Twenty-Nine

ABBY WOKE EARLY, the solid weight of Gen’s warmth behind her knees, and blinked her eyes, still raw and burning. Curling into a tight ball, she blocked out the pain. Her heart had been broken once before and she’d survived it, but, oh, how it hurt.

Rising, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head, then sat back down on the bed and ran a gentle hand down Gen’s spine. The dog lay still.

“Come on, Gen. You need to go out. We need to eat.”

A list of tasks. A purpose. That would help them go on.

At her name, the dog’s lashes fluttered open, revealing dull, gray eyes. She didn’t lift her head; not even her tail thumped against the bedspread.

“Breakfast, Gen,” Abby tried again, using a word she’d recognize. “ Breakfast and a walk .”

Still the dog lay there, unmoving, her eyes drifting shut again.

Abby nudged Gen’s shoulder.

“I know, girl. I’m...” she gulped back a sob. “I’m sad, too, but you have to get up.”

Gen uncurled, then heaved herself to her feet. Her head hung low, ears pressed flat to her skull, tail tucked behind her.

Abby stood, clicking her tongue as she did so. “Good girl, Gen. Come on. You’ll be better after breakfast.”

Gen creeped to the side of the bed, but instead of leaping to the floor, her front legs collapsed, pitching her nose-first over the edge.

With a startled yelp of pain, the dog lay there, limbs a tangled heap, staring up at Abby with empty eyes. Scrabbling for a moment, she pulled her legs under her body, but as she rose, they gave way again.

Horrified, Abby dropped to her knees and gathered her friend close against her chest. “Gen?”

Staggering to her feet, the full weight of the dog in her arms, Abby careened down the stairs.

She hefted her higher and swept a hand over the small table until she found her keys, then lurched out the door.

Laying Gen in the back seat, she wrenched the front door open and fell into the driver’s seat, scrabbling to find the right key and shove it into the ignition.

Her eyes blurred as she drove through the morning traffic, weaving between cars, running stops signs, and honking her horn if the cars ahead of her didn’t move fast enough when the light turned green. An eternity later, she parked, gathered Gen back into her arms, and burst into the vet’s office.

The receptionist, starting to gather her paperwork for the day, froze at the sight of Abby, wild eyed and frazzled, barefoot, still dressed in her pink sweatpants with teacups printed along the cuffs.

“Something’s wrong with Gen.”

Abby wouldn’t call until Liam had recovered, but when a second day passed without word from her, the persistent worry became too much for Scott to ignore. The days until Dylan’s Christmas concert had ticked down, and his son would be devastated if Abby missed it. Still...

Hey, how’s Liam doing? He sent a low-key, quick text she could either answer, or not.

He took Dylan to school, went to practice, watched tape, plotted a new play with the offensive coaches, then went home again. No response.

You okay? he texted after dinner.

By the time he’d put Dylan to bed and still hadn’t heard from her, a coil of anxiety knotted itself in his chest. Standing in the kitchen in his old, comfortable sweatpants with a cup of tea, he called Abby’s cell phone.

It rang, then went to voicemail.

He frowned, hung up, then scrolled through his contacts.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cara. It’s Scott, Abby’s boyfriend?”

“Hi Scott. What can I do for you?” Exhaustion threaded through her voice, muting the drawled words until they flowed almost unintelligibly into each other.

“Sorry to call you so late, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Abby in about two days and I’m starting to get worried.

She hasn’t responded to my texts and she’s not answering her phone.

I know Liam needed her, and I don’t want to disturb her if she’s still with him, so I thought I’d call you and make sure everything’s okay. ”

The silence stretched out on the line, then Cara said, “She hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“I... I can’t... HIPAA... I’m not allowed to say anything, but, umm, if she hasn’t called you, you should go over and...” Her voice broke and she had to clear her throat before continuing. “And check on her.”

Scott glanced at the clock, thought of Dylan, asleep in his bed, thought of practice tomorrow. Hated himself for weighing all of that against Cara’s words, against the dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

“I’ll call the nanny.”

It took longer than he would have liked, for Lauren to arrive, and by the time she did, Scott had pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. “If I’m not back tonight, make sure Dylan gets to school on time. And tell him I’ll see him at his concert.”

Abby’s windows were dark when he pulled up to her house.

Her car, parked awkwardly on the street, angled out into traffic.

That no one had hit it constituted nothing short of a miracle.

Taking the front steps two at a time, he pressed the doorbell.

It chimed inside, but no other sound came.

After several moments, he tried again, then knocked. Still nothing.

Hesitant to call out, not wanting to disturb the neighbors, he wondered if she’d gone out. Maybe back to the hospital. He had no idea where to start searching. Ringing the bell and knocking again, he risked raising his voice. “Abby? Abby if you’re there, it’s Scott. Come open the door.”

Finally, a thump sounded from within.

It took far too long, and each time the silence stretched out he rapped his knuckles against the jamb. Finally, the lock clicked.

The door swung open, and it took Scott’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness within.

The streetlights behind him shed pale illumination through the open door, throwing Abby’s face into a relief of shadows.

Her shoulders slumped, and her tangled hair half fell out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into.

Without acknowledging him, she shuffled backwards, turned away, staggered toward the stairs.

“Abby, hey.” He reached for her, catching her arm and pulling her into his chest. “What happened? Is Liam...”

