Page 75 of Vetted for Vengeance

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Rhys was right about not having to do everything myself.

They aren't just helping me; they're helping my dogs without being asked. Without guidance.

Figgy sits up, moving further onto me, licking her tongue across my face. She's licking away the tears I didn't realize were falling.

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, pressing my forehead gently against hers.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I know. I know.”

But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t know what this is.

None of them do.

This isn’t just another room.

It isn’t just better lighting, softer floors, warmer beds.

This is the first time in eight years that everything hasn’t been balanced on whether I can keep up.

I glance up.

Tree is crouched beside Honey, calmly guiding a pup toward a teat.

Martha is lining Pumpkin’s basket with fresh bedding, talking softly as if she’s done this a hundred times.

Chloe sits cross-legged with Toffee, one hand on her flank, completely at ease, as if she belongs here.

No one is rushing or shouting. No one is waiting for me to fix it. They’re just… doing it.

Helping. I swallow hard.

For so long, every second mattered. Every delay cost something. Every mistake showed. Every weakness… punished.

Here…

I shift slightly, adjusting Figgy’s smallest pup without thinking. Here, I can pause. And nothing breaks.

The room feels full in a way I don’t recognize. Not crowded. Not overwhelming. Just… shared.

Like the weight has been divided without anyone needing to say it out loud.

“I thought I had to do it all,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

Tree glances over, offering me a small, knowing smile, but she doesn’t interrupt.

She doesn’t need to.

I look back down at Figgy, at the steady rise and fall of her breathing, at the pups tucked safely against her.

At the calm.

“I don’t, do I?” I add quietly.

Figgy just huffs, settling deeper into the bed, her paw pressing lightly against my leg like she’s anchoring me there.

And for once…

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