Page 8 of Bad Boy Husband

SADIE

K itten fur and the scent of antiseptic clung to me like a second skin. I was crouched on the cold tile floor, my sleeves rolled up past my elbows while Dr. Emily gently pried open the eyelids of a newborn feral kitten.

I knew she had to check for signs of infection, but when the kitten let out a thin, indignant squeak, the sound vibrated straight into my chest. My heart cracked open for the tiny, confused animal that had been born into a world where no one was ever likely to take care of it again after this.

“Easy, baby,” I murmured, scratching gently behind its ears. “You’re okay. We’re just trying to help you, alright? I promise, no one is going to hurt you.”

“Sadie,” Joan said from the doorway. “You need to see this.”

I looked up, seeing her hovering in the hall with an unreadable expression on her face. She was the shelter’s administrator, a woman whose clipboard was practically a permanent appendage, and she wasn’t the dramatic type. If she wanted me to see something, it was because I needed to see it.

“It’s okay, Sadie. You can go.” Emily smiled at me. “I’ve got this little one.”

She held out her gloved hands, and I sighed but stood up and handed the kitten over. From this angle, it was little more than a ball of fluff spread across Emily’s palm and my heart gave another pang.

The fluorescent lights above me flickered every so often.

The examination room was clean but the tiles were stained in places after years of use.

Doors hung off the cabinets mounted against the walls like the hinges themselves were just too tired to keep hanging on.

Most of the jars holding Emily’s supplies were empty, yet she kept on trucking, doing her level best with the little she had.

Wiping my hands on my jeans so I wouldn’t waste the last bit of paper towel on my myself, I followed Joan to the front office. My sneakers squeaked faintly, barely audible against the dogs barking as Lisa played with them at the shelter next door.

Joan didn’t bother with pleasantries. She also didn’t sit back down, waving me into the threadbare chair behind the ancient computer instead. “An anonymous donation just came in. Fifty thousand dollars.”

My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as shock radiated through me and my brain struggled for words. “Fifty thousand?”

She nodded and reached up to adjust her glasses, a sure sign that she was just as flustered as I was. She was just better at hiding it. “We received it through your foundation’s website.”

My chest tightened. Fifty thousand dollars. Anonymously, to boot.

Some small, traitorous part of me immediately thought of Jameson, but no. It probably hadn’t been him. Sure, he had the money, but why would he donate to the foundation? Could’ve been Callum Westwood, or maybe Laney.

Callum was the type who might’ve done it, even if only as a middle finger to his father. Laney would do it too. She had access to Sterling’s money these days and he wouldn’t have stopped her, but I didn’t know why she would have done it anonymously.

Still, whoever it was, the fact that I didn’t know their identity felt like both a blessing and a slap in the face. It meant I had no chance to say thank you, but it also meant I didn’t have to thank one person for saving me from having failed completely.

“Thank you for telling me,” I managed, my voice suddenly scratchy. “I really hope it’ll help.”

“It’ll definitely help.” Joan tapped her clipboard, her eyes glazing over like she was doing the math mentally. “If we stretch it, this money could last us at least a few months. There’s also a city grant we might qualify for. Animal welfare funds. It could bring in some decent money.”

“That’s great,” I said, hope fluttering in my chest. Until I remembered I didn’t even have the money to pay someone to try and get us more money. “We’d have to hire a grant writer, though. Someone who knows the right way to word it. Those don’t come cheap.”

She sighed but reached out to give my bicep a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be okay, honey. Somehow, someway, we always manage to land on our feet.”

Fifty thousand was incredible. Miraculous even. But it wasn’t a fix.

Right now though, it felt like a parting gift from the universe to let me know it was okay to leave here. It would be enough to keep the animals afloat while I packed up my life, accepted my defeat, and got on a plane back to Dallas.

As Joan offered me a smile and sat down behind the computer, I forced my legs to move back to the exam room, keeping my head down. The rest of the afternoon blurred by as I cleaned cages, logged meds, and filled water bowls.

Hooch trotted after me through the hallways, his big jowly face a silent comfort. This would be my last shift here for a while. Maybe ever, but I hadn’t told anyone that.

By the time the sun was dipping low behind the apartment buildings around us, I clocked out, my minimum wage check barely enough to cover this week’s groceries. At least it was something, though. Something I’d earned. A paycheck I’d worked hard for.

That meant a lot to me these days. It was a source of pride, even if the amount reflected on it was negligible. I clipped Hooch’s leash on and waved goodbye to the others before I took off. Jameson’s mechanic had picked up my car as promised, but I couldn’t afford to get it fixed.

For now, that meant Hooch and I were on foot, but at least he enjoyed that. In the past, we’d gone for walks and runs. Now our feet were our only method of transportation and he was here for it.

I wasn’t feeling as good. Although I didn’t mind walking, it was the fact that I had to do it that got to me.

The fact that it meant I’d officially failed to the extent that I’d had to sell my actual car, downgrading and downgrading until that heap of scrap metal had been all I’d been able to afford, and now I didn’t even have that.

It was a painful reminder of how far I’d fallen.

I kept my head down as we made our way along the crowded sidewalk. One hand rested on Hooch’s broad shoulder whenever the ache in my chest got too tight.

The donation money was good, at least. It felt like a final kindness my foundation had been able to bring in for just this one shelter before goodbye.

When I got home, I sat down on the edge of my bed and stared out my grimy window.

I’d scrubbed the inside of it countless times, but this was grime that had collected on the outside over decades of briny air and the breeze coming off the bay.

The building manager had informed me window cleaning simply wasn’t in his budget, but that was fine.

