vet’s office? Dan clamped his teeth together to keep his negativity to himself.

Brooke covered the cat, the resolve in her voice strong. “Archie has survived worse than this.”

Perhaps. Still, Dan wondered how many lives Archie had left. He glanced at Brooke. Fear paled her skin, but a determination crackled in her deep brown eyes. What, beyond the wildfire, had Brooke survived? He pulled his keys from his pocket and hurried to open the passenger door. “I know where to go.”

“Is it close?” Concern rattled through her words, shifting her voice into a breathless wheeze. “Is the vet’s office near Bayview and State?”

“Less than six blocks away from that area.” Dan set his hand on her lower back to guide her into the truck. He added, “I know how to get around the city quickly and avoid people-congested areas like that one.”

Brooke dropped into the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on Archie. A tremor curled through her hands before she buried her fingers in the towel around the cat.

Dan reached for the extra towel he kept on the back seat. “It’s clean. My son, however, isn’t always clean and has a habit of spilling whatever he’s drinking.”

Brooke lifted Archie. The tremor returned. Somehow, she looked even more fragile and even more lost inside his truck.

Dan worked faster, spreading the towel across her lap. He opened his well-stocked first-aid kit and pressed a stack of extra large gauze pads onto Archie’s stomach. “Don’t let up on the pressure. Sophie’s place isn’t too far.”

Dan rushed around to the driver’s side and started the truck.

“Archie wouldn’t get into the crate with his cone on when the evacuation order came. I took it off.” Brooke adjusted Archie on her lap, drawing out a pathetic meow that matched the anguish in her voice. “We had to leave.”

She wouldn’t have left her pets behind—that much he knew. Only the rhythmic click of the turn signal disrupted the somber silence.

“I should’ve put the cone back on yesterday. I made him a recovery area. Figured he’d leave his stiches alone,” she added.

The misery in her voice settled on Dan’s shoulders. He accepted the weight, accelerated around a car and reminded himself Brooke needed him for transport, nothing else.

“Your dad brought Luna back after their walk.” Brooke’s words continued to spill out as if there was solace in the confession. “I jumped into the shower and came out to find Luna in the recovery area and blood all over. I’ll clean up the apartment.”

“Let’s get Archie help, then worry about that,” Dan said.

“I don’t know what we would’ve done without your dad bringing us here,” she said. “Or now you.”

The wisp of gratitude in her voice tangled in his gut, making his own breath catch. He wanted her out of his place as soon as possible, didn’t he? He reached over, touched Archie’s small head rather than holding Brooke’s hand to offer her reassurance.

And recalculated the fastest route to Sophie’s store and his misplaced feelings for his tenant.

He never considered he’d ever transport a seriously injured animal. But he was trained to help those in need. He’d rescued animals from the wildfires with his father over the years, but he’d only ever reunited those animals with their owners and walked away to continue fighting the fire. He looked over at Brooke.

She wouldn’t be easy to walk away from. That thought he trampled into a dark corner, somewhere back behind his routine, and concentrated on driving.

* * *

BROOKE CONCENTRATED ON Archie and avoided looking out the truck windows. This time she was inside the vehicle, she reminded herself, not watching a large van barrel toward her. She had to stay focused, be in the moment. Archie was her priority.

“Sophie’s place is up here, just around this corner.” Dan parked the truck in a loading zone and jumped out onto the street. He helped Brooke onto the sidewalk, swung open the front door to The Pampered Pooch and shouted, “Sophie, it’s an emergency. We need you now.”

Dan guided Brooke ahead of him, shielding her from the busy sidewalk and gaping storefront windows. And then she was inside, Dan and her fears bracketing her on either side. The city loomed outside. Archie was lying limp in her arms.

A woman, her blond hair tied back in a ponytail, sprinted down the center aisle. “Dan, what’s wrong?”

Dan pointed at the bundled cat. “Archie needs your expertise.”

The woman skidded to a halt and gasped at the injured cat. “Upstairs. Follow me.”

She led them outside to a wide staircase. On the second-floor landing, she pulled out a set of keys from her back pocket, pushed open the old wooden door and motioned them inside.

A deep male voice echoed down the hallway. “Sophie Callahan, that’s an emergency exit, not your private entrance. There are landlord-lessee rules and a code of conduct, you know.”

“Iain, we don’t have time for that. You have an emergency patient,” Sophie called back.

She led them into an examination room, complete with a stainless-steel exam table, white industrial cabinets and a carpeted cat tower in the corner. Only the cushioned seat built under the bay window revealed the room’s former use as a bedroom. Not all the Victorian charm had been renovated out of the old building, softening the commercial space.

“I have no more kennel space, Sophie. We went through this last night.” The man’s deep voice continued to blast from somewhere inside the flat. “I won’t be able to get into my supply room if we add another kennel in this place.”

Bare feet slapped on the wooden floor. A tall man moved into the room, slipped on his Crocs and stepped into the adjoining bathroom to wash his hands. “My landlord is very bossy. Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Porter and who do we have here?”

“This is Archie.” Brooke stepped to the table and unwrapped the towel. “He had abdominal surgery after being dropped out of a moving car on the interstate. I think he and my dog, Luna, took out all his stitches.”

Iain zeroed in on the cat and took over for Brooke, his touch gentle, his voice mild. “When was the surgery?”

“Four days ago.” Her fingers dug into the clean section of the towel, but the tremor inside Brooke refused to surrender. She couldn’t lose Archie. She’d lost most of her family already. Brooke pushed her words past her panic and filled in Iain on the rest of the details.

“The shelters were full. My dad brought Brooke and her pets to the city the night before last.” Dan’s hand landed on Brooke’s shoulder.