If she won’t give me answers, I’ll find them myself.
Lucy meows, a tiny, pitiful sound.
“Don’t worry, you’re going home,” Doctor Zacharias says. She lifts the kennel to let me see inside. The fleece blanket I used to trap Lucy is folded nicely, as cozy as a bird’s nest. She’s sitting at the back, gazing at me with big blue eyes.
Blue, not purple.Thisis the angelic kitten I adopted—and to top it off, there’s a pink ribbon around her neck.
“Oh, she looks so cute.” My anger melts away, replaced with a wave of relief and gratitude over having her back. “Hi, sweetie.”
She meows again, flashing her little teeth.
“I wanted to make her presentable for her return,” Doctor Zacharias says.
I meet her gaze. “You put the ribbon on?”
She presses her lips together, almost bashful.
Dammit, now I feel bad for getting snippy. “I—well—thank you. I’m glad she’s safe and healthy.”
Something I can’t decipher glints in her brown eyes. “And I’m glad she’s going to a home where she’ll be loved deeply.”
Her voice reverberates in my chest like a subwoofer.
As she passes the kennel to me by the handle, our fingers entwine. A ridiculous giggle escapes me as I try to ignore the heat zapping up my arm. “Oop—got it.”
Oop?What’s wrong with me?
My skin tingles where her warm, soft fingers slid between mine.
Lucy gives a tiny meow, as if asking if we can go now.
“I know, baby, we’ll cuddle as soon as we get back,” I tell her.
Doctor Zacharias turns to fidget with the pens on the front desk. “Is she your first cat?”
The question feels more personal than clinical, catching me off-guard. I nod. “I’m just here for school and wanted a study buddy.”
“Just for school? You think you won’t like Vancouver enough to stay?” Her tone is teasing, a peek at a different side of her.
I lift a shoulder. “It’s nice here, but… it’s not home.”
She studies me as I try to act like mentioning home didn’t just punch a hole in my heart. Why did I think applying to a university across the country was a good idea?
The door swings open with a softwhoosh, letting in a gust of cool autumn air. A girl my age runs in, holding a squirming golden retriever puppy. “My dog swallowed a bunch of LEGO,” she cries, her eyes watery.
The vet tech grabs a clipboard. “Please fill this out,” she says in the same flat tone she used with me.
I step toward the door with Lucy’s kennel, the handle firm and comforting in my grip. “Thanks again.” I swallow hard. “Can I at least have your first name?”
She pauses for a fraction of a second. “Natalie.”
“Natalie. I’m Katie.”
She must have known that already, but she nods anyway, her dark eyes gleaming.
I wave and turn away. Will this be the last time I see her? On the one hand, that would be a good thing, given her job in infectious diseases. On the other hand… it’s been at least a year since anyone made me feel like fireflies were waking up inside me.
Natalie. Nat. Doctor Natalie Zacharias.
