Sweetheart

60

A/N

You thought that was the end??  P L E A S E. Fasten your seatbelts, Lizzie and Aaron aren't done yet.

– Five years later –

Lizzie
March 2026

As I sit at the front desk of the veterinary clinic, I can't ignore Reed's smile while he walks towards me with our morning coffees. Today was his turn of buying it, which means tomorrow it's mine. That's become our tradition since I started working here with him as my tutor.

Reed Hammond used to be a student at Cornell University. While studying for my first-year finals, he was working on his thesis. He's been working for a few years, and when I was assigned to him as his helper, I was euphoric.

"Good morning, Doctor Wright," he greets me, handing me my warm cup.

I smile. "Still feels weird being called that," I admit.

He leans on the counter with his side. "Well, that's what you are. Get used to it, Liz," he tells me. "So, what's on our schedule today?"

"Hmm," I hum, checking the agenda. "Just a few regular check-ups. Rambo is coming in today," I reply, referring to the fifteen-year-old dog we've been curing for the past year.

Reed nods his head. "That boy's got a strong body. He's not going to let go any time soon."

"I sure hope not. He's so cute," I admit.

"Got a point there." Reed checks his watch. "Camilla needs her first round of pills of the day. You mind taking care of that while I get the rest ready?" he asks me, talking about a stray cat a woman brought to us last week. She's been paying for the cat's cures, and hopefully, she'll be able to adopt the kitten soon.

I nod, standing up. "Yep. On it."

I walk past him and smile up at him, heading into the room where we keep the animals that are being monitored. I prepare the pills Camilla needs and smash them into some food.

"Hey, Camilla," I say to her sweetly. "You hungry?" A pleased meow is the only answer she gives me, followed by a purr. "Of course, you are. There you go, baby," I leave the bowl in front of her and make sure she eats all of it. When she's done eating, I put her back into her cage and close the door. 

I head toward the sink to wash the bowl, but Reed's loud voice thunders through the door, shouting, "Need some help here! Now!"

Understanding this is an emergency, I drop everything and run into the first room we have. Reed is holding a large dog in his arms, both of them covered in blood. "Jesus. What do you need?" I demand, quickly using hand sanitizer. I don't have time to properly wash my hands yet, but I still need to keep them somewhat clean.

"Clean the table and cover it. He's losing a lot of blood." I do as he says, hearing the poor dog, a German Shepherd, wailing and whining in pain.

Reed sets the dog down on the work table, and the dog tries to move away when we get closer. "It's okay, it's okay." I check for a collar and find one, reading his name. "Don't worry, Jay. We've got you."

While I try to soothe him and put pressure on the wound I can't even see, Reed washes his hands and wears gloves. "He was shot. He's a police dog and jumped in front of his partner to protect him."