Page 38 of Rumours and Romance
I tried to get her alone at the bakery this morning, but she gave me the smallest smile, accompanied by a faint blush on her cheeks, before darting back into the kitchen. She claimed she had muffins that needed to go in the oven, but it felt more like an excuse to avoid me.
I’m trying to convince myself this is for the best. That creating some space now will make our eventual “breakup” easier. But easier on who? The truth is, I miss her. I miss eating pizza on her back porch, I miss holding her hand while we walk Milo, I miss kissing her over coffee at the bakery.
When I moved to Dogwood Cove I was looking to move on from the rubble of my life in Vancouver. I made the conscious decision to not entertain even the idea of a relationship, not just because my heart was still damaged from my ex, but because I didn’t want anything or anyone clouding my thoughts while I focused on my career. Then I met Mila Monroe, and little by little she weaved her way into my life, and my heart.
She’s more than just a friend. I’m not fully ready to admit how much more, but I can’t deny it anymore, either. The same way I can’t deny how easy it was to be with her, even if we were only pretending. She has shown me that the balance I’ve always sought in life is possible, and it’s given me a shred of hope that I don’t have to be alone forever.
I’ve been hitting the beach almost every day, getting in as much paddling as I can before the weather starts to turn colder. Every time I pull into the parking lot, I scan for Mila’s blue Jeep, but I haven’t seen her and Milo there in a while. She’s definitely avoiding me.
After four days of this, I’m resolved to find her tomorrow and convince her to talk to me. Call it being a concerned friend, I don’t care, I need to know what’s wrong and how I can fix it.
I push myself on the water today, paddling for over two hours. When I get home I still have an unfamiliar nervous energy coursing through me, so I head back out for a run in the twilight. Finally my body has had enough, and I fall asleep shortly after getting home and showering. It’s a lot earlier than I normally go to bed, but trying to make sense of Mila and I is as emotionally exhausting as my strenuous workouts are physically exhausting. Some time later, I’m in the middle of a bizarre dream involving dancing parrots and a trumpet that talks, when the shrill sound of my phone ringing jolts me awake. I fumble for it on my nightstand. Mila’s name flashes on the call display, and I immediately tap to answer.
“Mila? Are you okay?” I ask groggily, fighting back a yawn.
“Jackson? I need you, it’s Milo. Something’s wrong.” She’s crying, and the hysteria in her voice startles me to full alertness immediately. “He started limping earlier, and when I went to take him out to use the bathroom tonight, he yelped when he tried to walk. Now he’s just lying on his side and he won’t get up.”
“I’m on my way.”
I don’t bother waiting for her response before ending the call and rushing out of bed and into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Thankfully, I’ve still got a bag of supplies and equipment in my car from a house call I did after clinic hours for an elderly couple who can’t bring their cat to the clinic easily. It takes me less than five minutes from the time she called and I’m in my car speeding through the night to Mila’s house. Milo’s leg seemed like it was healing well, so hearing that he’s in so much pain has me really worried.
I pull into her driveway, not caring that I’m parked crookedly. I do remember to close my car door gently, since I doubt her neighbours want to be awake at two am any more than I do. But right now Milo, and Mila, are more important than sleep.
I don’t bother knocking, twisting the door handle in hopes that she’s unlocked it. She has. Inside, the lights are low and I can hear her voice speaking softly from the kitchen. I walk swiftly down the hall to find her on the floor beside Milo’s bed. She looks up at me with tears streaming down her face.
“Help him, Jackson.” Her voice is broken, so I drop a kiss to her head before assessing Milo.
He’s on his side, and for the first time since I met the dog, he doesn’t get up to come and greet me. That alone tells me something is wrong. I check his breathing and his heart rate. Both seem to be normal, although slightly elevated. Which is to be expected if he’s in pain.
“What did you guys do today?” I ask, partly to distract Mila from her worry, but more importantly to try and get a sense of what could have caused his pain and distress.
“I took him to work, we went for a walk on my lunch break, then after the bakery closed, we went down to the beach. He was limping a bit when we got home, but I didn’t think it was anything serious. When we got home he laid down on his bed and he hasn’t moved since then. He wouldn’t even eat dinner. I thought I could wait and bring him in to the clinic tomorrow, but when he yelped earlier, I panicked. I’m sorry for waking you up.”
I stop what I’m doing and turn to her. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you called me. Not just because I’m Milo’s vet, but because I care about both of you.”
She gives me a watery smile and I turn back to the dog lying before me. I continue to run my hands over his body, checking his front legs, both of which seem to be fine, and his torso. He gives my arm a small lick and the simple gesture of trust makes me smile. But that smile turns to a frown when I reach his back leg, the one that was injured, and I feel the inflammation in his joint.
“He’s definitely strained his bad leg somehow.” I go to mobilize his leg, and Milo whimpers. Mila drops her head down to his and starts to whisper to him. Whatever she’s doing calms him, so I start to gently massage the area, pushing some of the swelling out of the area so I can get a better feel for the joint underneath. Slowly but surely, I work at it until I can move his leg with a bit more ease. I stand up and go to the freezer, looking for an ice pack. Finding one, I grab the dish towel from where it hangs on the oven door, wrap up the ice pack, and hold it on his leg.
“Can you hold this here for a minute?” I ask Mila. She places her hand where mine was on the ice pack, and I go to my bag for a tensor bandage. When that’s loosely wrapped around the ice pack, keeping it securely in place, I rummage around for the pain killers I know I have with me. Standing back up, I slice some cheese I find in the fridge, remembering it as Milo’s favourite treat, and then I try to tempt him to take the medicine.
“It’s kind of funny how comfortable you are in my kitchen.” Mila’s offhand observation is said with a small smile, and I’m relieved to see she’s a lot less upset than when I first arrived.
“Sorry, I should have asked before I just started grabbing stuff.”
She touches my arm lightly, but I feel the warmth in my soul. “No, I like the fact that you just got what you needed. We’re friends.”
“Yeah. Friends.” Not for the first time, that damn word leaves a strange feeling behind. “I’m going to go and check my car for a sling. We might need to help Milo stay off his leg for a few days to rest it.”
Mila nods, her eyes downcast on Milo, and I head outside. In the cool, dark night, I take in a deep breath and blow it all out, feeling the adrenaline rush slowly fade. Thank God it wasn’t something more serious. I want to get an x-ray of Milo’s leg, just to be sure, but that can wait until tomorrow.
When I walk back into the kitchen, what I find makes me freeze mid-step. Mila’s leaning against the cabinets just like she was when I left, but her eyes are closed, and it looks like she has fallen asleep. Milo is stretched out beside her, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable anymore. I unstrap the ice pack, not wanting to leave it on too long. Then I move his food and water bowl close by before stooping down low and lifting Mila into my arms.
“Jackson?” she says sleepily, and I kiss her head.
“Shh. Let me get you to bed. Milo will be fine now.”
She makes an adorable soft noise of content and nestles into my arms. I walk the short distance to her bedroom and manage to lay her down on the mattress. I pull the blanket up and turn to leave when her voice stops me.
