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Chapter 96: Bath
Lucas's Perspective
The drive back to Lockwood estate was quiet—Jenny humming along with the radio, me replaying the day in my head. When we pulled into the long driveway, I didn't expect to see Susan's car already parked by the steps. She usually wasn't home this early.
Inside the mansion, Milo was the first to greet us. His tail wagged, ears perked, and he bounded straight to Jenny before circling back to me, practically demanding attention. Jenny crouched down, giggling, and Milo responded with an affectionate nuzzle.
That's when Susan appeared from the hall. She gave Milo a long look, then turned her gaze toward me. With a subtle tilt of her head, she gestured toward her study.
"Jenny, keep Milo company," I said gently. "I'll be right back."
Jenny nodded, too caught up in rubbing Milo's ears to pay us much mind.
Inside the study, the air felt heavier. The shelves of leather-bound books loomed over us, the late afternoon sunlight cutting sharp lines across the floor. Susan closed the door and turned toward me.
"The staff complained about Milo," she began, her tone measured but not harsh. "They tried to give him a bath. He wouldn't let them near him. Hid in your room until now."
I didn't respond immediately, just waited.
Her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. "He's not just shy, is he?"
I met her gaze. No use dodging. "The vet basically confirmed it. Milo's been through somethings before we found him."
For a long moment, Susan was quiet. I could see her weighing the words, her expression softer than usual.
"Does Jenny know?" she asked finally.
I shook my head. "No. And there's no reason for her to."
Susan exhaled slowly, folding her arms. "I've heard dogs like that… it's difficult for them to trust humans again."
"I know," I said. "But you don't need to worry. Milo won't hurt Jenny or anyone else. I'll train him myself."
Her eyes lingered on me, searching, before she replied. "I wasn't suggesting we get rid of him. I was going to say—maybe we hire a professional dog trainer. But if you think you can handle it… then go ahead."
That caught me off guard. From what I have seen, trust wasn't something Susan handed out lightly.
"Thank you," I said, meaning it.
She gave the faintest smile, the kind you could almost miss. "You care about him. That's good. Jenny needs someone in her corner who sees things the way you do."
Something eased in me then. Despite the distance between us, I realised that Susan wasn't cold. She understood—more than she let on. And she was giving me space to prove myself.
"I'll start with something simple," I said after a pause. "Jenny and I will give him a bath. Together. Make it part of his routine."
Susan nodded. "Then I'll leave it in your hands."
As I left her study, I realized something had shifted. Not just about Milo, but between Susan and me. Beneath the mansion's polished walls and the distance between us, we were starting to open up to each other.
And for the first time, I appreciated how much that mattered — a fact that became even clearer when Jenny's eyes went wide at the mention of giving Milo a bath.
"A bath? You mean like… actually in the tub?!"
"Yes, Jenny," I said flatly, "the dog has to be clean."
Jenny scrunched her nose. "This feels like punishment disguised as responsibility."
Milo, as if sensing what was about to happen, backed away slowly and sat by the door, ears pinned and eyes wary. He wasn't growling, but his whole posture screamed don't you dare.
I crouched down in front of him. "It's okay, Milo. Just water. Nothing bad." My voice carried more than words—I let the calm flow through me, my aura brushing against his mind. His stiff shoulders loosened, and his ears perked a little.
Jenny watched, fascinated. "You make it look like magic. With me, he acts like a stubborn toddler."
"Because you let him get away with things," I teased. "He knows I won't."
It took both of us to guide him into the bathroom. Jenny laid towels across the floor while I filled the tub with lukewarm water. Milo stood stiffly by my side, his gaze fixed on the water like it was a trap.
I rested a hand on his back. "Safe. Trust me."
This time, he didn't resist when I lifted him into the tub. He didn't love it either—his paws shifted uneasily against the porcelain—but he didn't fight. Jenny giggled nervously, kneeling beside us with a cup.
"Okay, Milo, first rinse." She scooped water and gently poured it down his back. Milo twitched, startled, but didn't move away.
"That's it," I murmured, my voice steady and calm. "Good boy."
Piece by piece, we worked through it. Jenny lathered shampoo into his fur, her hands gentle, while I kept my arm across his chest, grounding him. Whenever he got tense, I leaned in, whispered reassurance, and let the werewolf edge of my presence steady him.
"Lucas," Jenny whispered after a while, "he's actually letting us do this. I thought he'd freak out."
"He wants to trust," I said. "He just needs to know it's safe."
We avoided the wound on his back leg, washing carefully around it. I made sure no soap or water touched it, keeping his healing skin clean. By the end, Milo was soaked, shampoo rinsed, his fur sleek and heavy with water.
Jenny wrapped him in a towel so big he looked like a furry burrito. "Oh my God, he's so cute like this!"
Milo gave a little shake, spraying water across the bathroom. Jenny squealed. I just sighed.
Ten minutes later, Milo was dry enough to pad happily around the hall, his fur fluffier than I'd ever seen. He wagged his tail at Jenny, then nudged my hand with his nose as if to say okay… I guess that wasn't so bad.
Jenny smiled brightly. "See? Teamwork."
"Yeah," I said, scratching behind Milo's ears. "Teamwork."
It was a simple thing—a bath. But standing there with Jenny laughing, Milo splashing water on the walls, and me just feeling us all getting closer — it felt like family.