Ash swallowed some ibuprofen and stretched out. It was hard to remember that the surgery was supposed to help, in the immediate aftermath. He’d not only re-injured his shoulder, but dislocated it as well. It had been worth doing, of course. Maybe someone else wouldn’t think so, but he’d do it all and more for Ross.
The thought of Ross lying there in a pool of blood made him want to run back into the bathroom and throw up, even more than the memory of that bone sticking up out of Ross’ hairy leg.
Porthos stuck his head onto Ash’s thigh, and Ash scratched him behind his ears. “You ready to go out, buddy? Let’s do that.” He grabbed Porthos’ purely decorative leash and a coat from the little table near the door. This wasn’t so bad, and once he got back to work tomorrow it would be better. He
