Page 99 of Tough Love

Adam.

He would have been in his ear about this. Sweet-talking him. He probably told him I was flailing, not coping. That absolute fucking asshole. This is not the first time he has done something like this. Why does he always do this? Always swinging in like a wrecking ball to anything good in my life.

This time I am not standing for his bullshit. He thinks he can manipulate me into coming home and straight back to him. Since I have been so caught up in the roundup and other priorities, mainly Hudson, I haven’t fleshed out any job opportunities after Lewistown. I could take Joe up on his offer, for six months at least, until I can find another contract somewhere.

“I have a nine o’clock,” I say and walk out of his office and to my treatment room. A little old lady, greyed hair and light green cardigan over a pale-pink dress stands with a cage housing a cat.

“Morning, Mrs. Johnson. What’s Felix up to today, hey?”

“Well last night, he was acting strange and this morning he threw up everywhere in the kitchen...”

I listen as she recounts Felix’s last twenty-four hours as I coax him out of his cage. But I’m not even listening. Not really. Everything is out of whack.

Like I have changed irreparably.

Everything I thought I knew about myself, my world, and my place in it has shifted. I feel unhinged and less certain.

I know where my anchor is.

In a half-built house on a ranch that is the first time I have felt at home and alive in over a decade.

“Dear . . .”

The word is muffled, the sounds only just audible.

“Dear? Are you alright?”

Mrs. Johnson’s hand blurs in front of my face. She waves it side to side.

I stutter through a burning breath.

Tears burn my eyes. “Not really,” I utter.

“Maybe you should sit down, sweetheart?”

A fine, papery-thin hand guides me to the rolling office chair by my desk.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll find Sally.”

“No, please, I’m fine. I . . . I?—”

She peeks back to her cat, now roaming the small treatment room like a tourist. “You know what, I think Felix ate one too many lizards. I am sure he will be fine.”

“No, I will check him out, give me a moment.”

“Oh honey, I know that face.” She offers a sad smile and pats my hand.

I work my way through a handful of deep, steady breaths. “What do I do about it?”

“There is only one choice. You follow your heart, no matter the risk.”

I huff out a strangled laugh. “I was afraid you would say that. And that’s not an option.”

“Then time and distance always help.” She gives me her best condolence face. I push from the chair and scoop up Felix. I feel his belly. It’s soft and pliable. No obvious hard lumps or anomalies. I check down his throat, listen to his heart and lungs. A little on the thin side, but he is fit as a fiddle. Will most likely outlive his owner.

“Felix is fine. You were probably right, one too many lizards. Some more food, a little more if you can. And he should be fine.”

---