“How’s it going in here?” A voice said from behind them. It was Evan.
“He’s probably going to need stitches on his feet. He will definitely need bandaged. These are some deep cuts. His nose is a mess, too.” Meg frowned deeply at the sliced up animal that only gave them whimpers and whines but seemed to relax as much as possible under Meg’s gentle touch.
“When you get him out of the tub, Sloan and I will look at him and see what we can do,” Evan offered.
“Are you vets?” Meg asked.
“No, but Sloan is a medical doctor and I’m sort of a medical genius—self-taught. Together, we’ll figure out what your Maze needs to get well.”
Meg looked pointedly at the tall boy in the doorway and asked, “How old are you?”
“I’ll be fourteen at the end of October,” Evan answered patiently.
“Sorry,” she shrugged. “There’s just so much I don’t know.”
“It’s going to take time, but Meg, you are my sister and I will take all the time you need and answer any question you have so don’t worry about asking, okay?”
“Okay.” Meg sighed deeply, looking as if a wave of exhaustion was crashing over her.
Thirty minutes later, Creed and Meg had Maze out of the tub, towel-dried and laying on a pile of blankets.
“Meg, why don’t you go clean up while Evan and Sloan work on Maze?” Creed suggested.
“You look in need of a good cleaning yourself,” Meg nodded to the blood stains on his shirt with a tentative half-smile. “I’d rather stay with Maze while they work on him. You go first, okay?”
Creed pursed his lips together and nodded once before turning to walk away. He had some thinking to do and he always did do some of this best thinking in the shower. On his way, he grabbed a clean change of clothes and a fresh towel.
Maybe I just need to give her some space, he thought sadly. Maybe the new Meg wants something other than to be tied down to a block-headed soldier raised to be a killing machine. He grimaced at the thoughts spinning in his head, but forced himself to move with purpose. Suck it up, soldier. You always knew you weren’t good enough for her. Leave her alone and maybe, just maybe, you can win her back. He moved with fluid grace through the motions of cleaning up, but his thoughts never left the dark-eyed angel, as miserable as it made him feel.
On the other side of the house Meg sat barefoot beside Maze. She still wore the torn black dress she’d been in when she woke after the helo crash. Her tired eyes watched Evan and Sloan as they inspected his wounds. Instinctively, she kept a slow, methodical rub going between his alert ears, careful to avoid his muzzle as it was covered with painful-looking gashes. Even her untrained eyes could see it was swollen and if she sat still enough and watched, she could see it throbbing in time with the beat of the coydog’s heart.
The more she touched him though, the more at peace he seemed and truth be told, Meg just felt more content when she was near the sad creature. He really was important to her. Meg could feel it even through the fog of her blackened memories. Maze mattered.
“I could use stitches, but butterfly bandages would work even better if we could get him not to bite or lick them away,” Sloan sighed. “But my real concern is hydration and infection. That, and I noticed how tender he is in his belly. This canine needs a vet, Evan. We don’t have the proper facility, training or meds to treat him ourselves.”
As much as Sloan’s words worried Meg, she found herself appreciating the girl more and more for her professionalism. She seemed to work on a level of logic and intellect—the polar opposite of Meg’s own sense of emotion that ruled every minute of her life.
As it was, she had to force herself to stay away from Creed. The magnetism she felt for him was so real it was as though she could reach out and touch it. Was it warranted? Should she feel such a connection to that hulking soldier with watchful blue eyes? Nothing felt assured or completely safe around these strangers. Nothing except the coydog made sense to her.
“What can I do to help?” she asked. Her eyes never left the coydog’s soft, silver fur.
“You’re doing it,” Evan said calmly. “His pulse rate seems directly related to your touch. Just don’t stop.”
“I won’t.”
“Let me make a few phone calls. I need to find an excellent vet who won’t be shy about working with a domesticated hybrid.”
Maze’s whole body shuddered before his eyes slowly closed. “Whatever you do, just hurry,” Meg quietly pleaded of them both.