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Seeing the missed call from Abby, emotions flitted through him: disappointment, guilt, anxiety, relief. Disappointment he’d missed her call, guilt he hadn’t even bothered to check his phone, assuming Lindsay had called to harass him some more, anxiety Lindsay might go after Abby, or she wanted to end things between them, or a million other doubts he had about their relationship that bubbled to the surface, no matter how hard he quashed them... Relief he hadn’t picked up—the most complicated feeling of all.
Tapping the screen, then holding the phone to his ear, he waited while it rang. When she answered, he had the ugly thought he’d been hoping it would go to voicemail. “Uh, hey. It’s me.”
“Rough day?” Abby, hearing the edge of exhaustion in his voice, worried she shouldn’t have bothered him. But, no, he had called her, she reassured herself. He wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t wanted to talk. Right?
“Tired. Two-a-days are brutal.”
“I can’t even imagine. And in this heat...” she trailed off, unsure what to say next.
“Yeah.”
The pause turned long. Awkward. “Well, I’m sure you’re playing great,” Abby managed, trying to restart the stalled conversation.
“I’d better. Quarterbacks are a dime a dozen, or so I’m told.”
“Ouch, that bad?”
“It’s the football equivalent of basic training; break us down to build us up or some bull...” He cut himself off, voice harsh on the line.
“Oh.” The silence stretched thin and brittle again.
Gen, responding to Abby’s growing distress, twined herself between her handler’s legs.
“Gen, that’s enough. Go lay down.”
The dog ignored her, pressing her body harder against Abby’s.
Sighing, Abby bent down to scratch her ears. “Gen’s being weird. I should figure out why.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re being weird. She’s a pretty accurate barometer of your emotions, after all.”
Abby tensed, her breath catching in her chest. Another long, fraught pause.
“Okay, then,” she managed through a throat closing with some unnamed emotion existing somewhere between fear, anger, and sadness. “Well, I’ll stop bothering you.”
“Abby, wait, I didn’t mean...”
Her eyes burning, Abby let the phone drop into her lap. She pressed the red button to end the call, then buried her face in Gen’s ruff.
“I literally have no idea what the hell just happened. But I’m guessing that’s a no on borrowing his pool this evening. You’ll have to make do with the fan.”
Gen panted in response and, grateful for the distraction, Abby ran her fingers over the rough patch of fur Gen had been worrying for the last few days.
“I don’t want to shave you, girl, but I think I’m going to have to. This hot spot isn’t getting better, and if you have one, you probably have others.” Abby frowned.
She’d discovered early on Gen couldn’t comfort the children when she’d been shaved. Without her long, tufted fur, the kids didn’t want to pet and cuddle her.
Gen whined, then flopped onto her side, still panting. Whining again, she twitched a leg, then laid still, air whistling through her nose as she breathed, each exhale a hair-raisingly high-pitched sound on the upper edge of Abby’s hearing.
“Yeah, definitely going to have to shave you.”
Abby got up to gather the necessary supplies. Taking her phone with her, she scrolled through her contacts, then dialed. It went to voicemail. “Hi Sadie, it’s Abby. Listen, I have to shave Gen; she’s got some hot spots, and I was hoping I’d be able to do some other OTC treatment, but it isn’t going to be an option.”
Abby gritted her teeth, tempted to call Scott again, but then she steeled herself. She would not become a burden on him, a parasite, another person who only wanted him for what he could give her.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I think it’ll be a few weeks before we’ll be able to be back. She’ll need time to heal before I can bring her into a sterile environment again.”
Hanging up, she pressed her lips together, then reached for the electric clippers.