Page 25

ALDER

The late afternoon sun slants through our townhouse windows as I rummage through the fridge, searching for something to offer Lena.

My townhouse. Shit. After our day at the river, I'm not ready for it to end.

I want to preserve this new easiness between us, this return to something that feels remarkably like friendship.

Or maybe something more.

I can't stop thinking about how she looked today—cheeks flushed with exertion, hair wild from the river breeze, that genuine laugh when she jumped from the swing. She'd seemed so free, so different from the guarded woman who's been avoiding me all week.

"You hungry?" I call toward the hallway where she disappeared to change out of her damp clothes. "We've got leftover chicken, or I could throw together some pasta."

No response, but I hear her footsteps, then a strange sound that makes me straighten up and close the fridge.

"Alder? Can you come here?" Lena's voice has an edge I haven't heard before.

I find her kneeling beside Gordon, who's lying on his side in the hallway. My dog's eyes are half-closed, his usual manic energy completely absent .

"What's wrong with him?" I ask, dropping to my knees next to them.

"I'm not sure, but something's definitely off." Lena gently strokes Gordie's head. "He was pawing at his mouth when I walked past. Has he been eating and drinking normally?"

I try to think. I've been so wrapped up in my issues that I haven't paid close attention. "He didn't finish his breakfast this morning, but I figured he was just being picky. He does that sometimes."

Lena frowns, her hand moving to Gordie's jaw. "I'd like to look in his mouth. Can you hold him still for me?"

I nod, cradling Gordie's head in my lap. He whimpers slightly but doesn't resist as Lena carefully pries his jaws apart.

“Shit,” she mutters, peering inside. "Alder, his gums are severely swollen. There's—" She shifts position to get a better look. "I think there's an abscess on the left side of his back. It's pretty bad."

"What does that mean? He just needs antibiotics or something, right?" I try to keep my voice steady, but there's a rising note of panic I can't quite suppress.

Lena meets my eyes, her expression grave. "Dental abscesses in dogs can be serious. They can spread the infection to other parts of the body very quickly. We need to get him to an emergency vet. Now."

"He's just a smelly dog," I protest weakly. “Everyone always says he’s smelly.”

"Alder." Lena's voice is firm but gentle. "This isn't normal smelly dog stuff. This is a serious infection. Trust me on this. Teeth matter."

The certainty in her voice galvanizes me into action. I scoop Gordie into my arms, surprised at how limp he feels, and head for the door. "There's an emergency clinic in Shadyside, about fifteen minutes from here. "

"Give me your keys," Lena says, following close behind. "I'll drive. You sit with him."

I hesitate for only a moment before tossing her my keys. We hurry to the car, Gordie making small, pitiful sounds against my chest that twist something deep inside me.

"It's okay, buddy," I murmur, sliding into the back seat with him still cradled in my arms. "We're going to get you fixed up."

Lena navigates through early evening traffic with calm efficiency, occasionally glancing over with concern etched on her face. "Keep talking to him," she suggests. It'll help keep him calm."

So, I do. I tell Gordie about the birds we saw on the river today, about the swings, about how I'm going to buy him the fancy organic treats once he feels better. My voice catches occasionally, but I keep talking, as much for myself as for him.

By the time we pull into the emergency vet clinic's parking lot, my shirt is damp with sweat, Gordie's drool, and my arms ache from holding him. But I refuse to let him go until a vet tech meets us at the door with a gurney.

"What happened?" she asks, helping me transfer Gordie onto the small wheeled cart.

"Dental abscess," Lena answers before I can speak. "Severe swelling in the lower left quadrant, likely affecting the back molars. He's lethargic and showing signs of pain when touched near the jaw."

The tech gives Lena an appraising glance. "Medical background?"

"Dentist," Lena says. "Human teeth, but the principles are similar."

"Got it." The tech nods and begins wheeling Gordie through a set of double doors. "The doctor will examine him. You can wait in the reception area, and someone will come out to collect your information. "

"Can't I go with him?" The words burst out of me, desperate and raw.

"I'm sorry, sir. Hospital protocol. We'll update you as soon as possible."

I stand frozen, watching the doors swing shut behind Gordie, my arms suddenly aching with emptiness. Lena's hand finds my elbow, gently guiding me toward the waiting area.

"He's in good hands," she says softly. "Come on. Let's get the paperwork started."

