Chapter Text
“Good night, Perlah!” Emma says brightly as she comes around the corner of the hub. “Monica,” she adds a little more hesitantly. “Good night, Dr. Robby.”
“Night,” Robby says absently as Perlah reaches out for a quick squeeze around the shoulders. Emma feels all warm inside as she returns it. They’re so welcoming. So nice.
“You could stay and pitch in,” Monica suggests, and Emma detects a hint of snide superiority in her voice. It makes her stomach twist, that feeling like she might get in trouble for just leaving class after the test even though the professor said it was okay. High school conditioning really never goes away apparently.
“Dana told me to go home and get some rest before tomorrow’s shift,” Emma explains, fighting to keep her voice even. Her heart pounds anyway, like Robby and Perlah might suddenly agree with Monica.
“You had quite a day,” Perlah says firmly, and Emma can tell she’s just as done with Monica as anyone.
“Wasn’t so bad,” Emma says lightly before turning away. If Perlah says she’s fine to go home, then she is.
It’s obvious they’re busy, doing things she’s sure she’ll get better at soon. But the second she’s not facing Perlah’s warm expression, the ice pick of worry that Monica thinks she’s lazy settles in her chest again. She shoves it away quickly, reminding herself she’ll never have to see Monica again. She really needs to get home. But as she rounds the corner of the ambulance bay, she spots that obnoxious med student.
“Dr. Ogilvie?” she says, pausing and furrowing her eyebrows. He’s just sitting there, still in a surgical gown. Dark, rust-colored blood splashed all down his front. His eyes are fixed somewhere ahead of him, without seeing. What is his name? “Ja–James?” She steps closer, but he doesn’t look up even when she waves her hand in front of his face. Emma looks around. Nobody else is out here. Nobody seems to have spotted him. “Hey,” she squats down, “James, are you okay?”
Shit. She doesn’t have time to handle this. Sighing, she pushes to her feet and heads back inside, walking quickly to the Hub. Perlah is still there, with Robby and Whittaker now. “Oh, I thought you were going home,” she says.
“Uh, I was,” Emma says quickly, hooking her thumb over her shoulder. “Dr. Ogilvie is just sitting out in the ambulance bay covered in blood.”
“Sorry,” Dr. Whittaker cuts in, “what—what was he doing out there?”
“Kind of, uh,” Emma frowns, “staring off into space. I tried to talk to him but it was like he couldn’t hear me.”
“Monica,” Robby says, basically ignoring her, “can you stat page CardioThoracic?”
“I’ll go check on Ogilvie,” Dr. Whittaker offers, already walking away.
“Please,” Robby agrees, then he’s off too.
Emma looks at Perlah. “Sorry, I’d stay but I—”
“It’s okay,” Perlah says quickly. “Go have fun. I’m sure you have plans with your friends. Fireworks should be fun.”
Emma nods and gives her a small smile, hitching her backpack higher. Perlah must have forgotten Emma just moved here, so there aren’t any friends to have plans with, but there is someone waiting for her at home.
Her apartment is only a few blocks from the hospital, her grandmother offered to cover some of the rent to give her a better commute, which is why Emma dials her number as she’s walking through the darkening city. An old trick she used to use in college when she was coming home late from labs and didn’t have anyone to walk with.
“Hello, Em-and-em!” Nana says brightly. “How was your first day?”
“Hi, Nana,” she answers quietly, glancing around. “It was good. Super hectic. I’m just heading home now.”
“Oh boy, weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” Worry creeps into Nana’s voice. “Don’t let them overwork you now.”
“It was fine. I actually got to leave earlier than everyone else,” Emma explains. “We had a computer shutdown and had to go analog due to a potential cyber attack.”
“Oh no!” Nana gasps. “Well that sounds awful!”
Not as awful as the rest of it. Emma decides immediately not to tell her about Curtis Larson and the strangulation, because then Nana might tell her dad, and then she’d be back in Sault Ste. Marie before she can blink. Glancing both ways, she jogs across a side street with no cars coming, fumbling with her keys as she speed walks the last block home.
“It was fine, it came back,” Emma says, a little breathless as she walks up to scan her key fob and enter the lobby of her building. “I just got home.”
“I know,” Nana chuckles, “I was tracking you on that Find My Friends app you showed me.”
“Oh,” Emma giggles as she pushes the elevator button, “I forgot I showed you that.”
“And your boy is exactly where he’s supposed to be,” Nana adds. “Or, it says he is.”
“Yeah,” Emma hits the button again, “I’m trying to get to him before the fireworks.” The elevator door finally slides open and she darts inside, pressing the three button at least six times. Then she swaps to the close door button. It still moves in slow motion.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go,” Nana says, “but text me when you’re back inside.”
“I will, Nana,” she promises. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Em-and-em.”
Emma jogs down the hall, getting more and more anxious the closer she gets. Her keys slip through her fingers before she can get the right one in the lock. “Shoot,” she mumbles, bending down to grab them. She shakes her head, inhaling sharply to calm down. He’s fine. He’s fine. Finally, the lock clicks open and she pushes through the door. “Hi, Bubba,” she says brightly, sighing with relief to see him sitting by the door. “How was your day?”
Moose stands and bows in a stretch, ripples going through his short, black fur as he pushes his giant paws forward. Emma grabs his leash off the hook by the door and slips the chain over his wide head. His tail wags halfheartedly, not quite awake yet. He will be soon though.
“Okay, Bubba, let’s go,” she says, turning right back around to take him outside. She’d hoped she might have gotten home before the fireworks started with time to walk him, but now she just has time for a quick trip outside. Moose is a good boy, he always seems to understand when she needs him to do his business in a hurry. Still, she bounces on her toes while he pees, until it starts going on long enough that her stomach sinks. “Just holding it all day?” she asks him, used to talking to him like a person. He looks at her like he understands. “Or am I spending my first paycheck on antibiotics?”
Moose lowers his leg and trots back towards the entrance to the building. Guess he’s fine. Emma follows quickly, because he’ll pull her over if she doesn’t. Moose is a Swissy, a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, and he weighs nearly as much as she does. One-hundred-and-twenty pounds of dog bred specifically for pulling carts. She’d have no chance if he really decided to go. Luckily, he’s the smartest dog she’s ever met, and he took to all the training she put him through between her sophomore and junior year of college.
He sits down automatically while they wait for the elevator, pressed up against her side, but facing behind her. Swissies are the largest of the Swiss mountain breeds, which include the more popular Bernese Mountain Dogs, but Swissies have short double coats instead of long fur. As mountain dogs, they were bred for herding and guarding as well as pulling carts. Emma’s never felt unsafe as long as she has Moose around. His bark is scary enough to keep anyone who might cause any trouble away from her. Even now, waiting for the elevator, he’s watching out the glass front door, his ears up.
The elevator dings. “Come on, Moose,” Emma says, tugging on the leash. “Let’s get some dinner.”
