Page 110 of In It to Win It

He turns big brown eyes up to me. I look up at the others. “Should I take him to the vet?”

“It’s Christmas Day. I’m sure vets aren’t open,” Mom says fretfully. She crouches and runs a hand over Byron’s head.

“There must be an emergency hospital for animals or something.” Shit. I have no idea what to do. My heart races, pulsing in my ears. My hands go clammy.

Everyone is gathered around now, all wearing expressions of dismay.

Christ. Taylor’s going to kill me. Literally. If something happens to her beloved dog on my watch, she’ll never forgive me. Why thefuckdid I offer to do this? I should have known! I can’t be counted on for anything. “Stay alive, buddy. Please. Stay alive.” I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it—I have to talk to him.

Everly takes charge, grabbing her phone and pulling up Google. “Okay, there’s an emergency animal hospital not far from here. Should I call?”

“Yeah!”

She makes the call and explains the situation.

“How much does he weigh?” she asks me, lowering her phone.

“I have no idea!”

“Lift him up,” Asher says helpfully.

“Christ.” I pick up Byron. “He’s heavy.”

“I have my bathroom scale.” Chelsea scurries away and returns with the scale.

I try to set Byron on the device, but he’s not having it. So I pick him up again and step on with both of us. “I can’t see it,” I say, my arms full of dog. “What is it, Ash?”

“Two . . . seventy?”

“How much do you weigh?” Everly demands.

“Two-oh-six.”

Ash snorts.

“What? Close enough.”

“He’s sixty-four pounds,” Everly says into the phone. She listens, then lowers the phone again. “How much chocolate did he eat?”

Harrison grabs the mangled box. “This is . . . ten ounces.”

Everly relays this through the phone, but there are more questions. “What kind of chocolate? Dark? Milk?”

“Jesus! It’s chocolate!” I’m sweating and losing patience.

Mom pats my arm. “Calme-toi.”

“It was different kinds,” Chelsea answers. “From La Rochelle.” She names an expensive chocolate place. “Never mind, that doesn’t matter. It has dark, milk chocolate, and white chocolate.”

Everly listens, nodding. “Okay. No, he seems okay right now.”

At that moment Byron starts making disgusting noises. We all stare at him helplessly as he heaves and retches and heaves and eventually horks up a repulsive mass of food all over Chelsea’s expensive Kashmir carpet.

“Oh, he just vomited,” Everly says calmly into her phone.

Harrison makes a gagging noise and bolts.

Everly’s listening, nodding and pacing. “Okay, thank you,” she finally says and ends the call. “Okay, they said for his weight and with it not all being dark chocolate, he should be okay, especially if he just vomited. That’s what they would get him to do if we took him in. So they said to keep an eye on him. He could also have diarrhea?—”

---