There are three kittens in total, white with cute faces and ridiculously loud pairs of lungs. They mew and whimper in the passenger seat while I try to offer them comfort in one hand while steering with the other.
I’m going to the rescue.
She might be there.
Blair, my scent match, might be there.
Anxiety squeezes my chest, and I continue petting the kittens, running my fingers over their soft fur.
Get it together, Rowan.
These kittens need help.
Holding the box, I push open the door to the rescue with my shoulder, the electronic chime beeping as I walk in.
There are two Omegas at the front counter, and neither are Blair. The purple haired one sees me first, and her eyebrows furrow, until she sees what I’m holding.
“Hi,” the purple-haired Omega says, her face breaking into a grin. “Who do you have there?” She stands closer and peers into the box in my hands. “Piper, look at them! They’re adorable.”
“I found them outside a dumpster,” I say, my voice low. “I think they were abandoned. Pets Express told me to talk to you and gave me a can of milk.”
“A dumpster? Assholes,” the other Omega, Piper, hisses. “You can put the box on the counter. Let’s see who you found.”
“Oh,” the purple-haired girl coos, “they’re gorgeous. And so clean, too. They must not have been there long.”
Both women fuss over the kittens while I stand and watch, unsure what to do.
I can’t exactly ask about Blair. There’s the faintest hint of violets emanating from the desk, but she’s definitively not in the building anymore.
Fuck.
“So, do I just drop them off with you, or…” I trail off awkwardly as Piper opens the can of kitten formula that was in the box.
“We need you to sign a form before you leave,” she says, not turning her attention away from the kitten. She lifts one up, then the other two.
“Girls,” she says. “You found a box of girl kittens.”
The purple-haired Omega hands Piper a tiny bottle, and soon, Piper is feeding the kitten.
I watch, surprised at the contentment on the kitten’s face. Little paws flex and knead in the air as the cat drinks, tiny gulps filling the air.
Piper catches me staring at the kitten. “You want to try? We can always use more fosters. Maeve, you want to grab him a bottle?”
“Yeah, these guys look healthy,” Maeve confirms. “You should try feeding them! Do you want to foster?”
I stare dumbly at both of them. “Foster?”
“Do you have cats already?” Piper continues, pulling the bottle out of the kitten’s mouth and gently massaging its throat. “Do you have any experience?”
“We just adopted a cat from here,” I mutter, wondering how awkward this conversation is going to turn.
Piper’s eyes widen. “I’m such an idiot,” she sighs. “I knew you looked familiar. You don’t happen to have a brother, do you?”
I nod. “Ryland? Yeah. I’m Rowan.”
Maeve opens and closes her mouth. “I’m not crazy, then,” she says.
Ryland and I aren’t identical. We each wear our hair different: mine is messier, his is cropped shorter. My eyes are light blue, whereas his are a deep, dark brown. He’s clean shaven while I prefer to have more scruff.