Inside, she kicks off her work shoes by the door and hangs up the leash. Moose lumbers ahead, pausing next to his heavy metal bowls and looking back at her. Emma grunts as she bends down to pick them up. On the counter, she fills one with two scoops of kibble, the other with water. Then she adds a bit of water to the kibble to soften it up before placing them both down on the ground. Moose’s head drops into the bowl with kibble immediately, and Emma turns and fills a glass of water.
She stares into her fridge, filled with groceries her dad bought after moving her in before he left two days ago. There is not a single ounce of energy left in her body to cook dinner. She looks around, taking in the white tile, the oak wooden cabinets and the old electric stove and microwave, both white and a little beat up. Over the counter, the small, two-top table they hauled down from her college apartment, and the small, green, L-shaped couch crammed into the tiny living room. The pink blanket she was using last night is still crumpled in the center. It looks like her stuff, but not really. It’s dark and unfamiliar. And she’s all alone. It’s not home.
Fuck. Her eyes are stinging. Emma drops the empty cup and sinks down with her back against the counter, her socks sliding on the tile until she wraps her arms around her knees and holds them to her chest. The first tear barely makes it to her jawline before Moose’s wet tongue licks up her cheek. He lets out a rumbling sort of groan and steps into her lap, leaning all of his weight onto her. Emma smiles even as more tears well up, wrapping her arms around him as a boom cracks outside the window. Moose flinches, his ears perking up, but he doesn’t bolt or leave her.
“Good boy, Moose,” she murmurs, stroking his soft fur as she buries her face in his thick neck. “Good boy, you’re okay.” She doesn’t know if she’s reassuring him or herself. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
They sit there like that for an hour. Emma still in her scrubs on the cool kitchen floor. Moose with his head heavy in her lap, his eyes looking up at her and ears shifting for her attention whenever there’s a particularly loud firework. Her hand never stops stroking over his head and neck and ears, murmuring softly, telling him all about her first day at work. Even when she shuffles over on her butt to the fridge and forces herself to pull out a few slices of deli turkey, some cheese, and an apple because she doesn’t want to get up and make a sandwich.
It’s nearly eleven pm before they taper off and Emma feels like she can get Moose into the bedroom without him freaking out. She hates fireworks now because he does. Even after all the socialization she did with him as a puppy, taking him to her uncle’s outdoor shooting range so he could hear the guns, introducing him to horses and other large animals, any person she could find who would pet him, he still doesn’t like fireworks or smoke. Which is why she’s grateful to be down in Pittsburgh and away from the wildfires up in Canada and northern Michigan.
He flops on the bathroom rug, taking up the entirety of the tiny room while Emma brushes her teeth, washes her face, and takes out her braids. Tomorrow, she probably won’t take the time to do them, only wanted to make a good first impression. She doesn’t have the energy every day. Maybe one braid. Maybe not two. That seems more grown up and less student-like.
“Come on, Bubba,” she says, yawning as she reaches for her bonnet with one hand and pats the bed with the other. “Jump up.”
Moose takes a running leap and lands on her other side with a huff, the mattress dipping under his weight. He circles around once before settling with his back pressed up against Emma’s, his head by her feet. She finishes tying her bonnet, pats his side a couple times, then reaches to turn the light off.
“Good night, Moose,” she mutters, pressing back against his warm, comforting bulk.
He huffs in response.
***
“Okay, and here she is taking her first steps,” Donnie says. Emma peers over Princess’s shoulder to see where he’s holding out his phone for them to see. The tiny baby’s hand slips off the coffee table she’s holding onto and catches herself on her foot before she can fall on her face. Emma smiles at that, something tugging up the corners of her mouth.
“Wow,” Dana muses, looking over her glasses as the toddler takes another step and then Donnie’s wife catches her before she can fall. “She’ll be running around in no time, you’ll never be able to catch her.”
“How old is she now?” Princess asks, and Emma glances up, because she had the same question.
“Eight months,” Donnie says proudly, nodding.
“That’s early!” Emma exclaims. He looks at her and she quickly adds, “Which is very cool. She might even talk soon.”
“My wife and I have a bet going on about whether she’ll say ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ first,” Donnie explains.
“My son’s first word was ‘cool,’” Dana says fondly. “He was sitting up in his crib playing with a hanging toy and he looked over at us and said, ‘cool.’”
“That’s so cool,” Emma says at the same time as Princess, exchanging a glance. As far as she knows, Princess doesn’t have children and isn’t married, which makes her feel a little better about not having either. Even though she knows she’s too young. It still feels like everyone has someone and all she has is Moose.
“Who’s that?” Princess points at Emma’s phone, which she didn’t realize was upright enough in her hand that her background is showing.
“Oh,” Emma glances down and taps the screen to make it brighter, “that’s Moose.”
“Your parents’ dog?” Donnie asks, tilting his head.
Emma pulls her phone back defensively. “No, he’s my dog,” she corrects, “I got him two years ago as a puppy.”
“Oh, really?” Donnie frowns. “In college?”
Everyone’s always a little shocked by that—that she raised a puppy in college. But Emma’s always been disciplined. Ran track and took all advanced placement classes in high school. In college, nursing major and raising a dog, all while still keeping up with her morning runs. Only now she has a friend who pulls her up the hills, his leash attached to the belt around her waist.
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I lived alone. A friend of a friend’s mom decided to rehome her puppy and was gonna take him to a kill shelter, so I took him before she could.”
“And he came here with you?” Dana asks, inclining her head.
“Yeah,” Emma says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She knows what people think. That Moose is too big of a dog for her to handle. Or that she shouldn’t keep him in a one bedroom. But he’s a good boy. And he runs with her every morning before her shifts, then sleeps all day on the cool kitchen tile. She’s a good dog owner. He’s…her baby. Her best friend.
“What does he do all day while you’re at work?” Princess asks.
“Sleep probably,” Emma shrugs, “I run with him before my shifts most mornings, maybe an hour. So usually we can get seven miles…” she trails off, realizing everyone has shifted their gazes over her shoulder. The hair on her arms prickles as she feels the heat of a large body behind her. Someone towering over her. Turning, she flinches when she realizes how close he is, noting the dark navy scrubs before she catches a glimpse of his face—surgery.
“Need some help, Dr. Park?” Dana says calmly, though she stands up a little straighter. Emma shifts to the side, taking herself out of the way as Donnie does a full one-eighty and walks away without a word and Princess inches back to another computer, rolling her chair one footstep at a time.
“You called for an ortho consult,” Dr. Park says flatly, his fingers tapping on the counter—Jesus Christ his hands are huge. Emma’s eyes widen as she takes him in, hoping he doesn’t notice her.
“Right, the open dislocation from two hours ago,” Dana nods. “Garcia took them up to the OR.”
Dr. Park’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “And calling to tell us would have taken too much time out of your busy schedule discussing babies and dogs?”
Emma whimpers, shrinking back. He seems really angry and she doesn’t know him. But she knows surgeons. They don’t like to have their time wasted. Plus, it was her dog they were discussing.
“I sent a message up an hour and forty-five ago,” Dana says breezily. “Maybe you should slow down and check those once in a while.”
He grunts with annoyance and grabs his pager from his pocket. Emma’s eyes widen again at how small it looks in his hand. Then he pivots and stalks off without another word, not one second wasted. Emma watches over her shoulder until his broad shoulders disappear around a corner and lets out the breath she was holding.
