On impulse, he got out his phone, snapped a picture of Gun, and sent it to Carrie.
Gun says hi.
Damn you selfish, needy bastard, he thought. Carrie was busy, she had her own problems, and he had no right to hope for anything from her.
And as the minutes passed without response, he reminded himself that hehad no right to feel disappointed, either. He’d pulled away from her, after all. She had a life before the speed bump that had thrown them together. She’d have one after, too. Still, texting was a lazy, cowardly way to explain that he was simply trying to spare her unnecessary turmoil.
He pushed all thoughts of Carrie away and focused on how to get his dog engaged with the world again.
He’d trained all his dogs to do the usual party tricks, shaking hands, giving high-fives, barking numbers, bowing, shaking no, nodding yes.
But now with Gun, most of those things required the use of some body part that was currently in pain. Ethan had brought all his favorite toys and puzzles into the hospital but the dog simply wasn’t interested.
What else could he try?
“Where’s Gunny?”
Ethan injected a note of fun-and-games into his voice and the dog’s tail politely thumped. Obediently, he lowered his big head onto the blanket and then lifted one paw to cover his muzzle, blinking at Ethan from behind it.
“There he is.” He gave Gun a quick ear-rub, glad no one was around to see them. Peekaboo was a cute game for a puppy; for a battered, bruised, shaved and sutured highly-trained Belgian shepherd, it was a travesty.
Games. Everyone played them. He thought of the school secretary, who hadn’t had the grace to talk to Carrie directly, who supposedly knew all the gossip.
All the gossip, he wondered suddenly? Maybe he ought to pay the woman a visit himself.
“You’ve had enough, haven’t you, buddy?”
The dog lifted his tail and flapped it against the grass. Ethan helped him to his feet and using a sling, helped him walk a few steps. Then he scooped him up again and carried him the short distance back to the hospital. The dog needed his rest.
And Ethan had a phone call to make.
*
Carrie wasn’t even sure if she could talk to Ethan, she was so mad. But anger was better than the tears, at least.
“He’s recovering well,” he said.
“Gee, thanks for letting me know.”
A pause. “I guess I deserved that.”
Carrie squeezed her eyes tightly, imagining Ethan’s dark face as it had been the night he’d dropped her off, his eyes intense and tortured, his skin bruised and bloodied.
“Sorry,” she said. “No. It’s just… I’ve been worried.”
She was done being overlooked, ignored, forgotten, underestimated, misjudged or judged and found wanting.
She took a deep breath. There was a chance she was blaming Ethan for circumstances that weren’t entirely his fault. Certainly wasn’t Gun’s fault.
“Sorry, really.” She swallowed. “Is he okay? Will he be able to walk? And what about you? You looked bad that night.”
“Doc hopes he’ll get back full function,” said Ethan, “but it’ll be a long recovery. Are you okay?”
“Of course.” She could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. “Ethan, how can I help?”
“I just wanted to tell you not to worry about me, Carrie. You don’t need any more stress. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
After that, all she’d had was a few texts, terse messages that gave her only the barest of medical updates and nothing of substance about how the dog, or he for that matter, actually were.
Carrie couldn’t blame him. She’d jumped down his throat, after all. And after all, he owed her nothing. They were nothing to each other. Barely acquaintances. She had no right to feel invested in Gun’s recovery.
So Carrie threw herself into whatever busywork she could find. She learned the ins and outs of the new security system Ethan had installed, forcing herself to read the entire manual, front to back. Twice.
She went over her fall schedule, which was dismally empty. She updated her bookkeeping, entering bills, too many, and payments, not enough.
She could see that Ethan was continuing to work on her website remotely, using the password information he’d given her. The last time she’d done an internet search, she couldn’t find any evidence of her hidden photos. Which hardly mattered, since everyone already knew about it now anyway.