Chapter 12: The Parking Garage

"Go sleep somewhere," Dad said. "Not on a kennel floor."

"Dad."

"That's an order from a man with a heart condition."

I kissed his forehead, which I had not done since I was twelve.

His eyes were wet when I pulled back.

In the hallway my mother had gone.

The advocate nodded at me and walked away without a word.

I found the stairwell and went down four flights, because I could not stand in an elevator with anybody.

The parking garage was nearly empty.

It was after midnight, and the concrete held the cold.

At the far end under a flickering light stood a muddy gray truck I knew.

Abram sat on the open tailgate with a blanket over his knees and a pet carrier next to him.

Biscuit's face was pressed to the grate.

"Mrrp," said Biscuit.

I stopped walking.

"You're here," I said.

"Shelby texted me from the waiting room." He stood up. "I thought you might need a ride."

"You got my cat."

"Your cousin gave me your key code. I fed him and packed a bag. Scrubs, charger, the green mug."

"Abram."

"I moved Thursday's surgeries to Friday. The other tech is covering your appointments. The clinic runs fine without you for a day, Mal. I checked."

I stared at him.

He had given up a surgery day.

I knew exactly what that cost him.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"Four hours."

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't have called."

"I don't owe you for this," I said, and it came out as an accusation.

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