“Who was that?” she asks shakily, sliding into the spot he was just occupying. The counter is still warm under her folded hands from where his arm rested against it. She shivers.
“Dr. Park,” Dana says, her voice sharp on the consonants, “orthopedic surgeon.”
“They call him Park the Shark,” Princess pipes up, turning back around in her chair. “Because of…” she gestures vaguely. No need to finish the sentence. From his slicked-back hair and impatient, intense demeanor, Emma can see where the nickname came from. She takes a shaky breath.
“But don’t call him that to his face,” Dana warns.
“Wasn’t gonna,” Emma answers under her breath, checking in the direction he disappeared like he might come back. He doesn’t.
“Ortho notoriously takes a long time to answer calls, so trauma usually gets here before him,” Dana says, typing at the same time.
“They think they’re better than the rest of us because ortho is the most profitable department,” Princess explains. “Especially compared to us because we have to take everyone whether they can pay or not.”
“I see.” Emma nods. She definitely caught that vibe. Ortho was never the department she was interested in. Too many men. Too many muscles. It practically smells like testosterone in any ortho department.
“Fortunately, you won’t have to work with him much,” Princess goes on. “I’m surprised he came down at all for an open dislocation. Usually only comes in when he smells the blood of an amputated limb.” She giggles to herself. “See what I did there?”
“Yes, yes, very funny,” Dana waves over her shoulder. “Emma, North 4 needs labs. Princess, I know you have stuff to do.”
Emma stands up quickly, nodding. Playtime’s over. She falls into step with Princess for a moment as they walk along the Hub, exchanging a glance. Princess lowers her voice to a whisper, “I’m mostly glad Park doesn’t come down because, between you and me, I don’t think I could get any work done with him around.”
“Me either,” Emma agrees, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing towards the hallway he disappeared down. “He’s so—”
“Hot,” Princess finishes, her eyes gleaming. “Right?”
Emma had been about to say something along the lines of ‘terrifying,’ but nods instead. “Oh, yeah,” because she noticed that too. “Definitely a distraction.”
“Totally.” Princess waves as she peels off. “Okay, let me know if you need any help!”
“Will do,” Emma calls after her, hurrying to North 4 and putting Dr. Park out of her mind. He still lingers there, but more because the feeling of him at her back felt like the comfortable solidness of Moose’s body at night. And that’s a weird thing to think about someone she doesn’t even know, right?
***
Emma’s first Saturday off is glorious. The sun is out, but the heat wave has broken, so she can sleep in a little with Moose before going on their run at nine am. He bounces around, tossing his head with excitement as she laces up her shoes and slathers sunscreen on her arms and face. By the time she’s slipping his harness over his head and buckling the walking belt around her waist, he’s practically vibrating.
“I know, Bubba,” she says soothingly as she grabs her sunglasses and keys, “I’m ready to go too.”
But she still forces him to walk for five minutes to warm up their legs before starting a jog. It still isn’t really fast enough for Moose, but Emma prefers to ease her legs into it before kicking it up a few gears. She’s been running since middle school, so nearly ten years of experience. No music, which everyone says is nuts, but all she needs is Moose’s panting, his paws and her sneakers on the pavement, and the sound of the birds and the breeze in her ears.
Nothing else makes Emma feel as powerful as running with Moose does. Her chin comes up, back straight, striking with the ball of her foot and whipping it back behind her. It never feels like she’s working very hard and at the same time…she’s flying.
Moose isn’t quite as light on his feet, lumbering along beside her, tongue flopping out of the side of his mouth. But he never slows her down. And with a massive dog beside her, everyone gets out of her way. At least, she assumes it’s Moose getting them darting into the grass to clear the sidewalk for her. Because it used to be other people shoving her aside before she got Moose.
“Come on, Bubba,” she tells him, tugging on his leash to urge him in front of her as they approach a hill, “pull.”
Moose surges forward against his harness, tugging the leash tight. It takes the weight off of her quads and calves as she shortens her strides to climb the hill, his powerful shoulders pulling her along. Several people have suggested she just get a pair of roller skates or a bike and let him pull her instead, but she’d miss running. Miss the burn in her lungs and the strength in her legs.
“Good boy,” she tells him, breathless as they fall back into their regular stride at the top of the hill. “Good job, buddy.”
And she’d miss the teamwork with Moose.
On her way back, she passes by a pet store with a self-dog wash. Oh, that’s handy. It’s right by her apartment. She checks her phone. It’s basically the end of her run. She can just wash Moose and then walk home. He’s stinky after a week of running anyway, and she’d rather do this before she showers because his wet tail can be dangerous.
The bell dings as she opens the door, chest still heaving and hands on her hips. It’s a cute little store, with a good selection of toys and food and treats. In the back, they seem to offer full-service grooming and nail trims, but Emma does those herself. And the self-wash is cheaper.
“Can I help you?” asks the man behind the counter.
“Uh, I’m here to use the self-wash?” Emma says, letting out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I stopped in on my run. I just moved to town and realized you guys are right by my apartment.” She gestures to her short black shorts and white sports bra, no idea if there’s a policy against not wearing a shirt.
“Right this way,” the man says, clearly unbothered, “what’s your dog’s name?”
“Moose,” Emma says, tugging on his leash as he tries to lay down on the cool concrete floor. He drags himself back to his feet like it’s a huge effort, ambling after her with heavy paws.
“Cute,” the man says, holding the glass door to the grooming salon and self-wash area open for her to pass. “You can use that one there,” he points, then walks over to open the door to the large, stainless steel bathtub.
“Jump up,” Emma says automatically. Moose takes a running leap and jumps in before he can even pull out the ramp. The man blinks in surprise. “Sorry,” she tells him, “he doesn’t know how to use ramps.”
“That’s fine,” he replies. “Do you need specialty shampoo or—”
“Just regular is fine,” she says. “I’ve used one of these before.”
“Okay great! Let me get you some towels and brushes and I’ll leave you to it.”
“You ready, Bubba?” Emma asks, and Moose thumps his heavy tail against the metal in response as she turns on the hose. “Okay, good, let’s get you all nice and cleaned up. You’re so greasy.”
Despite his short fur, Moose takes forever to soak with water because all of it rolls off, so she keeps having to scrunch it into his coat. Not to mention, he’s so big, it’s sometimes easier to lean over him to try and wet his other side, pressing her chest into his back as she tries to reach around him. By the time she’s rinsing the shampoo, she’s covered in soap and bits of black fur.
“Pffft!” She blows out through her lips, trying to spit some fur out without raising her soap-covered fingers to her mouth, too distracted to notice the door opening behind her. “Moose, can you be more helpful?” she asks him, pushing on his head until he turns around reluctantly, but before she can rinse his back end, he sits down with a big sigh. “Moose!”
There’s a male-sounding snicker from behind her and heat crawls up the back of her neck. She turns to rinse Moose’s chest and neck again, trying to surreptitiously sneak a peek at whoever just walked in, only to do an immediate double take, fully gaping.
