It didn’t have to stay that way.
But he gently disentangled his fingers from hers, as if to make the point that he was absolutely fine on his own and he’d prefer to keep it that way.
Well, she’d wait with him anyway.
Carol on the reception desk insisted on making them both a mug of tea. And then finally Linda reappeared. ‘Do you want the good news, or the good news?’ she asked with a smile.
‘She’s going to be all right?’ Ryan asked, sitting up straight.
Linda nodded. ‘I’ve fixed the sprain. She’s got a splint and she’ll need painkillers, and a strict regime of rest. Walks only on a short leash, and that includes going out to the loo. No running, no jumping, no rough-house playing. And when she’s not with you she’ll need a cone on.’
‘She’s going to be bored out of her mind,’ Ryan said.
‘Get some different puzzle boxes,’ Linda said. ‘And do lots of mental training with her—stay, nose-touch, and low-activity “find it” games, that sort of thing. And give her toys stuffed with food so she has to work for it—it’ll help to keep her occupied.’
‘Got it,’ Ryan said. ‘What’s the other good news?’
‘She’s come round from her op. She’s a little bit woozy and a little bit sorry for herself, but you can take her home.’
‘Thank you.’ Ryan actually hugged Linda, to Georgie’s surprise. ‘Thank you for making my dog better.’
‘Bring her back to see me in a week. Or before that if you think she’s got an infection and she’s running a temperature, or you’re worried about anything at all,’ Linda said.
Georgie waited for Ryan to go and collect the dog, and Ryan’s eyelashes were suspiciously damp when he carried Truffle back into the waiting room.
‘Let’s go home,’ she said softly.
Then she realised what she’d said. Home. Since when had she thought of Hayloft Cottage as home? But she realised it was true. Despite growing up in London and studying and working there ever since, she’d started to think of the wilds of Scotland as home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RYAN SAT IN the back of his car with Truffle, who seemed woozy and exhausted. There was a patch of shaven skin on her paw where she’d been anaesthetised, her leg had a dressing on it and Ryan had a plastic cone to attach to her collar when he wasn’t supervising her, to stop her being able to chew the dressing or nibble at her stitches.
Georgie didn’t push him to make conversation; she had a feeling that he was already regretting spilling his heart out to her. Now she knew why his dog was so important to him, it made her feel even worse.
Back at the cottage, she opened doors for him while he carried the dog inside. He set Truffle down on her bed, and the dog’s head flopped down between her paws. For a moment, before he masked it, Ryan’s face was full of anguish.
And there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, to make things better.
She fell back on practicalities. ‘I’ll cook dinner. I bought salmon yesterday.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.
‘Tough. You’re eating. You’re not going to be any good to Truffle if you keel over. You need food.’
She took his silence as consent and chopped vegetables ready to stir-fry them; she also pan-fried the salmon and put a packet of rice into the microwave.
Ryan looked reluctant to leave the dog when Georgie put their plates on the table.
‘She’ll be fine. Sit down and eat,’ she said.
He made a noncommittal noise but at least he joined her, though he pushed the food around his plate. He ate about half the salmon and rice, and let the rest cool on his plate before going to sit on the floor next to Truffle, hand-feeding the dog some flakes of fish and rice.
Georgie wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be all right, but she thought he’d probably push her away. So she busied herself doing the washing up and pottered round in the kitchen, while the silence stretched out further and further between them.
Eventually she put the kettle on, made them both a mug of tea, and collected his empty plate.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘And thanks.’
‘No problem. Is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to stay downstairs with her tonight in case she has a delayed reaction to the anaesthetic.’
Oh, no. Georgie hadn’t even thought of that, and the idea made her feel sick. Of course they weren’t out of the woods yet. The operation was just the first stage. ‘Then I’ll stay with you to keep you company.’
‘There’s no need,’ Ryan said. ‘You’ve got work tomorrow. I swapped my shift so I’ve got a day off.’
‘I’m still staying with you,’ she said. ‘Apart from the fact it’s my fault Truffle escaped into the hills, two bodies are better than one when it comes to looking after someone who’s sick. So I’m going to change into my pyjamas and bring my pillow and duvet down here. And I’ll sit with her while you do the same.’
Eventually, he nodded. ‘All right. Thanks.’
Once she was downstairs, he went up to change and collect his bedding, and meanwhile Georgie sat talking to Truffle, resting her hand lightly on the dog’s side for comfort. ‘You’re going to be all right, girl,’ she promised softly.
When Ryan came downstairs, he put his duvet and pillow on the other side of Truffle. It reminded Georgie of sleepovers as a child, when a whole bunch of them would sleep in a room and chatter until the small hours. Though Ryan didn’t talk. He just lay there, looking worried, and Georgie didn’t want to babble platitudes and make things worse for him.
If only she’d double-checked the door.
And, if Truffle developed complications after the operation and the worst happened, Georgie would never forgive herself for taking away the thing that
