Page 13 of Northern Escape


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She shook her head, but still didn’t turn around. “I called you so that you’d know he’s in trouble. So that maybe you could talk to the police because they won’t listen to me. I don’t expect you to follow me out there.”

“And yet here I am. One thing you need to learn about me, Bree. I very rarely do what’s expected.”

She harrumphed. “That’s dangerous.”

“Hmm, let’s go with ‘exciting.’”

She spun around and scowled at him. “Dangerous.”

He grinned. Why did he find her exasperation so endearing? He always thought he liked the women in L.A. and the way they threw themselves at him, but Bree wasn’t interested. If anything, all she wanted from him was for him to go away.

He had no intention of going away.

He’d be lying if he said her indifference didn’t spark his interest. She was so unlike the women he was used to, and not just because of the way she looked. She was fierce and independent. She didn’t need a man’s constant attention to be happy. And he absolutely could not picture the likes of Mrs. Cavendish back-burnering her own goals and putting herself at risk to help a friend.

“Fine,” Bree finally said, the single word as brittle as new ice. “But you’re pulling your own weight, California. We leave tomorrow morning, six a.m. I’ll text you directions to the airfield. Don’t be late or we’re leaving without you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced over at their dogs again and her features softened. “Leave Peanut with someone you trust. It’s too dangerous for her out there.”

Aaaand dismissed.

She all but booted him out into the snow. Didn’t even let him finish his coffee.

He stared as the door shut in his face. “What just happened?”

Peanut gave a shiver in response and he tucked her into the front of his jacket.

“Women don’t kick me out,” he muttered as he trudged through the snow to his rented truck. Peanut gave a dreamy little sigh and he frowned down at the pup. She had a blissed-out look in her eyes as if she just shot up the best drug known to dog-kind. He suspected he knew the name of that drug— Norte.

“Uh-uh. You can’t fall for him. He’s too old for you. And you’re too young to even be thinking about that yet.” Was she? He didn’t know her exact age. Maybe she was older than he suspected, and he needed to start considering her spay surgery. Yet another thing he couldn’t afford.

Well, Bree was right about one thing. He needed to find someone to watch over Peanut while he was out in the bush. Maybe he could kennel her at Northern Rescue. She’d hate it, but she’d hate it less than traveling across the Alaskan wilderness.

If there was even anyone at Northern Rescue anymore.

5

Even after all these years, and all the changes around the city, Ellis could still find his way. Northern Rescue Animal Hospital was like his true north. In all the turmoil of his childhood, it had been the one bright spot. His happy place.

Only it didn’t look happy when he pulled into the lot.Neglectedwas a better description. The gutters sagged. The paint had mostly peeled off the sign, leaving only a headless dog, a tail without a cat, and a faded warning.

NO RES PIT.

At its height, Northern Rescue had been a booming four-doctor practice. Two of those doctors had been his parents and he fondly remembered spending his earliest years playing among the patients and staff.

That all changed when Mom died.

He’d been six when his life fell apart. The other doctors saw Will spinning out of control and left before he could damage their reputations, too.

Ellis had always known his father would eventually run this place into the ground. With all of Will’s drinking and gambling, it had been inevitable. Surprising, really, that it took this long.

Even so, being here now, seeing the end result, was beyond heartbreaking.

The glass had been broken out of the front door and someone had very recently tried to patch it with plywood. He reached out, gave the door a shove. It wasn’t locked. Keeping one hand on Peanut so she wouldn’t jump out of his jacket again, he carefully went inside.

It was like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed. The U-shaped reception desk still sat in the center of the lobby with its chipping blue countertop. The line of chairs still sagged along the left wall under faded cartoon pictures of dogs and cats, now adorned with graffiti. The three exam rooms stood along the right wall. All gutted, one of them down to the studs. He used to complain bitterly about having to clean those rooms—especially if an infectious animal had been in one of them for ringworm or kennel cough. Even all these years later, the smell of bleach still threw him right back here, mopping the floors and scrubbing the walls.

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