An inhuman sound fell from her lips, somewhere between a scream and a sob. Another followed, then another, crying, but yelling at the same time. She buried her face in his chest, body shaking.

This wasn’t like the panic attack she’d had at his place last spring. This was different. More. It scared him.

Her lips moved, but the words were unintelligible. Only his conversation with Cara gave him enough context to understand.

“He’s gone... He’s gone...” She repeated it again and again, and Scott’s own throat tightened.

“Abby, where’s Gen?” The dog would help her. Abby might have trained her for therapy, but she did as much for Abby, herself, as she did for others.

Abby stilled, face pressed into his shirt, fingers spasming in its folds. Then, a movement so slight he barely caught it. The most minute shake of her head, lips forming a single word.

No .

Grabbing her upper arms and pushing her away until he could lock eyes with her, he couldn’t help the way his hands trembled. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Abby’s face crumpled, and she dropped her head. She would have collapsed if not for his strength, and he crushed her to him again. “Okay, okay. When you’re ready. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Nonsense syllables poured from his lips as her body shook and tremored. When it seemed they’d finally tapered off, she’d catch little more than a single breath, then begin sobbing anew.

“Abby?” His shout broke the spell of her grief, and she raised swollen, bloodshot eyes to him. “Abby, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Liam’s gone,” she croaked, voice cracked and raw. “He’s gone, and Ethan’s alone...”

“Abby, what about Gen?” He interrupted her, afraid if he didn’t, she would once again dissolve into unintelligible sobs.

Abby bit her lip, shook her head, as if she couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. Then, taking a breath, a hysterical bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “She’s at the vet. I knew something was wrong. I knew it. I should have... I should have...”

Her knees gave way, and he sank with her to the floor. She wrapped both arms around her body, as if to keep herself from falling to pieces there, before him.

“I should have...” she mumbled again.

“Oh, Abby.” Pulling her to him, he lifted her off the floor and climbed the stairs to her bedroom, tucking her head beneath his chin as she continued to mumble.

Laying her on the bed, he tucked the blanket around her body, whispering reassurances.

“Sleep, now, Abby. Get some sleep. It’ll be better in the morning. Rest.”

He rose again, but her fingers clutched at his forearm. “Don’t leave me...”

Sinking down again, he nodded. “Okay. I won’t go. I’m right here.”

Her nails bit into his skin, but he ignored the sting, stretching himself out beside her and draping his other arm over her waist.

“I’m not going anywhere, Abby. I’m here for you.”

Abby woke slowly, a comforting weight across her stomach, and reached down to scratch the delicate bones of Gen’s head.

Instead of the expected fine fur, though, her hand slid over rough hair and across thick knuckles.

The previous night came back to her, and biting her lip, she fought back tears.

Still, she couldn’t fully overcome the sharp burn as she swallowed them away.

A tinkling of bells forced her back to the moment.

Rolling to one side, she squeezed Scott’s hand as he grunted in response, arm tightening around her.

She slid out of bed, paused until he settled back to sleep, then, hearing the bells again, she padded from the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Her phone sat on the kitchen bar, screen down, and Abby hesitated as she approached it. She didn’t want to talk to anyone; hadn’t wanted to since...

She shied from the thought.

But if it was the vet, she couldn’t afford to miss the call. Flipping it face up as if it were a striking scorpion, she half-hoped for someone else, half-feared it might be.

Seeing the screen, she squeezed her eyes closed and pulled it toward her. The weight of it, like lead instead of glass and plastic, dragged at her hand.

“Hello?”

Why did people still answer their phones this way, even with caller ID? The observation, though stupid, anchored her into the moment.

“Abby, this is Deanna at Dr. Stevens’ office.”

“Hey, hi.” Abby swallowed. “Is Gen...?”

“She made it through the night, but she’s pretty weak. You’re coming in today?”

“Yes, as soon as I can.”

“Okay, I’ll let Dr. Stevens know. The panels should be back soon, so we’ll have a better idea of what we’re facing.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Abby hung up, swallowed hard. Arms encircled her from behind and she allowed herself to melt into them. Turning, she forced herself to meet Scott’s eyes. The previous night, all bits and pieces and jagged, broken edges, haunted her memory.

Cheeks reddening, she dropped her chin, her gaze sliding away from his. “Sorry. About last night.”

Scott’s arms around her squeezed, hugging her close. “I’m not. I wish you would have called me. Would have told me.”

Her throat closed, a lump threatening to cut off breath along with words, but she nodded.

“What happened to Gen?”

Abby didn’t answer for a long time, swallowing back the tears threatening to erupt again. “She’s really sick. Dr. Stevens thinks... He thinks it might be cancer.”

“Thinks?”

“He needed to run some tests, but he’s pretty sure. I’m going in today to meet with him.”

Scott released her, checked his watch, then swore under his breath. “I can’t... I’m taking too much time off, already, for the hearings...”

“I know.” She pressed herself into the safety of his embrace and he obliged by wrapping his free arm around her again. “You have to go.”

“Call me when you know more?”

She nodded.

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I will.”

She went with him to the door, hated the way her body yearned after the comfort of his touch, even as it slipped away.

“Scott?” It came out a little wildly, her fear and abandonment filling her voice. “Thank you. For coming over. I should have called.”

Turning, he nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”