I’ve been telling myself that for over a decade.
Maybe I’ve got some commitment issues.
“Do you think the dog will be okay?” she asks. Those beautiful chocolate eyes are fixed on me with a mixture of hope, worry, and pleading.
I don’t want to devastate this girl, but I don’t want to give her false hope either.
“The vet will tell us,” I say instead. “You’ve done everything you can.”
I turn up the volume dial on the radio. It’s not that I don’t want to have a conversation with her. It’s just that I’m no good at small talk and don’t know how to fill an awkward silence. I also want to try and distract her from her worry a little bit.
On the radio, one of my brother’s new hit songs he wrote with his wife comes ringing through the speakers. Lila seems to relax a little listening to it, shoulders losing some tension.
“I love this song,” she says.
“My brother and my sister-in-law wrote it.”
“Really? That’s so cool!”
“She’s talented. So’s my brother, but don’t ever tell him I said that. Walker’s got a big enough head already.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait. Slade Rhodes… Walker Rhodes is your brother?”
“Yeah. He’s a piece of work, but he’s good at what he does, I’ll give him that.”
I wait for the zillion questions about my extremely famous brother, but they don’t come. She just glances back at the dog again.
“Thank you for helping,” she says. “I don’t think I could have lifted a dog this size into my car.”
“Not a problem.”
My twinging shoulder says otherwise, but I’m used to ignoring that particular pain.
As she crosses her legs, I glance automatically at her shapely thighs in those bright pink tights. This is far from the time or place to be appreciating her body, but it’s pretty much impossible to ignore how gorgeous she is.
Appreciating it is one thing; doing something about it is another. And I’m not going to do anything about it.
I’m not going to ask her out.
I’m taking the season off while my shoulder heals, and when it does, I’ll move to a new city with my new team. Anything I started now would be doomed from the beginning, and I’ve had enough of watching good things end. I’m real clear on that.
I stare resolutely at the road. “I didn’t introduce myself properly yet. I’m Slade.”
Something softens in her expression, a small smile, like I’ve done something unexpectedly sweet without knowing it.
“Of course. We must make proper introductions.” A gentle teasing lilt. “Lila. Nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
She twists around to look at the dog, whose eyes are open and blinking, still impressively alert despite the injury.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she coos. “We’re going to take care of you.”
There’s a doggy snuffle in response, like it understands and believes her.
“I should call ahead to the vet,” Lila says. “Let them know we’re coming.”
While I drive, she calls the clinic and lets them know there’s an emergency coming in. By the time we get there, all hands are already on deck to take the dog in. Dr. Monroe is waiting for us, along with her team of vet techs.
After a flurry of activity, the X-rays reveal no internal bleeding or spinal damage, Dr. Monroe tells us. “She won’t be paralyzed,” she says, “which is the good news.”
