Every Wrong Reason

“It is.” His palms spread out on his thighs and he pushed them down his jeans, reaching his knees with nervous energy. “It’s like a dream job, seriously.”


“Really? But what happened to the band?”

He canted his head thoughtfully. “I’m too old, I think.”

“You are not. Oh, my god. You’re thirty. That’s hardly ancient.”

“Thirty-one,” he corrected.

I swallowed, remembering his birthday too late. It had been last month. Valentine’s Day. I had never had a problem remembering in the past, but this year I had been too wrapped up in feeling alone and pathetic to think of anyone else.

Did it matter that I forgot his birthday? Was I supposed to remember? No, right?

We weren’t together anymore. His birthday happiness wasn’t one of my obligations anymore.

I glanced at the door that led back to the operating room and wondered what was taking them so long. Fix her, damn it.

Nick’s voice pulled me back to our conversation. “I just think… I honestly think I’m better at this. It’s like I found myself. I thought I knew who I was or what I wanted before, but it wasn’t until I stepped into the studio that I really figured it all out. I belong there. I’ve always belonged with music, but this is the how and why of it.”

“Nick, that’s amazing.” My words came out in a breathless whisper and I knew I was close to crying again. I blinked away hot tears and struggled to hold myself together. I hated that this bothered me, that he’d found this huge thing, discovered parts of him he hadn’t known, while he was away from me. I hated that I had nothing to do with it. “I’m so happy for you.”

His smile was small, nervous. His thumb and first finger tugged on his earlobe. “Kate, I-”

But I would never know what he wanted to say. Dr. Miller, the second, younger, female Dr. Miller, pushed through the swinging door and stepped into the waiting room. “She’s going to be okay,” she announced and I nearly crumpled to the floor after just standing to hear the news.

Nick caught me by the waist and anchored me in place. Dr. Miller smiled sympathetically at me and gestured for us to sit down again.

She walked over to us, her stubby heels clicking against the tiled floor. “She has two broken ribs and a broken toe. We had to give her stitches over her eye and on her side, but she’s going to make it.”

I mumbled something unintelligible so Nick took over and thanked her for us.

“We’ll need to keep her overnight for observation, but we might be able to send her home tomorrow. We’ll call you in the morning after we know more.”

Nick’s hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing it. “Can we see her?” he asked. “Just for a minute?”

“She’s still asleep from surgery,” Dr. Miller warned. “But you can see for yourself that she’s still alive. I know how scary losing a loved one is.”

I was sure she did. But the possibility of losing Annie felt like the absolute worst kind of pain. I couldn’t believe that anyone loved his or her pet as much as I did. Nobody else would feel it this acutely.

Nick grabbed my hand and pulled me after Dr. Miller. We followed her back to the post-op room where Annie was laid out on a metal table. Her fur had been cleaned everywhere and shaved where she needed stitches. Her middle was wrapped tightly. Her rounded chest moved up and down, stuttering a little in between her shallow breaths.

“It’s hard for her to breathe right now,” Dr. Miller explained. “But that will heal.”

Nick asked some logistical questions about home care while I walked to her side and gently trailed my fingertips over her plush ear. “Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. Tears sprang up in my eyes and fell before I could stop them. “I’m so sorry.” She made a whimpering noise and lifted her nose as if she could smell me. I spread my fingers out on her back and buried them in the thick softness of her fur.

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