I nod silently, allowing her to lead me to the reception desk. Lena mutters under her breath about the cost, but I will pay any amount for that mutt to be healthy. He’s been my rock through some tough shit. I throw my credit card on the counter.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of forms and pet insurance questions. I sign whatever's put in front of me, grateful that Lena seems to know what information they need when my brain simply won't cooperate.

The waiting room is quiet, with just an elderly couple holding a cat carrier and a woman scrolling through her phone while her small dog sleeps at her feet. I slump into an uncomfortable plastic chair, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the industrial carpeting.

"What if—" I begin, but can't bring myself to finish the thought.

Lena sits next to me, close enough that our shoulders touch. "Don't go there," she says. "One step at a time."

I nod, trying to focus on her steady presence rather than the swirling fears in my head. But as the minutes tick by, it becomes harder to maintain my composure. Needing a distraction, I pull out my phone and see a text from Gunnar.

Tomorrow’s the best day ever! I’m so pumped, guys .

Reality crashes in on me all at once. Gunnar's wedding. Tomorrow. How could I have forgotten?

"Fuck," I mutter, dropping my phone into my lap. "Gunnar's getting married tomorrow."

"I know," Lena says. "We'll make it. Gordie will be okay, and we'll make it to the wedding."

Before I can respond, the elderly couple across from us starts whispering and pointing. The woman nudges her husband and gestures toward me with poorly concealed excitement.

Not now. Please, not now. I tug at my hair, wishing I’d shoved a hat on my head. Wishing for one moment that I possessed a forgettable face.

Lena shifts slightly, angling her body to block their view of me. "Do you want some water?" she asks loudly enough for them to hear. "I saw a vending machine down the hall."

"No, I'm—" My voice breaks embarrassingly. "I'm okay."

She reaches for my hand, interlacing our fingers in a gesture that feels both casual and intimate. "He's going to be fine," she says, and I realize she's still performing for our audience, giving me the cover of a private moment.

"Mr. Stag?" A different vet tech appears at the door. "The doctor would like to speak with you."

I stand on unsteady legs, and Lena rises with me, still holding my hand. The tech leads us to a small consultation room where a middle-aged Asian woman in scrubs waits with Gordie's chart in her hands.

"I'm Dr. Wei," she says, gesturing for us to sit. "Your dog has a severe abscess that's causing significant infection. We've given him pain medication and started antibiotics, but he's going to need surgery to extract the affected teeth and drain the abscess."

"Surgery?" My mouth goes dry. "When?"

"As soon as possible," Dr. Wei says, her expression serious. "The infection is quite advanced. We'd like to keep him overnight for monitoring and do the procedure tomorrow afternoon.”

Tomorrow. Wedding day.

"Will he be okay?" It's the only question that matters right now.

"With prompt treatment, the prognosis is good.

Dental infections can be serious, but he's young and otherwise healthy.

" She glances between Lena and me. "The surgery should take about two hours, and then he'll need to recover here for at least 4-6 hours afterward.

You could likely take him home tomorrow evening, but he'll need careful monitoring and medication for several days. "

I nod, trying to absorb the information through the fog of panic. "Whatever he needs. Just... fix him."

Dr. Wei's expression softens. "We'll take good care of him, Mr. Stag. The receptionist can go over the costs and paperwork with you."

I tug on my hair. “Can I stay here overnight with him? This feels really shitty. Sorry.”

Lena pats my hand and looks at Dr. Wei, whose lips are pressed in a tight line. “Dr. Wei, I’m a trauma dentist and have experience with injected medications and monitoring vital signs. Do you think we could take Gordon home to wait for his surgery call?”

The vet taps her hands on the table, sighs, and pulls out a notepad.

“We’re pretty full here, so I’m going to say yes.

Here is the recommended antibiotic and pain medication schedule.

” She scribbles some notes that all seem like gibberish to me, but Lena knows what’s happening.

She meets my eye and says, “I promise, Alder, we can handle this back home.”

When Dr. Wei leaves in a rush, staring blankly at the wall. Gunnar's wedding is at 4 PM tomorrow. Even if Gordie's surgery is first thing in the morning, there's no way I can leave him alone while he recovers. Not for something as trivial as a wedding .

Even if it is my brother's.

"Alder," Lena says gently. "Talk to me."

"I can't go to the wedding," I say flatly. "I can't leave him."

"Yes, you can. We'll figure something out." She leans forward, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Is there anyone who could stay with Gordie after his surgery? Someone you trust?"