It’s Dr. Park.
“Oh shit,” she says, loud enough that she gets his attention. A flash of recognition appears on his face, his eyebrows pinching as he tries to figure out where he recognizes her from. “Um,” she raises one hand in an awkward wave, “hi Dr. Park. I…um,” she swallows, “I work in the ED?”
The crease between his eyebrows smooths out and he nods once, shoving a hand in his pocket and extracting a key ring, which he spins around his finger. He doesn’t say anything else, so Emma turns back to Moose, quickly finishing off her rinsing and shutting off the water. She pushes up on her toes to reach for a towel from the basket over Moose’s back.
“Hang on, Bubba, don’t—” Emma cuts herself off with a shriek as a shake starts at Moose’s head and ripples down his body, water sloughing off and flying through the air, soaking her entire front.
“Fuck,” comes a low voice off to her right.
“I’m so sorry,” she says before she even turns, “Dr. Park, I—”
He’s laughing. Shoulders shaking, water dripping down his nose, t-shirt clinging to his—very muscular—chest. “It’s fine,” he chuckles, a grin that almost seems inhuman stretching his mouth wide and crinkling his eyes. “I bet that felt good, huh, Bubba?” he says, reaching out for Moose to sniff his hand.
“Moose,” she corrects quietly, scratching Moose’s chest and trying not to look at Dr. Park as he moves to stand beside her, warm against her shoulder. “I just call him Bubba.” A flash of possession comes through her. That’s her nickname for Moose, because he’s her baby.
“Moose,” Dr. Park corrects immediately. “Fitting.”
“Do you have a dog?” Emma winces immediately. Of course he has a dog. Why else would he be here?”
“Yes, I’m just picking her up from her grooming appointment,” he explains, turning his hand palm up. Moose’s lolling tongue rasps over it a few times in rhythmic strokes, the sound extra loud to Emma’s ears. He looks away from her, but she still catches a flush creeping up his neck before he steps away, rubbing at the hot skin there.
She wonders what kind of dog Dr. Park has as she towel dries Moose, squeezing water out of his ears and tail. Probably something big and intimidating like him. A Doberman? No, short fur. A Doberman probably wouldn’t need grooming. Neither would a Rottie or a Pittie. Maybe a German Shepherd, but even those can get away with just baths at home. A Husky maybe? Or something more exotic, like an Akita? Yeah, she glances up at him, he could have an Akita for sure.
“Here she is!” comes a bright voice from around the corner.
Emma can’t help it, she looks immediately and her heart melts into a puddle of goo at the small ball of fluff cradled in the groomer’s arms. Big satellite dish ears with tufts of white fur sticking up, round head, big, dark eyes that stare directly into your soul.
Dr. Park has a chihuahua.
Laughter bubbles up her throat before she can stop it and she clenches her jaw when he looks up at her as he accepts the tiny dog—even tinier cradled in his massive arms against his broad chest. “Sorry,” she murmurs, “not what I expected. Come on, Moose.” She slips his leash over his head and opens the door to let him jump down, and this time Dr. Park steps back out of range before he shakes again.
“Wouldn’t have expected you to have a Swissy either,” he replies coolly, fastening a leash to his dog’s collar. “He must weigh as much as you do.”
Emma shrugs. “Almost. Moose, heel.” The big dog falls in beside her, pressing his damp body up against her thigh. She looks up at Dr. Park as he sets the chihuahua down. “What’s her name?”
“Clementine, like the song, not the fruit,” he replies. It sounds like he says it that way every time.
Emma drops into a squat and puts her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Clementine. I’m Emma. This is Moose.”
Her tiny black nose twitches suspiciously, going back and forth between Emma’s outstretched hand and the air around Moose. “She’s not that friendly with anyone except…” Dr. Park trails off as Clementine circles around, then sits down with her tail tucked around her paws in front of Emma’s foot, “...me.”
She looks up at him triumphantly, smiling at the awestruck expression on his face. “Animals like me.”
“I can see that,” he agrees, his voice suddenly soft, nodding as Emma strokes Clementine’s head with two fingers. The little dog’s eyes are closed, her nose raised blissfully. Emma’s throat tightens, her eyes a little misty. Something feels…almost warm inside her, from how the little dog accepted her immediately. Accepted Moose. But it’s true. Most animals like her.
She sighs and pushes to her feet. “Well she’s very cute.”
“Thank you,” he agrees, still staring with an intensity that prickles her skin. Then he tears his eyes away, shaking his head. “Come on, Miss Clementine. Time to walk home and let Miss Emma dry off Mr. Moose.”
Emma presses her fingers over her lips to hide her grin, cheeks aching from it. God, she wishes she had someone to tell about this. But the only person she’d tell is Moose, and he’s witnessing it. This grumpy surgeon’s gruff persona melts away in the presence of his tiny dog who he clearly adores.
“Bye,” she says softly. But it isn’t loud enough for him to hear, and he disappears through the glass door, Clementine trotting daintily at his heels.
***
Emma hears Dr. Park before she sees him. Rather, she hears everyone saying, ‘oop!’ and ‘excuse me!’ as he muscles his way through the ED towards the nurses’ station where she’s typing up notes. Her spine straightens automatically, like his own personal gravitational field is tugging her upright.
“How well-trained is your dog?” he asks by way of greeting.
Emma closes out the chart she was working on and looks up. “Uh, pretty well-trained, when he isn’t shaking water all over me,” she says, wondering where he’s going with this.
“Does he get on the furniture?”
“Only if I tell him to,” she replies coolly, even though her heart is pounding. She feels defensive of Moose—what is he on trial for? “He sleeps in bed with me, but will sleep on the floor if I tell him not to.”
“Good with other dogs?” Dr. Park’s knuckles rap on the counter, the tapping vibrating through Emma’s elbow resting on it. She lifts it away and crosses her arms.
“Yes,” she says. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” he replies, then turns and stalks off without another word. Emma’s mouth falls open a little, watching him shove into trauma two and everyone in the room to straighten up the same way she did.
An incredulous laugh escapes. How can this possibly be the same guy who was laughing at her dog for splashing her with water and carefully handling his twelve-pound chihuahua named Clementine? She doesn’t have time to figure out what his deal is. Dana gave her four patients to check on today. She’s practically on her own now, barely needing to ask questions unless something really crazy comes up.
But as she’s making a run to the lab, she accidentally falls in beside Dr. Park as he’s coming out of the trauma room, pausing when he stops for hand sanitizer. “Why were you asking about Moose?” she demands.
“Oh,” he glances at her, no change in his expression, “because I was thinking of asking you to dogsit for me while I’m away for a few days.”
Emma stops cold, furrowing her brows. “You were?” She pulls back in surprise, crossing her arms. “Are you…not anymore?”
“No,” he scoffs, looking at her like she’s the ridiculous one, “I just hadn’t asked you yet.”
“Oh.” Well, how was she supposed to know that?
“I’m going to be gone from next Tuesday through the eighth of August,” he explains. “I don’t like leaving Clementine in kennels because she doesn’t like to be away from home.”
