Page 7 of You and Me, For Real
“That dog is limping.”
Luke tracks it with his gaze, the same as me. “Sure is. Poor guy.”
Our light turns green, but Luke keeps the car idling. We both watch, making sure it crosses safely. It’s panting, its ribs protruding through its skin, its fur covered in filth.
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been stateside, Luke, but green means go.” Dad inserts.
Luke grips the wheel tighter and presses the gas.
“Wait!” I can’t help myself. The SUV lurches to a stop. “We can’t just leave it.”
Dad ignores the suffering dog and goes right back to his phone. “Sure we can. It’ll be fine. We’re going to be late. Go, Luke.”
I clench my jaw, hating how much my father still treats me like a child.
Luke looks at me. “What do you want to do?” I appreciate his loyalty, heeding me instead of my father.
My heart beats in my ribcage. It’s a minor thing—to stop for a dog. There are probably hundreds of homeless dogs in Los Angeles. And yet, guilt presses me all the same. “Pull over.”
Luke pulls into an empty parallel parking spot.
“Son, this is ridiculous. We don’t have ti?—”
I open and close my door before he can finish and jog across the street toward the dog. It’s collapsed on the sidewalk into some shade in front of a surf shop.
“Hey there, fella.” I crouch near it.
It curls tighter into a ball and looks away. I note it’s actually a female. The poor thing is breathing heavily. I wish I’d grabbed my water bottle. She’s probably thirsty. Her back leg has a wound—fresh enough that the blood is red. Flies buzz around her, but she’s too tired to care. Her fur is covered in dirt, marring its golden-tan color. There’s no collar.
Luke hollers from across the street. “Is it okay?”
“Not sure. Doesn’t look too great. Can you search the GPS for a vet nearby?”
“Sure.” He slips back into the vehicle.
I don’t care what my dad says. I never want to be the kind of person who’s too busy to help someone hurting—even if it is a dog. I inch closer. Her head lifts. Her eyes study me, but she’s too weak to care.
“I’m going to get you some help, girl. Okay?” I reach under and scoop her into my arms.
Luke meets me at the rear passenger door, opening it. “The closest vet is a few miles away, but there’s a shelter within a mile.”
“Griffin, we don’t have time for this nonsense. We’re already going to be late as it is.” My dad shifts in his seat, pressing against his door like this weak, hurting dog has rabies.
Gently, I lay her in the seat. I pull my gym bag from the floorboard and grab a shirt. “It’s fine. We have time.” I wrap her injured back leg. “Luke, let’s just go to the shelter. They’ll surely be able to get her some help.”
“Got it.” Luke jogs around the SUV and selects the address in the GPS.
“We’re going to take care of you, girl, okay?” I close the door and slip into the passenger seat.
I may not be able to control every aspect of my career, but for this one, small moment, I can do something I want to do for a change.
3
ASHTON
Ablack SUV squeals to a stop two feet from me in the shelter’s parking lot.
My stomach drops to my feet just as my heart leaps into my throat. The smell of burnt rubber singes my nostrils, punctuating the fact I was nearly run over walking back into work.
