“Thank you,” Luke said. “For staying with him.”
“Sure.” Holly hugged her arms around herself as she shivered despite the warm afternoon. Part of her wanted to call to Luke, to ask him to let her know what happened with the dog, but she couldn’t find the words.
She’d seen the same haunted, hurt look before—in Luke’s eyes, years ago. Holly double-timed it up the hill to the three-story Victorian inn, guilt niggling at her insides. As much as she didn’t want the past to matter, there was no escaping it; not when it continued to shape the present. It might not do any good to dwell on how things might have been different, but seeing Luke again made her wonder what might have happened had she ever asked teenage Luke if he needed help.
Instead of pretending he didn’t exist.
* * *
“IT’S AMAZING WHAT the promise of a dog treat will do.” Selina Collins backed away as the dog dropped out of the truck and nuzzled her hand for the hidden prize. Selina opened her palm and let the dog lick up the snack. “Are you okay?” She glanced over at Luke, who was still trying to process the panic that had descended at the house. He hated feeling helpless, hopeless, and for a long moment, he’d been a cop again back in Chicago, reliving those endless seconds when he’d realized nothing could stop what was going to happen. And nothing could alter what had happened. The pain, the suffering. The death. No matter how many times he replayed that day in his mind, he couldn’t change it.
But he could here. He could make a difference in Butterfly Harbor.
“Is he going to be okay?” he croaked, trying to block out the memory of explosions and screams, fire and failure.
“Let’s get him inside and see.” She picked up Luke’s arm and dropped some treats into his hand. “Lead the way. He’ll follow.”
Luke nodded, grateful for the calming effect Dr. Collins seemed to have on both of them. Her peppered blond hair was tugged into a bun, giving her more of a schoolmarm appearance than that of a vet, until she shrugged into her lab coat again. Voilà. The doctor was back.
“I heard Holly call you Luke,” Dr. Collins said. “Would that be Luke Saxon, our new sheriff?”
Luke’s guard shot up as if he’d shoved a shield in front of himself. “Yes.”
Selina closed the door behind her and led the way through the clinic to the exam room. The clinic wasn’t just a vet’s office; it was her home. The dog’s claws click-clacked on the hardwood floor as he trailed behind them—the animal was becoming more animated by the second.
“That would be the Saxons who lived up on Turnpike Lane?”
“What’s left of us still do.” He needed to get used to this conversation, as he was certain to be having it every day for a while. He could only imagine the damage his father had done after Luke left Butterfly Harbor, especially without Luke around to try to clean up his messes. “I still do.”
“Ah.” She patted his arm as she passed and encouraged the dog to join her in an exam room. It was wood paneled and decked out with modern equipment, and posters of various animals and warnings and reminders dotted the soft green walls.
Luke frowned. What did “ah” mean?
“Okay, boy, up.” Selina tapped her hand on the metal exam table.
The dog plopped its butt on the floor and whined up at Luke.
“What?” Luke asked. “Am I supposed to pick him up?” He didn’t think he and the dog had established enough trust for that.
“I don’t think so. Give me a second.” Selina left the room and returned with a solid block of wood. “Up.” She tapped the table again and this time, the dog used the block as stairs, keeping a cautious eye on Luke as he did so. “Well, you’ve got yourself a smart one, that’s for sure.” She began running her hands around the dog’s body, her face losing all expression as she prodded and pressed, poked and checked. “He’s dehydrated, which explains the lethargy. There’s no telling how long he was under your house.” When she turned to the counter, the dog let out a pent-up sigh and lay down, as if he knew what was coming next. Sure enough, Luke winced at the sight of the thermometer in Selina’s hand.
“I know,” Luke said as he moved to the dog’s head and bent down, petting the pooch as the doctor did what was necessary. “It’s undignified, isn’t it?” He didn’t want to think of all the poking and prodding he’d undergone during his lengthy stay in the hospital and then the recovery time in the burn unit.
Undignified was an understatement.
“Is this your first dog?” Selina asked.