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Startled, I jump up from the seat, rubbing my face to try to wake up. Jethro is standing in front of me, looking worn out but not unhappy. “Is he okay?”

His smile is small, and the attempt at laughter is even worse. “He is actually a she, and she’s pulled through. She’s got a long way to go, though, and it will take a while for her to fully recover. I’ll be keeping her here for the next forty-eight hours, maybe more. She’s resting now and has both painkillers and antibiotics being administered through a drip.”

While it’s great to hear the dog is going to recover, all I can think of is whether they’ve found a microchip. “That’s good. I mean, it’s great, but all I want to know is if he—sorry, she—has a chip? Have you found an owner?”

Jethro’s expression becomes hard, angry even. “The dog is microchipped, and Maeve spoke to the owner, but I need to talk to him myself. It’s complicated. Maybe you should get home, Ben. It’s late, and there’s nothing more you can do tonight.”

Now there’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. I wasn’t just waiting for news on the dog, but to see him—Jethro. To talk to him. But it’s obvious he doesn’t want to. Like he said, it’s late. “Can I see her before I go?”

He stares at me for a fraction too long, and I back-pedal. “Okay, I get it.”

“No, wait. It’s fine. I hope she’ll be sleeping again. Come this way.”

I follow him through the door separating the public area from the private one. I pay more attention to it all this time around. Everything looks smart and sleek, expensive. Talk was he hadn’t kept any of the sale of his house, so this must have cost a pretty penny. He stops at the door. “She has had a lot of fur shaved away so we could get to all the injuries, so she’s in a bit of a sorry state.”

This poor dog has got under my skin way more than it should’ve done. I want to be the one to look after her. But I’m not sure my life is conducive to having a dog. I’m up early every morning to bake, then work in the shop until late afternoon. A little voice in the back of my head adds its opinion. You’re only there because you have nothing better to do. Maybe it’s right. I do work long hours because I have nothing else to do. When I was with Jamie, I took more time off, but when that relationship went to pieces, I lost myself in baking.

I’m getting way ahead of myself. The dog has an owner. There may be issues with that, but it still doesn’t mean I can take ownership. I’m getting in way too deep, too quickly. Hell, Jethro can hardly look me in the eye, let alone see me regularly with a poorly dog.

When I look into the only occupied crate, my breath comes out in a woosh. She’s pretty banged up, with the stitches, the shaved fur, and, most obvious, the heavily bandaged leg. I raise my hand, wanting to stroke her, to offer her comfort even in her sleep. Jethro must have noticed because he opens the door a little, and I can touch her sweet, soft muzzle and nose. I pull back quicker than I want to, but Jethro is right. She needs her rest. “Thank you.”

It's time to go home. I don’t want to get into any kind of conversation at this late hour. We’re both tired, and I’m feeling emotional after everything that’s happened tonight. “Can you please keep me updated?”

“Of course. You did an amazing thing tonight, Ben. You saved her life.”

Jethro tries to touch my arm, but I shrink out of the way. I’m already hanging by a thread, and exhaustion is coming over me in waves. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you must be tired. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Drive carefully, please.”

I nod and retrace my previous steps into the reception and out the door. As I breathe in deeply, the air freezes in my throat as I hold back a sob. I need to be at home, in my bed. I can have a meltdown then.

But I don’t. In fact, I don’t even remember the drive home or climbing into bed.

The next morning, the dull, dark grey clouds greet me through the window framed by undrawn curtains. I stretch out in my bed and cringe at the click in my back and knees as my joints begrudgingly wake up. Memories of last night flood my mind, forcing any residue of sleep away. The dog. Jethro.

My phone rings, and I jump out of bed to the pile of scrubs I stripped carelessly out of last night. “’Lo.”

It comes out scratchy. I clear my throat and start again. “Hello.”

“Benny, it’s Amy. Are you coming in this morning? I heard all about your rescue last night, so it’s okay if you’re not. We’ve got it all under control. I just thought I’d check on you.”

I don’t even know what the time is, but seeing as it’s daylight, it’s later than I usually get up. Normally, I’m in the kitchen nearly every morning before sunrise. “Shit, Amy. I’m sorry. Give me half an hour, and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, but don’t rush. We’re managing fine.”

We say goodbye, and I stumble off to the bathroom to grab a shower.

I walk through the back door into the café’s kitchen.

I’ll get out of my coat and my apron on before I face the crowds and the myriad of questions I don’t know the answer to.

Hopefully, I have at least a text updating me on the dog.

Maybe nothing has changed. Or maybe something bad has happened to her. I reach for my phone. Shit, I don’t have the number. If I don’t hear anything, I’ll go over there later.

As I walk from the kitchen into the shop, all eyes turn to me. Amy smiles at me. “I told you it was all under control.”

“I’ll have to promote you to manager if you keep this up.”

Her eyes go wide at my suggestion.

I was only kidding, but after my night and my desire to keep the dog, it doesn’t seem such a bad idea.

Something for me to think about when I have an update.

I face the counter and take my first order.

As I expected, every customer—and there are a lot more than usual for this time of year—has found out about last night and wants to know all the details.

The speculation of who and what happened runs rife, becoming more elaborate and embellished as the morning goes on.

I’m getting tired of talking about it all.

It’s not until mid-afternoon before someone who may have a genuine update comes into the shop—Luke. Not the person I wanted to hear it from, but better than no one informing me.

“Hey, can I get a takeout order?”

he asks Maddie, but he gives me a nod. “Can I talk to you, Benny? Do you have time?”

“Of course. Come through.”

I open the pass to let him in. Luke worked for me for a long time over the school holidays and later through college. He knows his way around the café. “Is it about the dog?”

I ask him once we’re away from the eyes and ears of the customers.

“Yes, Jet wondered if you could call around after you’ve finished here. There are some things he wants to explain.”

And he couldn’t be bothered to come and see me himself. He really is an arsehole. “I’m not sure I’ll have time. I was late getting here this morning. Just tell me if she’s doing okay.”

Luke shuffles his feet as if he wants to get out of here as quickly as possible. “Yeah, she’s improving. But I think it’s important what Jet wants to say to you. I told him it would be better if he told you himself, but he’s busy today.”

“As long as the little dog is getting better, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk to me about,”

I snap. “I’m sorry, Luke. I know this isn’t your business. Can you let Jethro know I won’t be coming over?”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Luke, you haven’t bothered me, not one bit. I’m sorry you got to be the messenger. I hope you get on well there.”

He gives me a small smile like it’s his fault I’m annoyed. Poor kid. He dashes to the counter, collects the lunch order, and walks out.

Bloody Jethro. Why is he doing this?If he wants to talk, he can get off his arse and come to me. I’m not chasing after a man who has already broken my heart.