The words tangled in my throat. I needed to fix this. Make her understand that this wasn't about her competence, it never was.
“These dogs depend on me to find them good homes.” I kept my voice level, clinical. “I can't risk?—”
“Risk what? That I might actually care?” Her laugh held no humor. “You really don't know me if you don't think I care.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
She was right. Ididn'tknow her. Didn't know anything beyond the basics—Walt's niece, who took over the farm, showed up covered in mud chasing goats.
But I'd seen how she looked at Pudding. The worry in her voice when she asked about him. The way she'd driven back into town just to check on a puppy she'd met for five minutes.
She cares.
And I'd just made her feel like that didn't matter.
I opened my mouth, trying to find words that would fix this mess. But my brain just kept circling the same useless thoughts—explain the process, make her understand, protect the dogs—none of which would help.
I forced myself to look at her.
The hurt in her eyes stopped me cold.
Not anger. Not frustration.
Hurt.
Raw and unguarded, there for just a second before she blinked it away.
“Forget it.” She turned toward the door, then paused at the threshold, not quite looking back. “Thanks for saving him. Let me know how much I owe for the name.”
Something cracked in my chest as the door swung shut behind her.
Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. The recovery room felt smaller somehow, emptier, despite Pudding's steady breathing and the hum of the equipment.
I'd screwed that up spectacularly.
“Well.” Sharon's voice cut through the silence. “That was impressive.”
I turned. She stood arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that way that meant I was about to get the lecture I deserved.
“I didn't mean?—”
“Mm-hmm.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. “I was trying to explain that the adoption process is complicated. And?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“She took it the wrong way.”
Sharon's eyebrow climbed higher.
“Fine.” I turned back to Pudding, checking his breathing even though I'd checked it thirty seconds ago. “I handled it badly.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I should apologize.”
“Mm-hmm.”
