“You’re a great fucking dad and friend. You run the shit out of our business and you show up even when you’re uncomfortable because you’re dedicated to doin’ the hard things,” he says as he throws the truck into park behind a patrol car and turns to face me. “It’s okay that you’re figuring things out, and it’s okay that you’re feelin’ the way you do, but if you think I’m gonna let you sabotage this for the hell of it you’re out of your god damn mind.”
It’s impossible not to laugh by the end of his little rant, his permanent look of annoyance when anything like this comes up almost endearing.
And I’m thankful for it.
Because it’s nice to know I have someone who cares enough to call me out on my bullshit—especially now.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” He glances at the house and the people milling around the yard. “You got your head on straight? I think we’re takin’ fifteen so I need you to be with me on this.”
“I am.”
“Good. Text your boyfriend and let’s go.”
Without a glance back, he pushes out of the truck and moves to the group of people gathered by the front door as I grab my phone.
TANNER: We’re here and it’s going to be a long night
DEACON: Be safe
TANNER: I will
DEACON: The second you’re free I want you naked in my bed
TANNER: I need to go—I can’t have a hard-on right now
DEACON: Just saying…
At least that’ssomething to look forward to.
But for now, it’s time to get to work.
Any hopeI had of sneaking in a visit with Deacon was doused the minute Sorren and I stepped into the house to retrieve the dogs. It was chaos with people and dogs everywhere and no time to ease anyone into what we needed to do.
Two other rescues were on-site to help, but in the end we’d taken the majority of the aggressive dogs and the ones in need of immediate care. The growth and support we’ve nurtured over the last several years has ensured we can do this.
We can take the tough cases.
We can save the ones that others deem hopeless.
Like the pit bull staring back at me with her one good eye. She’d lost the other when she was a puppy, the sweet thing carrying the scars of her past, marring her gray and white coat. She didn’t have a name when she got here but I’d settled on Daisy, and despite my initial reluctance, I know she’s coming home with me when it’s time.
In the last week, I’ve barely seen the inside of my house. The only exception was an overnight with Briggs and as many hours as I could manage here and there to see my kid. Deacon had fallen in my priorities, and despite his reassurance that it was fine, it’s left me unsettled.
Can I really give him everything he needs?
So far, Vetted Paws has worked primarily the way it has because I’ve been able to cover the extra hours. We have help and employees, sure, but work doesn’t just stop with the dogs. We have our social media and website to maintain, interviews to keep us at the front of everyone’s mind, ordering food and materials, vetting adopters, and a whole host of other things that have become too much to effectively maintain.
“What are you still doing here?” Sorren says, sticking his head into the office before checking the black sport watch on his wrist. “You should have left hours ago.”
“We gotta hire people,” I admit, throwing my pen onto the desk and leaning back in the chair until it creaks. “I’m fucking tired.”
“How many?”
“Realistically?” When he nods I start counting off on my fingers. “We talked about internships for high school students but maybe it’s time we start looking at the college too. We need at least two full-time to care for the dogs, and one for social media—someone who understands trends because this shit is terrible.”
Sorren chuffs out a laugh. “What else?”
