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Of course, she didn’t. Despite it having been on my application to work here. And the way I drop hints every so often, hoping she might offer to write me a recommendation and I can avoid the ask altogether.
I take a breath, hold it, then let it out slowly.Nice and easy, Bay. Just ask her.
But she speaks before I can. “I’d be glad to write a recommendation letter if you need one,” she says.
“Really?” That was way too easy. It smells like a trap.
“Of course.” She gives me a sly smile as she puts her hand on the door. “It will be an even better recommendation if you can keep Eli Hopkins coming in.”
And … there it is.
She must see me blanch—becausereally?!?—and she forces a laugh. “Kidding,” she says. “Of course I’m kidding.”
I don’t get the impression she’s kidding. At all. Which now makes me feel all kinds of ick. Even though I should be focused on the important part: she said she’d write me a recommendation!
One step closer to vet school. Now I just need to get over the money hurdle. My stomach squeezes at the thought, and the letter in my bra reminds me of its presence.
Of course, then my mind zips straight to Eli and the mention of marriage and money.
“Thank you,” I say, the words sounding stiffer than they should.
“Of course,” she says breezily.
But I have to wonder if she would have agreed so easily without Eli.
As I’m putting Doris back in her kennel, my mind circles back to theprofessional hockey playerI’ve been hanging out with a few times a month without having any idea. Why is this hitting me the way it is? Or … is it the hockey player info combined with the whole marriage idea?
I think about how he normally puts me at ease and the way he coaxes me to talk.
So, he’s famous. A big deal. With me, he’s just Eli.
Ha! The man isn’tjustanything. Even without the fame, his presence is practically too large for a room to contain.
I wonder if he’ll come back in after this. Dr. Evil probably scared him off. Or maybe our conversation did. The idea of never seeing him again sends a wave of disappointment through me.
Way to ruin the highlight of my week, Dr. Evil.
But she’s not done yet.
She pops her head back in just as I’m about to start administering the various meds that go along with the evening feeding.
“Oh, Bailey—I almost forgot,” she says. “The reason I was looking for you was to ask for your help bathing one of the cats. He made quite a mess and rolled around in it.”
Her smile is as sweet as a honey-covered dagger. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to the scratch on my arm. It’s no secret that I’m universally hated by cats. It also could just as easily be a volunteer’s job to bathe a cat.
Dr. Evil’s already gone when I mutter, “There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than give a cat a bath right now.”
CHAPTER 4
Eli
“Dude, where's your head?”Van smacks the side of my helmet with his stick as he skates past me.
“Right here,” I grumble.
But it’s not. My head is nowhere near the Summit. It’s caught up in a worry vortex, cycloning around my uncertain future.
For days now, I’ve been trying to think of some kind of plan. Some way to skirt around immigration laws. To make it so I don’t have to leave these idiots and rip my mom away from the life she’s built here. Any alternative to moving back to Canada. Some kind of plan B or C or D or XYZ.
