Walker studies me for a moment. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
“Sure, but I came to terms a long time ago that it was just a silly pipe dream, and that’s all right. I’ll manage with the space I have, like always,” I add with a smile.
Walker frowns, clearly not satisfied with my answer, but before he can push further, Briar calls out to us.
“Walker, Birdie, let’s go,” she whisper-shouts from the truck.
That’s when I look around and see that everyone else is already inside, waiting for us.
The rest of my life might be imploding, but at least I have the best friends a girl could ask for, the kind who don’t think twice about showing up, no matter the risk.
You Belong With Me
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Mrs. Bixby exclaims to Sheriff Matterson as she marches down Birdie’s drive. “That daughter of yours is hiding that donkey and cow in her shed, and it’s the last straw. I already have to deal with being neighbors to dozens of wayward animals.” She gestures toward the group of rabbits huddled under Birdie’s truck.
“Now, just a minute, Mrs. Bixby. While I appreciate you bringing this to our attention,let’s hold off on accusations until we investigate further, all right?” he replies, tugging on his collar like it’s too tight.
I don’t envy the position he’s in—caught between doing his job as sheriff and being a father.
He sent me a message early this morning, saying Mason left him a voicemail about Mrs. Bixby’s complaint and that he’d be stopping by Birdie’s to check it out—asking if I’d be there. I figured it was his subtle way of warning her through me while keeping it on the down low. Not sure what he expected we could do about it on such short notice, but regardless, we’ve got this handled.
I made a point to show up dressed in a casual gray T-shirt and Wranglers, making it clear I’m here strictly as Birdie’s boyfriend and not in any official capacity. She deserves someone whose only focus is on her, free from outside distractions or agendas.
Mason came straight from his shift at the sheriff’s office, insisting on being here since he took the call. He’s got that damn smug grin plastered on his face, making my blood boil. The only silver lining was the shock on his face when he showed up and found me standing on the porch. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to be here, which makes what’s about to happen all the more satisfying.
Birdie steps outside, smiling as she straightens the floral bandana on her head. It’s only been a few hours since I saw her, but it feels like a lifetime. We didn’t get to spend the night together because I had to get Peaches and Daisy settled into their temporary home and check on them again before heading over this morning. I’m running on fumes, but seeing her makes it completely worth it.
“Morning, everyone,” she says with a cheerful wave. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Is everything all right?”
“Good morning, kiddo. Sorry to come by unannounced.” Her dad apologizes with a tip of his hat. “Mrs. Bixby reported seeing that missing donkey and cow in your shed. Mind if we take a look?”
“Is that right?” She turns to Mrs. Bixby with a polite smile. “I wish you’d asked me directly. It’s always a pleasure whenyou stop by, especially when you bring one of your delicious lasagnas.”
She is calm and composed, not a trace of nervousness in sight. Even knowing that things will go in her favor, the old Birdie would have been fidgety and unsure. Seeing how much her confidence has grown fills me with pride.
“You haven’t been around much lately,” Mrs. Bixby says, shooting a glance between Birdie and me. “And when I spotted the stolen animals, I couldn’t just stay quiet if it might help the authorities close the case.”
“I understand. I know my dad… I mean, Sheriff Matterson, appreciates the tip,” Birdie replies.
The sheriff opens his mouth to add his two cents when suddenly Nugget bursts through the doggie door, clucking as she hops down the porch to where we’re standing, weaving between Birdie’s legs. She squawks loudly in Mrs. Bixby’s direction before waddling over to Mason and giving his shoe a sharp peck. I laugh as he yelps, stumbling backward like he’s being attacked by a feral predator instead of a tiny, curious chicken.
Unimpressed by Mason’s reaction to her inspection, Nugget flaps her wings before shooting across the yard toward the pond where the ducks and geese are enjoying their morning swim.
“See what I have to put up with? There’s something seriously wrong with that thing,” Mrs. Bixby says, gesturing toward Nugget, who’s settled onto a rock and fluffed up like she intends to hatch it.
“It’s just a chicken, ma’am. We have them all over Bluebell,” Sheriff Matterson explains.
She shakes her head. “Ones that live in the house and come running out of a doggie door? I don’t think so.”
Even before I showed up this morning, I was convinced that Birdie needs a better setup for her animals. After getting a firsthand glimpse of what she deals with from Mrs. Bixby, I’mnow more determined to come up with a plan that allows her to rescue and keep as many animals as she wants without landing herself in trouble again.
So what if some of the animals are different? That’s what makes them special—just like the woman who saves them. Birdie also deserves a haven of her own. I admire how she’s opened her home and yard to every creature in need, but she’s sacrificed so much of her personal space and deserves more than living on the margins of her own home.
“Why don’t we get on with what we came here for?” Sheriff Matterson suggests, motioning toward the shed in the backyard.
“Fine by me,” Mrs. Bixby says, leading the way.
Mason is right behind her with a bounce in his step, while Sheriff Matterson follows reluctantly, glancing back at Birdie every few seconds. She offers him a small smile, and I hate that he can’t comfort her the way a father should. It’s one of the unfortunate consequences of being sheriff—sometimes the law has to come before everything else.