“O–oh so you want me to…” Emma takes a step back, pausing to swallow her confusion and get over the whiplash of this conversation.
“Stay at my house,” he says flatly. “That’s why I was asking about Moose. He can come too. I have a big backyard he’ll like.”
“Um, I don’t—” she shakes her head, “I think maybe he should, like—like we should make sure they get along.” That seems like a better excuse to put this off than, ‘what the fuck you freak you don’t even know me!’
“Sure.” Dr. Park shrugs. “Give me your phone number and I’ll text you my address. Stop by after your shift.”
“But I—” She cuts herself off as he presses his phone into her hands, fumbling with the slightly larger screen she isn’t used to.
“And also what kind of Indian food you like,” he adds. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way home. You get off at seven right?”
“Yeah, but I have to go home and get Moose and it’ll be late,” she says quickly before she loses her nerve to make an excuse.
“That’s fine.” He waves her off. “If Clementine decides she hates him, I’d rather know tonight so I have time to find someone else.”
“Oh–okay,” Emma stammers, handing his phone back. “Sounds like a plan.”
“See you tonight,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away, leaving her dumbfounded as to what just happened.
Her phone vibrates with a text from him before she even makes it to the lab.
Unknown Number: This is Brendon Park. Let me know what you want to eat. Here’s the address.
Emma stares at the screen, eyes going in and out of focus, trying to decipher all the new pieces of information hitting her at once. One, his first name is Brendon. Two, he thinks he might trust her to watch his dog for ten days. Three, he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Four, he’s buying her dinner tonight.
And that's a lot to process.
“Did I see you talking to Park the Shark earlier?” Princess asks, sidling up beside Emma with raised eyebrows.
A nervous laugh comes out. “Oh, um, yeah?”
Princess pulls her chin back, her eyebrows dropping into a more serious expression. “Was he nice?”
“Yeah?” Emma tilts her head to the side. “He was weird, but he was nice.”
“Oh.” Princess looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that information—like this conversation isn’t going how she expected it to. “What were you talking about?”
Emma shrugs. “Dogs.”
That makes Princess laugh for some reason. “Huh. That’s odd though.”
“What is?” Her stomach twists as she puts her phone away.
“Well I just never heard of Park making small talk before.” Princess frowns. “He usually keeps to himself. Sticks to work.”
Emma’s shoulders creep up towards her ears. “I wasn’t, like, bothering him,” she says slowly, a little defensive. He came up to her after all. “It wasn’t a long conversation.”
“Oh I didn’t think you were,” Princess reassures her. “It’s just weird. But whatever, surgeons are weird.” She pats Emma’s shoulder. “You’re doing great. Don’t worry!”
Emma gives her a watery smile as they part ways, a strange feeling in her chest as she passes by the hallway towards the elevators, glancing down like Dr. Park might reappear. Of course he doesn’t. She’ll just have to get more answers tonight.
***
“Where the heck is he sending us, Moose?” Emma murmurs as they turn down a small street in the Mount Washington neighborhood. She had to cross Veterans Bridge and Liberty Bridge to get to it, which was annoying, because it took her straight through Downtown. Stressful enough without a giant dog panting in her ear. She specifically chose to live within walking distance of work so she wouldn’t have to drive much. But if she’s staying at Dr. Park’s, she’s going to have to drive. Which means paying for parking since she doesn’t have a pass. More logistics.
The street is precariously narrow. Emma grips the steering wheel tighter as she hugs the right side, trying not to look at the way it slopes dangerously downward past the bushes lining the road. On the other side, there are perfectly nice, but large, older brick houses. She pauses at a fork, glancing down the dark dead end street her GPS is indicating she should take, then at Moose in the mirror. She thinks he would protect her if it turns out Dr. Park is a serial killer, but she doesn’t want to put him in danger either. Maybe the whole thing with Clementine was just an elaborate ruse to lure her out to his kill room. Emma’s heart kicks up a notch, sweat beading up on her neck.
“Should we keep going?” she asks Moose. He pants in her ear, unbothered. Sighing, she turns the wheel and tentatively lets off the brake. Moose meter never fails. If Moose isn’t worried, Emma doesn’t need to be.
But still, the dead end goes on longer than she thinks it should, and only just when she’s about to give up and turn around does a low white house appear off to the right, built into the hillside. She turns and pulls into the driveway in front of the three car garage and shifts into park, pulling out her phone.
Emma: I think I’m here.
Dr. Park: You are. I see your lights.
Emma sighs with relief and turns off her car, twisting to grab her little belt bag with her wallet and treats for Clementine from the passenger seat. Behind her, she’s vaguely aware of the air shifting, the porch light flickering on. When she opens the door, there’s a little excited yip, and Clementine darts across the driveway in an energetic whizz of fur to lap at Emma’s ankle. She’d changed into shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals after work, and Clementine’s little tongue rasps against the day old stubble on her shin.
“Hi sweetie,” Emma says brightly, then looks around, catching sight of Dr. Park standing at the edge of the driveway with his arms crossed. He’s changed out of his scrubs into jeans and a t-shirt. “Can I pick her up?” Her eyes fix on his worn sneakers instead of his face for some reason.
“Yeah, if she wants you to,” he offers, shrugging.
Emma likes that he leaves it up to Clementine, and extends her hand down. Clementine relaxes as she reaches under her belly, so Emma brings her up to hold her in her armpit like a football while she lets Moose out of the back. “Yes, hello, hello,” Emma says as Clementine makes quiet noises and licks her face. “It’s good to see you again. Hi, hello.” Doesn’t like people her ass. Dr. Park probably tells all women that so they’ll feel special when Clementine loves on them anyway. She’s the sweetest dog on the planet.
Well, second sweetest. Moose stretches his big paws out on the driveway once he hits the ground, before immediately wandering away to smell around the bushes beside the driveway, his leash sliding through Emma’s palm until she catches the handle. She tugs him to attention and calls out for him to heel, so he falls in beside her as she walks up the driveway and goes to hand Clementine back to her dad. The little dog tilts her head back towards Emma, looking up at her in betrayal as Dr. Park’s hand brushes against Emma’s ribs to scoop Clementine away.
He sets her down immediately as Emma locks her car and stuffs the keys in her bag. “I’ll give you a garage door opener,” he explains, “and you can park in the far right spot. That’s the car I’m going to take.”
“Oh, okay,” Emma nods, like he’s already decided that she’ll be doing this for him and how. She decides to ask, “Is there a bus route from here to the hospital? I don’t have a parking pass.”
“I’ll leave mine for you,” he says automatically, waving a hand as she follows him through the front door. She leaves her sandals neatly by the door and Clementine darts over to sniff them excitedly. “I’ll leave a credit card for anything you need.” Emma assumes that means related to Clementine until he says, “You know, groceries, take out, whatever you need while you’re here.”
“Oh that’s too generous,” she says automatically, her stomach twisting at the thought. “I couldn’t—”
“I insist,” he says firmly, leveling her with an intense look. “You’re taking care of Clementine. The least I can do is take care of you.”
Emma looks down, her neck and face growing warm. “Sure, um, okay.”
