Page 6

Once she was out of sight, taillights vanishing into the trees of the winding drive, the reality sank in. My eyelids weighed ten pounds apiece. Lifting my hand to rub them was as difficult as digging that hole had been. I needed to lie down.

But just as I shut the door behind me, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number that flashed across the screen. That wasn’t unusual though. The voicemail at my office redirected any emergency patients to my cell phone.

I wasn’t in any shape to perform a surgery right now. But I’d never ignore a patient either.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hi. Is this Dr. Everett?” An older woman, whose voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place.

“It is, yeah.” Stifling a yawn, I returned to the Chesterfield beneath the bay window. “Who, may I ask, is calling?”

“This is Glenna Phelps.” She sniffled. “I’m so sorry to call on the weekend, especially with the holiday coming up. I’m sure you’re busy.”

Glenna Phelps and her many rescue animals were frequent flyers at my office. She was a sweet old lady whose husband passed a while back, whose kids had gone on to live lives of their own, and to fill the void, she took in every stray she encountered. A few years ago, she started fostering with one of the local rescues. Because of Glenna, I hosted low-cost spay-neuter clinics quarterly.

Last week, we had to have a hard conversation about one of Glenna’s cats. She adopted him at nine, he was pushing thirteen now, and suffering from end-stage chronic kidney disease. Things had gotten worse lately. He had dropped a quarter of his body weight, despite appetite stimulants. He vomited several times every day, was growing more lethargic, and his urine output was exceptionally low. Last week, he had his first seizure, which meant treatment wasn’t helping anymore.

“That’s alright,” I said. “What’s going on? How’s Buttons doing?”

“That’s why I’m calling, actually.” Nasally, she cleared her throat. “He’s not moving well at all. Even when he pukes, he can’t get up. He just lays back down. I’ve been trying to get him to eat all night, but he just looks away, if he lifts his head at all. When he tries to move, he’s crying and whining, and—” A sharp breath cut her off. She cleared her throat again. “He’s in a lot of pain, Sebastian. I think it might be time.”

Chest heavy, tears burned their way across my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Glenna. He’s such a sweet boy.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss him like hell.” It took a long moment for her to say, “But I think if we don’t do it, I’m just forcing him to hurt longer. I know it’s going to happen soon anyway. That’s what you told me, right? When they stop eating and drinking, it’s gonna happen soon.”

I blinked at the tears in my eyes. “Yeah. He’s at the tail end.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” she murmured. “I guess you’re closed for the weekend, huh? Do you know somewhere else I can take him? He really hates getting in that cat carrier, and the drive is just so much stress, but I can’t watch him suffer like this through the weekend.”

Buttons deserved more dignity than that. “I’ve got a free morning anyway. I can bring my supplies to your house and just do it there, if you think that would be easier.”

“Oh, I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” As much as I hated this part of the job, it was the kindest thing I could do for a little creature who had endured so much. “I’d have to stop by my office anyway, and you’re only a couple of blocks over, right?”

“Yeah, I am, but I’ll have to pay you extra, Sebastian. What you’re doing, what you’re offering here, it’s the kindest favor, and⁠—”

“Don’t mention it.” I stood and headed for the door. I stepped into my boots and grabbed my keys off the end table. “You just enjoy this time with him. I’ll be there soon.”

3

SIMONE

Angela trailed a nicotine-stained fingernail across the back of the leather salon chair. It made a sound that brought chills to the back of Simone’s neck.

She knew this could happen. Edwards warned her.

Bile still burned its way up her esophagus, threatening to spew from her lips in a violent rain. At her sides, Simone’s hands trembled the way the leaves on the trees did in a summer storm. She clenched them tight to steady them.

“So this is where you’ve been.” Angela’s muddy sneakers squeaked against the white marble. She tilted her head back, surveying every inch of the five-hundred-square-foot space. “Finally opened that salon you were always talking about.”

“I—I think you should leave, Angela,” Simone choked out. “I have a client on the way, and⁠—”

“And I won’t be taking up too much of your time.” Angela tugged the center of her bleach-stained hoodie closer to her Live, Laugh, Love T-shirt. “Just thought I’d pop in. Say hello. How’ve you been?”

She hadn’t asked it as a question, so Simone didn’t answer. “Now isn’t the time or place.”

“Really?” Angela glanced at her watch. “Because I’ve been waiting almost five years for this. When is the time and place, Jess? Or—wait—what is it now? Sloan or something? Come on, that was dramatic. We both know you didn’t need to change your name.”