“Lena?”
I turned so fast my knee slipped on the floor.
My brother Ben stood in the exam room doorway, rain still dark on his jacket shoulders, one hand braced against the frame like he’d run the whole way from his truck. I hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Not since our mother’s funeral. Not since he told me I was throwing my life away on animals I couldn’t save and I told him he had no idea what saving anything actually cost.
For a second, nobody moved.
Rain was still under my hand, his little chest jerking with effort, one front paw stretched out on the blue mat like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done either. Dr. Keller lowered the clipboard. Rosa took one step back from the sink and looked at Ben, then at me, like she’d just walked into the middle of a fight that started months ago.
“I called him,” Rosa said quietly.
I stared at her.
She lifted one shoulder. “You hadn’t slept. You were shaking worse than the dog.”
Ben came farther in, slower now. “She said you were here again.”
Again.
Like this place had become my address.
I wanted to snap at him. Instead I looked down at Rain, because it was easier than looking at the one person who knew exactly how tired I was. Rain’s nails were still hooked into the foam. His body was trembling so hard the muscles in his shoulders looked like wires pulled too tight.
Dr. Keller finally spoke. “He just made his first voluntary forward movement.”
