Snowed In: Shawn and Logan

“Please hurry, Daddy! He could die!”

The high-pitched wails of despair originating from the back seat had been assaulting his ears for at least ten minutes, and if Shawn hit one more damn red light he was going to lose what little patience he had left. “Don’t scream, honey. You’ll scare Charlie.” His calm voice belied his own worry, though.

“But he could die,” she insisted. Again.

Please don’t die, he begged silently. God, if Charlie didn’t make it…he didn’t even want to think about the prospect.

“Daddy! It’s green.”

He could almost feel her eyes rolling behind him. Wasn’t six a little young to have that kind of attitude about parents? He sighed deeply as he pressed the gas and finally—finally—turned left onto 75thStreet. Their destination finally in sight, the tightness in his chest began to subside. Surely they would know what to do. They probably handled this kind of thing all the time. He glanced at the sky, sending another quick prayer to whatever Supreme Being might be in charge of small miracles for the day, and blew out a hard breath.

He was able to pull right up to the door, as the parking lot was nearly empty. Not the usual thing for a late Friday afternoon, but the gray clouds were threatening the area with more snow than they’d seen all year. Other people were smart—they were home, under a blanket, preferably sipping hot cocoa.

Shit. When had he become a Hallmark dad? Friday nights used to be made for partying, throwing back a few beers, hooking up…now it was all Disney movies and smoothies and pink ponies with rainbow tails. And Charlie. He scrubbed his hand over his face, the cold air biting at his skin as soon as he turned off the engine and opened the door. He jumped out and turned to help just as the back passenger door flung open and his daughter flew by in a streak of orange. “Come on, Daddy!”

Shawn pushed the door closed and rushed to catch up with her. He was used to her running—his daughter had only two speeds: whirlwind or asleep—but he didn’t like her running in a parking lot, no matter how close they were to the entrance. He was going to sit her down and have another talk with her about being aware of her surroundings. She was incredibly impulsive and had a one-track mind. Now wasn’t the time, though. He held open the door and gestured for her to go inside.

“Walk, Clem. No running,” he reminded her.

She sniffled as she nodded solemnly, cradling the shoebox to her chest.

“Can I help you?”

God, I hope so.Shawn nodded at the woman seated behind the counter, noting her playful red and white Minnie Mouse scrub top with “Andrea” stitched in black on the upper left section. She flipped her long black braid off her shoulder and smiled down at his daughter, wrinkles crinkling around her eyes and mouth. The compassion in her warm brown eyes gave her a youthful appearance. The too-bright pink lipstick looked a little out of place, but he wasn’t going to judge.

“We don’t have an appointment, but—”

“It’s Charlie. He’s dying!” His daughter raised the green and white box and blinked back the tears in her pale blue eyes.

He squatted next to her and brushed a wayward white-blonde curl behind her ear. “Honey, we don’t know that. Let’s let the doctor have a look at him.”

“That’s right. You come on back and Dr. Copeland will have a looksee, okay?”

He caught Andrea’s gaze and nodded. She was probably used to these situations, but he certainly wasn’t, and he was glad to have someone lead him through this. Shit, if he had to bury Charlie less than two months after he’d arrived…well, “worst Christmas present ever” ran through his mind, quickly followed by “worst gift-giver. #DadFail.” He sent up another prayer, promising if Charlie made it, he’d never complain about cleaning his cage again. Anything to not traumatize Clem.

He stood at the counter and quickly filled out some basic information—name, address, pet information—before they followed Andrea through a door and into a small room to the right. Judging by the size of the metal exam table, Shawn assumed this was where they saw the smaller animals. He reached for the box from his daughter and set it on the small table. She flopped into the plastic orange chair in the corner and folded her arms, her gaze sweeping the room. When she spied a Highlightsmagazine on the counter across from them, her eyes lit up and she bounced over, mind already zeroed in on that.

He lifted the lid and snuck a glimpse at Charlie. He wasn’t moving, but that was par for the course. Charlie had to be the laziest hamster on the planet. He scoffed at his wheel, turned up his nose at the exercise ball, preferring to use it to nap, and he had no desire to be held or played with. But the furry little guy excelled at one thing—Charlie ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks. Shawn tried to measure out his food, but he kept gaining weight. In fact, he’d become so “fluffy,” Shawn had removed the plastic tube Charlie occasionally crawled through because he kept getting stuck.