“I’m not looking for a handout,” I assure him. “Just a place to crash while I figure out what to do next—just a few nights. I’ll cook, clean, and?—”
“I’ll be having none of that.”
My mouth falls open and the familiar feeling of fear coils in my gut. “I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way?—”
“I didn’t say you had to go, but you’re not my maid, and that’s that.” He gets up from his seat and goes to the pot simmering on the stove.
I follow him. “I could clean your clinic each day while I study for my GED?”
“You’ll get your GED—but you’re not lifting a damn finger.” He takes on a lecturing tone. “Not when you’re supposed to be studying.”
“But how will I earn my keep?”
“By passing your exam.”
I chuckle derisively. “Then expect to be disappointed.”
He ladles two helpings of stew into bowls and moves back to the table. I return to my seat, wondering if I’ve fallen and bonked my head, because there’s no way Kellan Blackwood is just going to let me live at his house indefinitely while I study.
He starts in on his stew, completely unbothered while my stomach is twisted in knots.
“Do you not like stew?” he asks between bites.
Ignoring his question, I blurt, “I can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Pass the exam. I’ve already tried. Twice. And failed.”
He takes another bite and shrugs his big shoulders. “Then I guess you’ll have to try again.”
“And if I fail?”
“Then I’ll start tutoring you myself, if I have to.”
3
KELLAN
Life on the mountain starts early each morning, and rarely does a day go by without a hiccup.
This morning’s fiasco was Don Juan the goat getting his head stuck in the fence.
But the disastrous morning didn’t end there.
After I wrangled him free, I introduced Gerry to the flock. It’s common for existing members to go hard on new birds as their pecking order is disturbed, which is why I only introduced him visually, in his own small cage.
Somehow, as I stepped away, Rascal and Attila, two alpha roosters as I like to call them, broke into Gerry’s enclosure and did some minor damage.
“Is he going to be okay?” Greer asks as I bring Gerry over to an exam table I have set up in the guest room.
Her hair is piled in a messy bun atop her head, a few copper strands escaping to frame her face. Her eyes carry just a hint of exhaustion that makes me want to pull her close and let her rest against my chest.
She’s wearing one of my old T-shirts she must have borrowed. It’s way too big, yet I find it more charming than any fitted dress.
“Go back to sleep,” I tell her.
CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