I’d gotten used to my blurry view. It killed me that I was going to be losing it soon, but as the saggy mattress springs squealed under Hooch’s weight when he rested his head against my knee, I knew that it was time.

Calling my mom might feel like dialing up a migraine, but it was the right thing to do. The only thing, even. My parents weren’t bad people. They were just traditional in a fucked up, old money kind of way that I honestly would never understand.

If lobotomies had still been a thing, I would’ve been the southern princess they’d always dreamed I would be—docile, quiet, dutiful, and unopinionated. Unfortunately, I’d ended up being none of those things, and while I loved my family, I would never fit into their world.

Yet, their world was exactly where I was headed.

Back to Texas, where my father’s grandfather had struck liquid gold once upon a time, turning Dad’s family into oil barons with more money than God.

Mom had always been a socialite and an heiress, a sweet, southern belle who had never been able to fathom why I would want to work.

I hit dial before I could mentally page through my family history any longer. The more I thought about any of that stuff, the less likely it was that I would actually make the call. Two rings later, Mom answered, her voice as bright and syrupy sweet as ever.

“Sadie, darling? Is that you? Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Mama,” I lied. “I was just thinking, uh, do you think I could come home for a week or two? To talk. Maybe spend some time together?”

There was a beat of stunned silence before she squealed. “Oh, sweetheart, yes! Yes, of course. We’d love that. Your father will be thrilled. When were you thinking of coming? I’ll send the jet.”

“Soon,” I admitted, my voice soft. “Like really soon. The sooner the better, actually.”

“We’ll make it happen,” she promised, and just like that, the train had left the station and I wasn’t the conductor anymore. “Pack your bags, darling. You’re coming home.”

Hooch grunted beside me, pressing closer, and I ran a hand down his back, my chest aching at the thought of leaving him here, but I had to. “I just need to make some arrangements for Hooch, then I’ll pack.”

“How about Lisa?” she asked. “She took him last time you came to visit. You said she had a fenced yard and two lazy old labs. Maybe she’ll have him again. He’ll have friends to play with.”

She said it like her solution would fix the raw spot in my chest. It didn’t, but Lisa was my only real option anyway. After I got off the phone with my mom, I called her, and as always, she was happy to take care of him for me for a few days.

“Sure,” she said cheerfully. “Dolly and Parton love him. They all get along so well and he gets them up and running. It’ll be good for those old hips of theirs to get some exercise.”

“Thanks, Lisa. I owe you.”

“Never.” She chuckled. “Just let me know when you need me to come pick him up. I’ll be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

There wasn’t much else to say. I was waiting to hear from my mom about the jet.

I’d used the bus money I’d had to buy enough food to last Hooch while I was gone and I’d given the rest to Emily, urging her to use it to refill as many of those supply jars as possible.

Lisa hung up after assuring me again that she could collect Hooch at any time, and I grabbed an old, soft-sided duffel out of my closet.

It had seen better days, just like everything I packed into it.

A few dresses, some worn sneakers, and the one good blazer I had left that I hadn’t spilled coffee on.

Hooch stuck close while I packed, like he knew it meant our separation was inevitable. I glanced down at him. “I’ll be back soon, okay, boy? I’m not leaving you forever. I just need to go figure a few things out with my folks, but I’ll be back before you even know it.”

My phone buzzed just after I’d come out of the bathroom with my hands full of toiletries. I leaned over to peer at it. My eyes widened at the message on the screen.

Mama: Daddy had the jet rerouted to SFO. It’s landing any minute, so it’ll be there and ready whenever you are. You can come tonight if you’d like. X

Of course, I could.

As I stood there in my tiny studio, staring at the cracked paint on the walls and listening to the familiar hum of the old fridge in the corner, I tried to picture myself stepping onto the family’s private jet in just a couple hours.

I thought about the polished mahogany floors and the white leather seats.

The gourmet snacks onboard and only the finest liquor.

It felt obscene. All of it.

Leaving Hooch behind felt worse, but I texted Lisa and took her up on the offer to pick him up. If he was staying behind, at least it meant I would have to come back. Even if everything else fell apart, I still had to come back for him.

I bent down, pressing my forehead to the thick fur at the top of his head. “Be good, okay? Don’t scare the labs.”

He whined, smearing a little bit more drool against my jeans. I almost scrapped the whole plan right then and there, but my brain wouldn’t stop replaying the numbers in my checking account. Three hundred bucks and some change—and that was before I’d bought the food and given the rest to Emily.

I was officially down to what I needed to get an Uber to the airport, which meant that I was utterly and completely out of options. So I pulled out my phone again and ordered a ride. Then I stood on the curb and watched as Lisa clipped a leash on Hooch.

We coaxed him into the back of her Jeep and he turned to look at me with his head cocked once he was on the seat. Those soulful eyes were full of confusion and my heart broke into a thousand tiny shards.

“I’ll come back,” I promised on a whisper quiet enough that only I could hear it. “I’ll be back for you, boy.”

“Have a safe trip,” Lisa said brightly as she climbed in behind the wheel, completely oblivious to the state of emotional crisis I was in right then. “We’ll video call again, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed and waved them away until they’d disappeared from sight. I climbed into my Uber when it pulled up.

“Airport?” the driver confirmed.

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. He turned up the music and took off, and I watched San Francisco blur past outside my window as we sped toward the airport. My heart thudded somewhere behind my ribs, every beat screaming the same question over and over:

What the hell are you doing, Sadie?

The worst part was that I didn’t have an answer, and I also had absolutely no idea when I would really be coming back.