But maybe later—definitely later.
Instead, he rolls back onto his side and drops the slimy phone in her lap.
“Oh! A phone? You took this from home, boy?” She doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, much to her own disgust. “Ew, it’s soaking wet. Fuck. Gross, gross. Hang on,” she says to herself and grabs her bag, where she pulls out a wet wipe and a few tissues.
She wipes the phone off and then uses the tissues to clean the extra drool from Rowan’s chin. “Okay, let’s see. It’s not locked? You tell your person that is a personal security hazard. Let’s see if the last number knows who you are.”
Rowan barks—because they do! It’s louder than he’d expected, and it knocks her out of her crouch and onto her ass.
She just laughs and rubs between his ears. It feels really nice. Even her voice is calming.
“Dude! Your bark has rizz. Makes me wonder about your bite.”
The phone rings just once before Finn answers. “Where have you been?”
“Uh… hello? My name is Winnie, and I think I have your dog.”
“Who is this?” Finn’s voice is suspicious.
“Winnie Chappelle? I am in front of the WCH, and your dog had this phone in his mouth. Yours is the last number that called.”
“My dog?” he says again.
Come on, Finn, figure it out.
“You don’t have a dog? He’s gigantic, like huge. He’s reddish-brown, with green eyes, looks like a wolf, and is kinda smart.”
Kinda smart? Rowan’s wolf is offended and gives a small growl of protest, nudging her elbow.
She laughs. “Okay, he took offense at that. He’sverysmart and also very handsome. Yes, you are…is that better, boy?” She coos and ruffles his ears again.
It’s still nice.
“My big, reddish-brown green-eyed wolf-dog who is handsome but not so smart,” he mutters, and then, “Holy shit. I’ll be right down. Thanks for calling.”
She disconnects on her end and drops the phone into her pocket so she can rub both of his ears this time.
“He seems nice, even if he wasn’t too quick on the draw. I guess maybe he’s distracted. I can empathize.”
Rowan rubs his nose on her shoulder at her scent of sadness, offering a bit of comfort.
“My brother is sick, you know? He’s been sick off and on for a while. They don’t know why he’s worse now, and…shit…” Winnie sniffles, and she rubs her nose on the top of his head.
He ignores her snotting on him because she’s obviously really sad. Rowan understands more than he’d like what it feels like to lose someone you love.
“It’s just the two of us, you know? So I gotta work—but I’d rather be here with him.”
The doors to the hospital hiss open, and Rowan feels an overwhelming flood of relief to see Gideon and Finn jogging through the parking lot toward them. Gideon looks haggard and oddly fragile in a wrinkled scrub top, but he brings with him that scent of smoky pine Rowan was sure he’d never smell again.
“Holy shitballs,” Winnie whispers. “Do you think they’re straight?”
Rowan would laugh if he could, because nope. He can’t help but agree, though. No matter how tired and sad, they’re still all hotter than fire.
Instead, he chuffs and licks her hand.
“Nah, me either—but wow.”
Finn approaches first, and Rowan realizes they aren’t sure it’s him. So he gives Winnie a last lick of gratitude, jumping up so he can lick Finn’s face. His mate startles, and Rowan hears a growl from Gideon—just in case Rowan is, in fact, just a big scary wolf-dog.
