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“Maybe he’s still full from the marshmallows.” That’s what I tell her, and maybe it’s true, but G has proven himself to have an insatiable appetite. He’s never passed by a single crumb, much less turned down a treat. So this is concerning.

Twenty minutes later, he throws up again.

When Jessie starts on her homework, I open the browser on my phone, search, “dog ate too many marshmallows,” and instantly feel sick, when I find out that certain ingredients in sugar-free marshmallows can be toxic.

This could be more than just an upset stomach.

Marissa’s due home from work soon, so I try not to worry while I wait to discuss things with her. In the meantime, G throws up again.

While I’m grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess, the doorbell rings. Marissa is my first thought, though I can’t imagine why she’d ring the bell when she typically pulls into the garage.

I open the door to find Cam and Wyatt standing there. They’ve changed back into jeans and shirts, similar to what they were wearing this morning. Cam’s in a dark button-down that is again one button lower than how most men would wear it. Wyatt’s in a maroon-colored henley that stretches across his chest like it’s holding on for dear life. I can’t fault it. But I have bigger concerns right now than ogling these man-boys.

“What’s up?” Before, I was just irritated about the mess, but now I’m truly fearful about what’s wrong with the dog, and it’s these men’s antics that are responsible.

“We came by to find out how Goldfish is doing,” Wyatt says.

I look over my shoulder to confirm that Jessie’s out of earshot. “He’s not doing great. He’s thrown up several times, and he won’t eat. What kind of marshmallows were you using?” Even though I saw them in their shopping cart, I didn’t pay attention to the packaging.

“What kind?” Cam asks.

“What brand? I need to know if any were sugar free or had xylitol in them.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Xylitol can be toxic to dogs.”

“Oh, shit!” Wyatt runs a hand through his hair, looking distraught.

“Most were the major national brand, but we bought up all we could find,” Wyatt says, making my heart sink.

“Have you taken him to the vet?” Wyatt asks.

I shake my head. “I just found out that it could be serious, and I’m waiting for my roommate to come home. He’s technically her dog.”

“We’ll pay for the vet visit,” Cam says quickly.

“In fact, we can drive him to the vet,” Wyatt adds, “so you don’t have to worry about a mess in your car. We’re so sorry about this.”

Both of them look as worried as I feel, and their concern softens my opinion of them a little.

I’m not too sure about having them drive, because I had a bad feeling about them this morning, but then I remember that was because I thought they were following me home from the store, and now I know they were taking the same route because they live in the same neighborhood.

As I’m considering how to respond to their offer, Marissa pulls into the driveway. She casts a curious look at me and the two men on the porch before her car disappears into the garage.

CHAPTER9

CAM

“C’mon in,” Stella says, opening the door wider.

I would be excited to be invited into this woman’s house, but all I can think about right now is how we’ve made her dog sick.

“Guys, this is my daughter, Jessie. Jessie, this is Wyatt and Cam. They live in the house behind ours.”

“It’s the juggler,” the girl says.

When Stella looks confused, I explain that her daughter saw us in the yard yesterday from atop her playset.

Stella raises a brow at this information, making me assume that Jessie must not have told her mom about it.

“Our dog is sick,” Jessie informs us in the same direct way she told us that our mom needed to do our laundry yesterday.