Usually when she needed someone to watch Moose, her friends would take turns doing it, or any of the plethora of people in her college apartment building who loved him. The girls on the swim team who would text her begging to borrow Moose for an afternoon, or the Irish rugby players on exchange for the semester who missed their own dogs back home, or even the people at the leasing office would check in on him if she needed to leave him overnight. Moose has never had trouble making friends. But she never paid any of those people. They all just did each other favors because they were broke college kids. Emma’s still basically a broke college kid. And this feels way above her pay grade.
“So this is the upper level,” Dr. Park explains, “which, you can see, is just the guest bedrooms and the roof deck.” He points down the hall. “But I turned the room at the end into a home gym and converted the bathroom into a sauna.”
Now that she’s actually looking and processing, yes, she can see. It’s ultramodern, all white marble and light-colored wood floors. Black, modern hardware on the light fixtures. How does he keep it so clean? And did he say a sauna?
“So I’d sleep up here,” Emma concludes, turning to peer into one of the bedrooms. There’s a large king bed with a fluffy white duvet, a blue blanket, and a single blue accent pillow. Very serene. Very sterile.
Dr. Park looks at her like she’s nuts, already halfway down the stairs. The house must be built into the hillside, so the main living area is below the garage. “I mean you could,” he scoffs, making that face like he can’t believe her again, “but Clementine sleeps in my room so you might as well just sleep in my bed.”
Emma follows, the knots in her stomach only pulling tighter at that strangely intimate idea. Sleep in the same bed as this man she barely knows. Who she’s spoken to only a few times. Not while he’s there of course, but so his dog doesn’t get confused. She tiptoes carefully after him, unable to stop the small gasp as she comes around on the landing to take in the downstairs.
The whole kitchen and living room are openly laid out, with a large marble island to her left as she lands at the bottom of the stairs, past it, sleek, modern appliances in stainless steel. To her right, wide open floor to ceiling windows that show off a massive deck with a couch and two chairs. In front of her, a dining room table, a fireplace—in the middle of the room?—and a living room decorated in creams and grays, with two plush couches and a large coffee table. In the corner by the oversized tv, there’s a large pouf that’s clearly where Clementine hangs out all day due to the chihuahua-sized divot in it. It seems like way too much space for one single guy and his twelve-pound dog.
It seems impossibly lonely.
“So,” Dr. Park gestures around, “kitchen and living room. You can see why I asked if Moose gets on furniture. Getting black fur out of all of this would be a nightmare.”
“Yeah,” Emma agrees faintly. Her fingers curl under Moose’s collar, even though she knows he won’t leave her side until she releases him from heel.
“My decorator actually specifically did the color scheme so Clementine’s fur wouldn’t show up so easily,” he explains, and the little white dog barks once. “Yes, Miss Clementine,” he addresses her formally, which makes Emma giggle a little, “you are a very spoiled, very expensive young lady.”
“You didn’t redecorate just because of your dog did you?” Emma asks, following him hesitantly around back behind the stairs to a door that must lead to the primary bedroom.
“Oh, no, of course not,” he says so dryly that she knows immediately he did. Being an attending must be nice. She sighs as he turns the doorknob and Clementine races between their ankles inside. Emma and Moose follow at a more respectable speed.
His bedroom is as large as the entire three car garage upstairs, because that’s the amount of space it takes up. The king-sized bed is dwarfed by the sheer size of the open floor space around it, taupe linen duvet on white sheets matching the oatmeal colored headboard. No footboard, but a gray bench at the end she imagines he sits on to tie his shoes. It’s slightly flatter on one end, just like the pillows on one side of the bed. Like he’s leaving the other side open for someone who hasn’t shown up yet.
Nearly twenty feet opposite the bed on the wall, another absurdly large flat screen television hanging over his oversized dresser. Past the bed, two armchairs tucked into the corner with a table between them, and around that side, more floor to ceiling windows revealing another alcove of the back deck with more soft chairs and a table. Who does he sit there with? Or is it just staged to appear as if more than one person lives here?
Clementine yips from the center of the bed, where she’s sitting up and staring at her dad, ears twitching expectantly. “It’s not bedtime yet,” Dr. Park informs her, hands shoved in his pockets. Emma presses her lips together in amusement.
“I used to teach Moose the material to study for tests,” she blurts out. When he turns to her, she explains, “Like, I read the best way to study sometimes is to teach it to someone else, but I didn’t, like, have anyone else?” Oh god, pathetic. “So I just used to teach it to Moose.” He furrows his brows and she realizes she sounds insane, that this doesn’t connect to the conversation at all. “I mean, like, because you talk to her like she’s a person,” she stammers, “I do that too.” God, she could have just said that.
“Oh,” Dr. Park nods, “cool. So he could probably work in the ED too?”
Emma looks down at Moose and ruffles his ears. “I only got him my junior year, so he only got half a degree.”
“Ah, right.” He nods again. “So, anyway, the windows face north, so you shouldn’t have too bad of a time with sunrise or sunset,” he explains, “but there’s black out curtains if you want. I—”
“Oh I like to wake up with the sun,” Emma interrupts.
“—prefer to wake up with the sun,” he finishes at the same time. The corner of his mouth twitches up with amusement.
“Moose and I try to run before work,” she explains, her cheeks heating up again from having spoken out of turn again, hoping to cover it up and move on. “If we can run for an hour, then he sleeps all day.”
“How far do you usually run?” he asks politely, glancing out the window before turning back to look at her in that intense way that makes her skin itch again.
“Like seven or so miles,” she says, “but Moose slows me down.” She reaches down and pats his shoulder again. “Only useful on the hills.”
“That’s still pretty fast with a dog,” he comments. “A big dog.”
“Well, I’ve been running since middle school,” she explains, shifting back and forth. Her skin prickles when he looks at her like that, like he’s trying to figure something out about her.
“You ran in college?”
“Just for fun,” she says, inhaling sharply and turning away to walk over to the bathroom, pausing when she realizes. “Wait, your bathtub is in your bedroom?”
It’s also the size of a jacuzzi, set up so two people can soak at once, facing each other, raised off the wood floor with cream colored tile surrounding it. In the corner, there’s a basket of towels and a bottle of what she suspects is bubble bath, but it does not look like it’s ever been opened. Emma turns to look incredulously at Dr. Park.
He shrugs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came with the house. I think it was built assuming two people would live here but,” he sighs, “it’s just me. Anyway, there’s a regular shower through there.”
Emma follows where he points, glancing briefly into his dark closet, rows of dress shirts and neatly hung jeans and trousers. Shelves of dress shoes and sneakers. Like he goes out often. Single guy. Maybe that soaking tub does get some use—just not from his wife.
Pushing the prickle of discomfort that puts in her ribs aside, she focuses on the bathroom, which does have a large, glass-enclosed shower, as well as two separate vanities. One which clearly gets used and has his electric toothbrush and razor on chargers next to his cologne, and one which remains empty except for a neatly hung towel and hand soap. There’s a shorter counter with a stool in front of a mirror next to the unused one.
