Page 7 of Fool Me

He’s safe now, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way. Once we’re back, he’ll need IV fluids and careful cooling. I don’t know when we’ll see his handler, but Echo’s staying with us overnight either way. Dogs like him—dogs who do the kind of work he does—are vital to a community like Timberline Peak. He’s special, and I’m going to keep a close eye on him—take every precaution. By the time this is over, the two of us are going to know each other pretty well.

Grace backs up to the building, putting the truck in park and jumping out to hold the door open for me. Taking Echo straight back to the treatment area, I set him on the table. Grace is a step behind me, getting the IV started.

“Any fun surprises I can expect, like with Mrs. Franklin?”

Grace snickers beside me. I look up from bandaging the insertion site to glare at her.

“Sorry, Dr. Kane. But you have to admit it was funny.”

“It’s just Atlas, or Dr. Atlas, if you must.” A frown pulls at her lips. “But I don’t think Mrs. Franklin would agree with you.”

“Pretty sure Harlowe hasn’t taught Echo to talk. So you don’t have to worry about that,Dr. Atlas.” She stresses those last two words more than necessary.

“Hilarious. Let’s just focus on getting our guy taken care of before she gets here, and then maybe I won’t have to defend why I’m wearing tennis shoes instead of loafers like Dr. McMullins.” I pat Echo, moving to his head to check on him before starting the bloodwork. “Your mom’s going to be reasonable, isn’t she, big guy?”

Harlowe Corbin is reasonable, or as reasonable as a spooked mustang kicking up dust when she runs through my door. She’s as elegant as a wild horse, too. Her long blonde braid is whipping around her shoulders as she looks for her dog. Even in her panic, there’s a steady strength pouring off her. Fire and fear dance in her light blue eyes, like she’s ready to fight if needed—untamed in her protectiveness over Echo.

The strap of her white sports bra sticks out of the oversized flannel hanging off her shoulder. A pair of black hiking pants hug her hips.

She charges up to the desk, where I’m currently sitting, her long fingers curling around the edge. “Where’s Echo? Is he okay?” Her eyes dart around the waiting area. I sent Grace home hours ago, opting to wait for Harlowe myself, figuring she’d want to see Echo even though it’s technically after hours. The office is twenty yards from home, so it’s not like I wouldn’t have been around.

“You must be Harlowe. I’m Atlas. Your boy has been a model patient. He’s resting right now, but you can see him,” I tell her calmly.

The relief rolls off her in waves, but her eyes still harbor distrust as she confirms, “He’s good?”

“He’s good. I’d like to monitor him overnight, but it’s more for my peace of mind than anything else.”

Just like that, the stubborn set of shoulders is back. “I’m staying.”

Um. What? I’m about to tell her “no” when she holds up a hand. “Echo got me through the worst day of my life, and I won’t leave him on his worst day.”

Well, fuck. If I have a soft spot, she sniffed it out because I relent, nodding in agreement. I’d planned to stick around to monitor Echo tonight, and after a week alone in my house, having company doesn’t sound terrible. All that was waiting for me before she showed up was admin work and a hard cot anyway.

I hold my hand out, ushering her to the back where Echo’s resting in a crate getting fluids.

She goes straight to him, squatting, her fingers slotting through the bars and rubbing his paw.

“His case of heatstroke was mild.” I push a hand through my hair, leaning against the wall of empty crates beside her. Echo is our only overnight guest. “Keeping him is probably overkill, but I know how important it is for a dog like Echo to keep working.”

“Did he have a seizure, or vomit?”

“Nope, when I got him off the chopper, his temperature was trending down from one hundred and five, and he perked right up after some fluids and more time to cool off.”

“And his blood work?” she asks, each question coming in quick succession.

“He needed some electrolytes, but nothing that showed lasting damage to his kidneys or liver.” Harlowe nibbles at her lip like she has a list of questions trapped behind it. I can see the need for reassurance written all over her face. I roll the leather chair from the desk in the corner over for her to sit on and lift myself to take a seat on the table.

It’s been a long day. Before Grace left, I ran home to feed the nightmarethat lives in my backyard, and then rushed back to relieve her so I could stick around until Harlowe showed up. “Tell me what happened today—walk me through it.”

She watches me skeptically, like she doesn’t trust me yet. I hold up my hands to explain myself. “I’d like to hear how Echo ended up getting heatstroke, just to make sure I’m not overlooking any other concerns.”

“We were on a call for an injured hiker in the basin. He couldn’t tell us his exact location and it wasn’t supposed to be this humid. I checked the weather, packed extra water, and we took lots of breaks. But by the time we got to the hiker, Echo was already in trouble. I knew making him hike out was dangerous, so we sent him down on the chopper.”

I consider everything she’s told me before saying, “Every decision you made today was the right decision. Cooling him down and getting him out of there fast is the reason tonight isjust a precaution. You did good, Harlowe.” Her name rolls off my tongue and I realize I’ve quickly let this get personal. Letting her stay, talking to her like this without the formalities of doctor and handler feels good. It feels like how I want to run this practice—like how I want my life to be now that I’m back.

“No, I should have left him home.”

“And would you have found Matt as fast without him?”

---