Page 111 of In It to Win It

“Great,” I mutter.

“He could also pee a lot and seem restless,” she adds. “If he has tremors or a seizure or an elevated heart rate, you need to take him in right away.”

I feel around and find Byron’s heartbeat. Christ, I don’t know how fast a dog’s heart is supposed to be.

Chelsea arrives with more paper towels, and once again I clean up a mess. I have to admit I’m feeling like Harrison, my stomach roiling. I keep swallowing as I clean the carpet. Man, what a wuss I am.

“I’ll pay to have the rug cleaned professionally,” I tell Chelsea.

“Don’t be silly. It’s fine.”

“I think I’m going to take him home.” I check out Byron. He doesn’t look as happy as he did earlier. “No fun being sick, huh, buddy?”

“But we haven’t eaten!” Chelsea protests.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him. It’s been a disaster.”

Her lips twitch. “I’ve learned to expect that.”

I share a wan smile with her. Chelsea is . . . okay.

“I’ll make you a plate,” she says. “Dinner’s ready. You can heat it up at home.”

“That would be great.”

A few minutes later, she hands me a huge platter piled with turkey and dressing, potatoes and veggies, tightly wrapped in plastic. I know Byron’s not feeling well, because he shows no interest in it whatsoever.

I keep an eye on him as I drive home. He’s lethargic, rather than restless. So is that okay? Or is that worse?

When I get home, I take him for a short walk, then give him fresh water in the kitchen. I grab my phone to google “dog eats chocolate” and scroll through several results. It’s all pretty much what Everly said.

I sit beside Byron on the couch and stroke his back. “Sorry, dude. This is my fault. You don’t know any better.”

What the hell am I going to tell Taylor? He’d better be okay when she gets back tomorrow. My imagination runs wild, picturing telling her that Byron’s dead and I killed him. I almost feel like puking again, thinking about that. It would be the worst thing that could happen to her, and after her parents splitting up and having to move out, she sure as hell doesn’t need any more bad news.

This is what she gets for hanging around with me.

23

TAYLOR

“Do you want to see Byron?”

I asked Dad to drop me off at JP’s instead of my place, which we have to basically pass by anyway, and when we get there I realize he hasn’t seen Byron since we moved out.

“Yeah, I would.” He puts his car in park. “Haven’t seen the mongrel for a while. I’ll get to meet this hockey player you’re seeing, too.”

Eeeep.

I’ve texted JP so he knows this. I have a key, so we head right up and I knock on his door.

He opens it and my heart sighs at the sight of him. He’s wearing soft, faded jeans and a navy long-sleeved Henley. He looks . . . tired. Huh. “Hi.”

“Hey, Sunshine.” He curls an arm around my neck and kisses my temple. Then his gaze shifts behind me to my dad.

“This is my dad, Carlos. Dad, this is JP Wynn. Dad wanted to see Byron.”

“Hope it’s not any trouble,” Dad says, extending a hand to JP.

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