“I assume they figured a woman living in the house would do her makeup or something,” he says, managing to keep his voice even. Impressively even when he adds, “Obviously you can put all your stuff at that sink while you’re here.”
Use the vanity built for the wife he doesn’t have? Emma suppresses a snort. Okay, sure. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“So you’ll do it?” Dr. Park asks. “You’ll stay here while I’m gone?”
“Oh,” Emma swallows, “I thought this was you interviewing me,” she admits.
“Oh.” He actually smiles a little at that. “I thought I was convincing you why you should do this favor for me. I mean, I’ll pay you, obviously,” he says firmly. “I hope I made that clear.”
“Um, yeah,” Emma bites the inside of her cheek, “that…would make sense.”
“Because Clementine seems to like you, and you’re good with dogs,” he goes on. “Moose is very well-trained. So I know you take dog ownership seriously.”
“I think I take it more seriously than some people take children,” she mutters.
“Exactly,” Dr. Park agrees. “And that’s why I trust you.”
For some reason, that must have been what she was waiting to hear. Why he asked her. Why he’s planning to entrust her with his dog. Not to mention, why he’s letting her stay in his house, sleep in his absurdly nice bed, and…
“You can use whatever you want in the house,” he offers, like he’s the one trying to sell her on this. “Pool, sauna, home gym. Whatever you want.”
Emma nods, swallowing the lump building in her throat. “Yeah, sure.” She sounds more confident than she feels. “It’ll…be like a little vacation for me too.”
That earns her the first genuine, real smile she’s seen from him. “Great. We can work out the details over dinner.”
She follows Dr. Park back into the kitchen, Moose padding along beside her. The big dog lets out a massive sigh as she slides into one of the barstools and he sinks down beside her, resting his chin on his paws.
“Do you have a usual rate you charge for dogsitting?” Dr. Park asks as he opens a cabinet and pulls down a couple plates. Then he reaches down in a drawer below the oven and pulls out several take out containers. There’s a beep as he presses a button. “By the way this is a warming drawer,” he explains, “for keeping food warm.”
“Oh cool.” And fancy. “No,” she says, answering his first question, “I don’t.”
“I was thinking two-hundred per day?” He lifts an eyebrow at her, checking her reaction to the offer.
Emma nearly chokes on her own saliva. “Hm! I’m sorry?” she says quickly. “You want to pay me two-thousand dollars to watch your objectively very easy to take care of dog and live in your house for ten days?” Just to make the scope of the matter clear. That’s an absurd amount of money. More than the service requires.
“Well, I’m also covering all of your food while you’re here,” he continues, sliding a plate and two of the take out boxes in front of her, then opens a drawer for utensils, “and I figured your rent is probably a little over two-thousand, so a thousand covers a little less than half your month’s rent while you don’t live there, and the other thousand is for fun.” The two spoons clatter as he slides them across the table.
Oh he thought about it thought about it. Emma fiddles with the lid of one of the boxes, trying to figure out what to say. But he continues, sounding concerned, “Is that low? Am I lowballing you?”
“What?” Emma snaps her head up, eyes wide. “No, I—I think you’re highballing it if anything!”
Dr. Park narrows his eyes a little, but more in amusement than annoyance. “Well, if it makes you feel better, she’s actually very demanding and spoiled,” he says, “so it could be more work than you expect.”
Emma actually does snort this time and opens a box to spoon rice onto her plate. “I’m sure she is.” If he’s willing to drop two grand on someone watching her for ten days. “But that’s too much.” Her cheeks heat up at the thought of him giving her money at all, let alone two-thousand dollars. She refocuses on plating up her food, trying not to look at him. Two-thousand dollars would really help her out this month, especially because her first pay check was only for half a pay period. Not to mention having her food covered for ten days. And living here would drastically lower utilities. All the extra can go towards her student loans.
“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, “I consider it an expense of the trip.”
She looks up at him, swallowing. “Are you sure?” Nobody has ever done anything like that for her before. Now this guy who everyone says is deeply unfriendly is being incredibly generous with her. Why?
“Yes,” he says simply, leaning both hands on the counter and giving her a serious look that says he’s not taking no for an answer. Emma swallows and nods once, which relaxes him. “Okay, come on,” he urges, picking up his plate, “we can eat out on the deck. It’s nice.”
She follows him carefully with Moose plodding along beside her, eyes trained on the plate balanced precariously in her hands. Dr. Park manages to balance his food in one hand as he draws open the sliding glass door, stepping aside to urge her through. A shiver goes up her spine at the proximity and heat of his body when she passes him, doing her best to ignore that.
“Wow, it’s beautiful out here,” she says, setting her plate down on the full-sized outdoor dining table, looking out over the crystal blue pool glittering in the lights of the Pittsburgh skyline. “Quiet.”
Moose makes a huffing noise, looking out at the grass past the pool, whining in the back of his throat as he stamps a foot and looks up at Emma. She shakes her head at him, but Dr. Park says, “You can let him go. He can’t go far.”
“Oh, no, he’s fine,” she tells him. “Moose, down.” The big dog flops down on his belly with a sigh, resting his head on his paws.
“I’m sure he doesn’t get open space to run around often,” Dr. Park continues.
Emma shifts in her chair, glancing back at Moose before reaching down to unclip his leash. “Alright, Moose.”
He’s on his feet and trotting away to go sniff around the edge of the pool, his nose working overtime now that he’s free to go. Emma rests her chin on her hand, watching him for a while as the last remnants of sun fade away from the reflection in the buildings in the distance. His thick tail waves happily, lazily, as he wanders around the pool onto the grass, sniffing for a long moment before dropping his head and rolling over with a loud grunt. Quiet growls of happiness come out of his throat as he wiggles around, rubbing his shoulders and back into the grass.
“You trained him yourself?” Dr. Park asks.
“Mmhm.” Emma nods and finally takes a bite of the chicken korma going cold on her plate. “He’s a smart boy.”
“How old?”
“Two.”
“Oh,” he sounds surprised, “he seems older. But I see the energy now.”
“How old is Clementine?” she asks, accepting the napkin he passes over to her and dabbing at her mouth before spreading it in her lap.
“She’s seven.”
“Ah, a distinguished middle-aged lady,” Emma comments. “Chihuahuas can live a long time.”
“Hopefully,” he says, sighing. “My last one passed when she was only ten.”
“Oh I’m sorry!” Emma furrows her brows. She sits up a little straighter and watches more closely as Clementine trots over to where Moose is still rolling and sniffs one of his flailing paws. But there was no reason to worry, as soon as Moose realizes she’s there, he goes still, flopped over on one side with his ear turned inside out. He lifts his head to sniff Clementine back.
“It’s okay, it was years ago,” Dr. Park says quietly. “I got lucky, one of the nurses in my department was looking to rehome Clementine shortly after when she realized her grandson couldn’t handle being around a dog.”
“It’s good you were able to take her then,” Emma agrees, still carefully watching as Moose stands and follows slowly behind Clementine as she moves around the yard. “I notice you don’t pick her up very much. She’s very independent. Most Chihuahuas get more attached to their owners.”
