Duke will be expensive enough as it is.
The house is quiet when I cross the threshold. No sign of Finn or Theo. I couldn’t be more excited for Lexie’s warm welcome, but she doesn’t rush to the door like she always does. Struggling to rise off her bed, she drags herself down the hallway with obvious difficulty.
She looks exhausted.
She’s been more and more tired lately.
“Come here.” I meet her halfway and kneel in front of her. She puts all of her weight on me when I extend my arms around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder.
Something’s wrong.
“Lex, are you okay?” I ask like I expect her to answer me.
I notice some sort of discharge around her eyes, and it takes all I have not to hop on the internet and scare myself to death by searching the cause. We didn’t hear back from the vet following her annual tests, and I assumed everything was okay, but I’m starting to worry the tests just haven’t come in yet.
I spend most of the day lying on the couch with Lexie, trying to call her ridiculously expensive vet—trying being the key word here. The line is busy every time, and I must leave over seven voicemails asking for a callback.
Lexie goes outside to do her business once or twice, retreating to the couch like clockwork. She also doesn’t eat at all throughout the day. Around dinnertime, I start to wonder if I should just hop in my car and drive to every vet in a two-hundred-mile radius until someone agrees to see her.
I’m pushing off the couch, prepared to pick Lexie up and carry her to my back seat, when I hear the front door slam. A masculine voice erupts in the hallway, and I tense up, praying for the newcomer to be Theo rather than Finn.
Lexie barely opens her eyes, too tired to acknowledge the company.
“Absolutely, we’ll be there. Thank you.” I recognize his voice before he even steps foot into the kitchen.
Finn walks in just in time for me to see him hang up the phone. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, too engulfed in his own thoughts to notice me standing in the living room, and plants both his palms onto the kitchen island.
His head hanging low, he releases a deep, heavy sigh like he’s on the verge of losing it and squeezes his eyes shut to keep himself in check.
Only… he fails.
Every hair on my body stands on end when he lets out a rough, frustrated growl and chucks his phone against the kitchen wall with all his strength. His phone screen smashes on impact, chunks of glass flying everywhere. He just got that phone a few days ago after losing his first one on the bridge.
His outburst holds anger, desperation, fear, and all it takes is one look in Lexie’s direction for me to understand the root of his breakdown.
It’s her.
It’s got to be.
I’m aware I should say something, make my presence known, but part of me is terrified of talking to him when he’s in this state. I’ve dedicated the last week to convincing myself that Finn Richards is a heartless scumbag who only cares about himself, and I don’t know if I can handle him proving me wrong.
The choice is taken away from me when he angles his head toward the living room and notices me.
Color drains from his skin.
“You’re back,” he says, his voice raspy, but I get the feeling that he knew that already. He probably saw my car parked out front but didn’t think I’d be in the living room to witness his breakdown.
“I am.”
“Why?” he immediately asks as though he can’t make sense of my return. Maybe, deep down, he knows the way he treated me a week ago was unacceptable.
“To get my stuff,” I admit.
He nods but doesn’t answer, throwing open a closet and grabbing a broom to fix the mess. I’m fuming, loathing my foolish heart for wishing he’d ask me to stay or apologize as he cleans up the glass.
“There’s something wrong with Lexie,” I inform him. Maybe a subject change will prevent me from falling apart.
“I know.” He sighs. “I’ve been trying to get her an appointment with her usual vet for two days. I found another vet willing to see her tomorrow afternoon.”