Page 6 of Fake the Shot (SLC Sting #2)

CHAPTER 6

BECAUSE OF A MAN

EMORY

Sunday evenings are my favorite time to come to work. The lights are dim, and it's so quiet it sometimes doesn't feel like the same building. But the smell always reminds me that it is. I've always loved that smell.

Tonight, though, the air feels thick and suffocating as I stop in front of each cage, saying a quick goodbye to the patient inside. If they're well enough to tolerate it, I give them a treat and a quick scratch behind their ears. Lana's cage is the last one I get to.

It's only been two days since her cancer surgery, but she's already a different cat. "Hi baby. I had to see you one last time." I unlatch the door and pull her toward me. She does her best to crawl into my arms, but as well as she's doing, she still has a four-inch incision on her side. "Shh. Stay still, baby."

I stroke a finger down her back as I examine the wound. No sign of infection or tearing. Her energy level is great, but I worry that's going to lead to problems. I can already tell she'll try to do too much too soon. I know Dad will pick this up too, but I decide to leave him a note, just in case. And maybe because it gives me an excuse to go into his office one last time .

"You think you're up for a little trip?" I make a sling from Lana's blanket and lift her into my arms, careful not to stress her incision.

Dad's office is just past the grooming station. The grey metal door is closed, but he never locks it. I still hesitate with my hand on the knob, though. "I always thought this would be my office one day," I whisper to Lana. "Now I don't know if he'll ever let me come back."

Beside the silver knob, there's the dent I put in the door when I was eleven. I told him I slipped, but really I was playing on Tabitha's desk chair. Spinning it and pushing myself across the floor. I pushed a little too hard and the metal back of the chair crashed into his door.

I still remember the way he cocked his head to the side, letting me know he saw through the lie. He didn't say a word, though. He just put his hand between my shoulder blades and walked me to the exam room, where his next patient was waiting. He knew he didn't have to say anything. He trusted me to know better.

I brace Lana in the crook of my arm while I walk into the office. His antique wood desk has nothing on the surface except a tablet perfectly aligned in the center and a single pen laid across its top. Beyond the desk, there are the same two leather chairs he's had since I was a kid. Behind those is a bookcase filled with texts, journals, and the awards he's won.

The threat of tears blurs my vision as I write my quick note about Lana. When I'm finished, I leave the tablet crooked, and trace a finger along the edge of the desk. One last goodbye.

"I guess I'm all done." I nuzzle my nose against Lana's as I take her back to her cage. "Think we should wish each other luck?"

She lets out a soft meow as if she's answering me.

"Good luck to you too. I'm going to miss you, baby." I take a last look around the room before I head outside.

When I was a kid, I thought it was the coolest thing ever to live next door to the clinic. I planned to build a house here too, right behind Mom and Dad's. Now, I hate that they live so close. I'm just two hundred feet away from telling them that I'm putting five hundred miles between us, and the sound of every step I take is so loud I'm sure they'll hear me coming.

But when I walk in the back door, Mom is standing at the sink doing dishes, completely oblivious. "Hey Mom."

She jumps and clutches her chest before laughing. "You almost gave me a heart attack! Did you eat? We have leftovers."

I can't help but inhale as I sit at the small kitchen table. The house smells like oregano and the years of Sunday dinners we ate right here before I moved away to college. Memories that I have to shake away. "I need to talk to you and Dad." A whisper is the best I can do.

"Emory? What's wrong?" Dad stops in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His voice is rough, like he's been sleeping.

Why is my heart racing? This should be easy. He obviously hasn't appreciated me since I came back from school, and I'll never be able to prove myself as long as I stay here. "Nothing, Dad. I just…" My gaze traces the woodgrain of the table. If I look at either of them right now, the tears are going to overwhelm me. "I'm moving."

"Oh." Mom sits beside me. "I didn't even know you were looking. No one tells me anything. When do you get it? Your dad and I will help you move."

"No. I'm moving to Salt Lake City. I'm staying at Lily's old house until I find a place of my own."

"Em?"

"This is a joke, right? A prank?" Dad sounds fully awake now.

I don't answer.

"Emory?"

I finally look up at him. "Isn't this where things have been heading for the last four years?"

"Why there?" His eyes narrow, scrutinizing me, like the answer to all of his questions isn't right under his nose. "Where will you work? You should have told me you wanted to leave, Emory. I have colleagues here. I could have placed you in one of their offices instead of this."

"Why, so they could treat me like a child too? I don't know where I'll be working yet. I'll find something. But I just have to—" My throat squeezes shut before I can tell him that I have to get away from him.

Anger flickers across his face and his cheeks turn red. This is the reaction I expected, so I sit a little taller. "Is this because of a… man?" He spits the last word like it's so repulsive he can't bear to have the word linger any longer than necessary. "Did you meet someone when you were there? This is not how it's supposed to go, Emory. Your career has to come first. Until you're established. I made that mistake. I had a wife and child before I was ready."

A mistake?

My chest tightens until it's impossible to breathe. I look at Mom, but if she has any reaction to his words, she's hiding it. When I cover her hand with mine, though, her fingers curl into a fist under my palm.

"I'm so sorry that you feel your wife and daughter are mistakes, Dad." I force the words through clenched teeth. "And yeah, this is because of a man. A man that I apparently love more than I should."

He runs a hand through his coppery hair and yanks out the chair next to me before immediately shoving it right back in place. "Is this man really worth throwing away everything you've worked for?" He's not raising his voice, but it's trembling with his rage. "You remember what happened in high school. With Seth."

"Oh my god, Dad. That was twelve years ago!" I toss my hands up and let them slam back down on my thighs. "I was a kid, and he was the first boy I ever had feelings for. You can't hold that against me forever."

Except he can. And I'm sure he will.

"You're the man, Dad. This is because of you. You never give me a chance to do anything."

My chair scrapes across the floor as I leap to my feet. If I sit for another second, all the frustrated energy inside me will burst .

"You have to earn that chance, Emory, and?—"

"What more do I need to do, Dad? I spent years learning from you before I went to veterinary school. You know what I found out when I got there? That I already knew more than every other student. I'm good at this, Dad—I'm great at it—and it's because of you. But you do everything you can to make me feel like I'm not."

"Emory, that's not—" He takes half a step forward but then turns his back to me. "Doing something spontaneous like this shows me that you're not ready. And doing it because you met some man?"

"Oh my god, you're not even listening!" My entire body is crackling, and I just want to scream. "I love you both, but I'm not happy here. I need more, and you're never going to let me have that. I can't keep doing this."

The periphery of my vision starts to darken, so I take slow, deep breaths. "I didn't come here to argue. I came to say goodbye. And I guess I've done that now, so… goodbye."

The chilly mid-October air whips a light misting rain around me when I step outside. By the time I get to my truck, my clothes are wet, and I'm trembling. But it has nothing to do with the weather.

I want to sit here and let the tears finally come out, but I start the truck and pull away, not allowing even a single glance at the house as I drive past.