“Don’t get it twisted,” he snorts, “she’s very attached, but I just think little dogs are often treated like stuffed animals rather than dogs, and that leads to anxiety.” Emma slowly turns to look at him, her eyes widening. “And that’s what leads to all the anxiety and yappiness,” he finishes. “What?”
“That’s what I think about little dogs,” Emma says, surprise in her voice. “I feel like nobody gives them any agency. Like…they’re still dogs, you still have to train them and exercise them!”
Dr. Park’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “And that’s why I trust you with my dog even though I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Nolan.” Emma ducks her head, pushing her hair to one side. “And you didn’t know that until now.”
“Call it a gut feeling,” he says, shrugging. “Anyone who can train a puppy and get a nursing degree at the same time has to be a damn good dog owner.”
She glances up at him through her lashes, heart fluttering from the way he’s looking at her. His eyes are open and compelling, almost…sparkling in the dusky light. She looks away again. “I try. Um…” she chews on her cheek for a second, “where are you going anyway? On your trip.” They need to change the subject before she catches feelings for the inappropriately aged coworker who just asked her to sleep in his bed and who will be paying her two-thousand dollars to hang out with his dog for ten days.
“Wyoming,” he says between bites, then elaborates, “Grand Teton. A group of guys from med school and I try to plan a trip every year, knock off another national park.”
“Oh, backpacking?” Emma lifts her head, glancing out at Moose, who is now on his back again with all four paws in the air, lazily batting at Clementine as she runs around him. She likes to hike with him when she can. He’s great at taking weight off her legs on the uphill, just like when they run.
“God no,” he scoffs. “We just rent a cabin, plan out long day hikes.” Sitting up, he stretches his arms above his head. “A couple years ago we decided we were too old to sleep on the ground anymore.”
Emma giggles and glances at the flex in his biceps. “You can’t be that old yet.”
Dr. Park drops his arms with a grunt. “Okay maybe not me, but my buddy who’s, like, a dermatologist? He’s definitely getting old.” Shrugging, he adds, “Plus we all want to stay within range of cell signal.”
“Wives and kids?” she guesses. “For everyone else, obviously.”
“Sure,” he scoffs a little again, leaning back in his chair. “But I have an important someone I need to stay in touch with too.”
Emma nods, looking down. “Oh yeah, of course.” Someone. She doesn’t even know why that disappoints her.
But Dr. Park leans down and catches her eye. “The woman watching my house and dog while I’m gone,” he says, like he shouldn’t have had to remind her of it.
That shouldn’t make her feel as warm inside as it does.
***
Brendon Park: My dog walker, Susanne, walked her at 1pm, so no need to rush after work.
Emma laughs a little to herself reading Dr. Park’s text as she speed walks to her apartment, where everything she needs for the next ten days is packed into her car and Moose will be waiting for her at the door. It’s like he knew she’d be rushing, but then again, he could be going off of what he’d be doing in her situation, which is prioritizing the dogs.
It’s weird how she’s already thinking of Moose and Clementine as a unit. The dogs. The dogs in her care for the next ten days. She hopes Moose doesn’t get too attached.
Brendon Park: What’s your work schedule for the week so I can tell her which days to come?
Brendon Park: She said she’s happy to walk Moose as well.
Emma: I don’t work tomorrow or Thursday. Then I work Friday through Sunday. Then I’m off again Monday and Tuesday. Work again Wednesday, Thursday. Off Friday.
Emma: No need for her to walk Moose. We run in the mornings.
He texts so formally. With proper grammar and punctuation, so Emma copies his style even as she’s typing one-handed while fumbling to get her keys out and scan into the building.
Brendon Park: She said she’ll still let him outside when she comes for Clementine.
Emma: He’ll appreciate that.
“Hi Bubba!” Emma says, her voice brightening at the sight of his face. “How was your day?”
He huffs as she clips on his leash and seems to understand the need to rush, because he surges ahead of her to go outside, finding the closest bush to do his business. Her phone vibrates again in her pocket.
Brendon Park: Drive safely.
A strange feeling settles like a lump in her chest, right at the base of her throat. But it isn’t nausea. She hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen for a minute, then hearts the message and closes it out. Immediate regret surges through her. Is it weird to heart messages from a coworker? The guy who’s paying her to watch his dog? Does that make him her boss? At least in the sense that he’s employing her for a service.
She doesn’t have an answer when her tires crunch on the driveway in front of his house thirty minutes later. The garage door opener he gave her when she left last week is clipped onto her sun visor and she reaches up to hold the button until the far right garage door opens. Then she slowly eases the car inside.
Her phone rings as she’s getting Moose out. “Shoot.” Emma fumbles with it and slides to answer, pinning the phone against her shoulder. “Hi, Nana.”
“Why does your location show you not at home?” Nana demands immediately.
“I’m, um, dogsitting for that guy from work,” she says quickly. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
There’s a long pause and Emma chews on her lip as she pulls her two bags and Moose’s things from the trunk of her car. Then Nana says, “I think you did mention that.” She sounds much more relaxed now, so Emma’s shoulders drop. “Sorry, Em-and-em, my mind isn’t what it used to be.”
Emma’s chest twinges. She doesn’t want to think about Nana getting old. Nana dying. Life…wouldn’t go on without Nana. “That’s okay,” she says brightly.
“Well what’s his house like? Is it nice?”
“You could say that,” Emma scoffs as she walks inside, shutting the garage behind her. Clementine yips and the sound of little claws on the stairs fills the house. “Hi! Hi, sweetie!” Emma drops down to greet the little dog, who’s bouncing on her paws enough that she practically jumps into Emma’s arms when she reaches out, licking all over her face and hand and where she can reach. “Nana, can I call you back? I have my hands full.”
She manages to make it downstairs without dropping anything or tripping over Moose, still carrying Clementine because she’s much more afraid of tripping over the smaller dog. Moose goes lumbering off to sniff around as soon as Emma unclips his leash, following with a smatter of pawsteps behind her when he realizes she’s heading for the bedroom.
Clementine jumps smartly out of Emma’s grasp onto the bed and curls up in a ball while she sets down her stuff. “Need to go outside?” Emma asks her, and her ears perk up. “Let’s go outside.”
It’s all so much quieter without Brendon, and seemingly bigger. She didn’t realize how much space he took up until he was gone. Now she feels immensely small walking around feeding the dogs—shoving Moose away from Clementine’s bowl with her feet as she sips on a glass of water.
Once they’re done, she pokes around the fridge and pantry, noting that he did in fact grocery shop for all the things she told him she likes—which he demanded she send him via text. He’s a very demanding employer, but mostly for her to allow him to do nice things he absolutely doesn’t have to do. On the counter, she finds his credit card and a note with the number for Clementine’s vet, the address of where he’s staying, and his sister’s contact information with a parenthetical that she shouldn’t need it. Neatly typed and printed.
Her phone rings. “Shoot,” Emma mutters, answering without looking. “Hey Nana, sorry I forgot to call you back.” She flips over the paper to find it blank on the other side.
There’s a low chuckle through the phone that straightens her spine automatically. “You should look at your phone screen before you answer it,” Dr. Park suggests.