It wasn’t enough time.

Kelly was at a doctor’s appointment—her first visit, and I didn’t want to ruin what should be a happy moment—so I rushed across town and grabbed Allie from school. We drove to Bow Wow Patrol. Sandy met us outside, breathless and covered in leaves.

“We found him!” she said. “But he’s—” Her eyes trailed over my shoulder to where Allie stood and the words cut off. “H-U-R-T.”

My stomach clenched. Hard.

“Bad?”

A nod.

“What’s bad, Mommy?” Allie asked.

I crouched in front of her and rested my hands on her shoulders. “Rocco got a little boo-boo, but he’ll be okay,” I said, hoping it would be true.

Standing, I turned to Sandy. “Where is he?”

“In the back.”

I nodded before handing my phone to Allie. “Why don’t you have a seat in the lobby and watch some videos?”

“Okay!” She snagged it and scampered for the automatic sliding door leading into the doggy daycare, Sandy and I trailing after her, talking quietly.

“How bad?” I asked.

“I think his leg is broken, and he has some cuts that need cleaning.” She paused, glancing over at Allie, who was now perched in a chair and thoroughly engrossed in the phone. “I found him at the bottom of a ravine.”

“Wait here, honey, okay?” I said when Sandy pulled open the door to the back.

The receptionist gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded at Allie. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thanks,” I murmured before following Sandy back.

And my heart broke.

“Oh, poor baby,” I crooned, dropping to my knees inside the room where Rocco was. He was wrapped in a blanket, and the parts of him that I could see were covered in scratches and abrasions.

He shifted, trying to stand, and cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” I said softly, continuing to talk to him as I pulled the blanket back and examined his leg.

My throat went tight at the angle—the wrong angle—of the bones. I needed to get him to the vet right away. I reached for my phone before realizing it was currently occupied by Allie. “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked Sandy.

“I called Dr. Johnson a few minutes ago. They’ll be ready for you as soon as you get there.” She sighed. “I don’t know how he got out. We’ve pulled all the dogs inside and are inspecting the fence. I’m so sorry.”

I pushed to my feet. “Thank you for finding him. It would have been—” My voice cracked and I blinked rapidly. “Thank you.”

Sandy nodded before helping me carry Rocco out to my car. We got him settled then I returned to the lobby for Allie. “Thank you for being so patient, sweetheart,” I said as we walked outside. “Rocco needs to see the vet, so we’re going there next.”

Allie’s light brown eyes went wide. “Will he be okay?”

“Of course.” I stroke her baby soft cheek. “He’s got a couple of big boo-boos, but the vet will fix him right up.” I got her buckled into her car seat, sent a silent prayer that my words would be true, and drove to the vet’s office.

The moment my car pulled into the lot, Dr. Johnson came through the doors, scooping Rocco up and carrying him inside.

Allie and I spoke to Jane, the receptionist, before picking Max up from school. Luckily, Kelly was home from her appointment by the time we were heading back to our house, and she zipped over to hang with the kids.

It was only when I was back over to the vet’s office that I realized I hadn’t called Rob.

Nothing.

The word, said with a dismissive tone I’d never heard in my husband’s voice before, blared through my mind.

And he loved Rocco. How would he react to his dog being hurt on my watch? Because of something that I’d wanted to do. I’d shoved Rocco into daycare and hadn’t bothered to keep him safe.

I slid my phone back into my pocket.

Jane smiled when I came through the doors. “I was just going to call you.”

A smile was good, right? It meant Rocco would be okay?

The dog destroyed my shoes and wreaked havoc with the best of them, but I still loved him.

“How is he?”

“Pretty banged up, but Dr. Johnson has the specifics for you. He’s waiting in exam room three.”

At her nod, I slipped past the desk and walked down the hall, knocking before pushing into the room with a three posted outside the door. Rocco was curled on a pile of blankets, looking very drowsy but a lot more comfortable than when I’d dropped him off.

He sported a cast on his back right leg and a myriad of bald spots where they must have shaved him to clean out his cuts. A blue compression bandage was wrapped around one front leg, white gauze peeking out from beneath it.

“Oh, poor Rocco,” I said, and crouched down next to him.

“It looks worse than it is,” Dr. Johnson said, appearing like a ninja in the doorway that led to the restricted back area for staff and patients only.

He was holding a file but set it aside to crouch next to us, giving Rocco a little scratch under his chin.

“Rocco’s a lucky boy. He had a few spots that needed stitches, mainly on his legs and head, as his fur protected him elsewhere.” Rocco’s eyebrows perked up at his name before he settled his head more firmly on his paws with a sigh. “There was a small fracture in the tibia of his right hind leg, but that should heal without issue.”

“Okay,” I said, the twisting in my gut settling slightly. “So he’s okay?”

He nodded, a small smile curving his mouth up. “My only concern at this time is internal bleeding. From what Sandy told me, it seems like he had a pretty big fall.”

“What?”

She’d told me they’d found him at the bottom of a ravine, but I hadn’t put two and two together. My heart twisted further as I imagined him falling, scrambling to stay upright, crashing into rocks and sticks, hurting, scared—

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a long moment.

“He’s okay,” Dr. Johnson said.

I nodded, blinked to clear the tears.

“I’d like to keep him overnight for observation. His X-rays and ultrasound are clear, but just in case.”

I nodded again. “Okay.”

He stood up and grabbed the folder. “Stay with Rocco as long as you want. Just check in with Jane when you leave.”

Rocco shifted, resting his head on my thigh, and Dr. Johnson slipped into the back, closing the door behind him.

I scratched Rocco’s ears gently, allowing my eyes to commit every visible inch of his body—and his many injuries—to memory. I tucked those into my brain, to the section that was extremely good at holding on to guilt.

Those I’d rehash later, punishing myself until I felt I’d suffered enough to make up for his injuries.

Selfish. I’d acted like my mother, pawning my responsibility off onto someone else just so I could have my fun.

I’d had my fun.

And Rocco had gotten hurt.

And . . . it was my fault.

A tear trickled down my cheek, but I brushed it away. I didn’t deserve to purge the emotions, didn’t get to excise the guilt. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t be like my mother. Not ever.

But look what had happened. I’d turned into exactly the kind of selfish bitch she was, and so I had to experience this guilt over and over and over again.

Until I learned. Until I was better. Until I had made up for it.