The vet takes him from my arms and looks him over. He asks me questions—about Oreo and hockey—as he examines him. I do my best not to fidget in the hard plastic chair.
“It looks like he has a bit of a temperature,” he tells me.
“Will you be able to treat that?” I ask.
He nods. “Of course. Bunnies get sick just like the rest of us, so I’m glad you brought him in. I’ll have our nurse get you some meds, and he should perk up in a few days.”
“Thanks for not making me feel stupid,” I tell him, taking Oreo back into my arms.
“Pets are our family. I have two dogs, three cats, and my own bunny at home. Believe me, I get it.”
I smile at him. “That’s way more than I could ever manage.”
“I guess not with your schedule.” He sticks his hand out for me to shake. “We’ll get you the oral prescription, and it should be cleared up in a few days. If he’s still lethargic, you can take him to your regular vet to follow up. And listen, you keep up the good work. I’d like another trophy brought home.”
I blow out the breath I’ve been holding. “I’ll try, thanks. And I really appreciate you fitting us in tonight.”
“It’s why we’re here.” He gives me a warm smile before heading out the door he came through.
“See? All’s okay, Oreo.” I squat down to look him in the eyes. He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but it’s more to put me at ease than anything else.
I don’t know how parents handle sick kids when I’m this worked up over my pet rabbit.
“Okay, Mr. Brooks-Young. Five milliliters twice a day for a week and that should have Oreo feeling better in no time.” Thenurse enters the room and hands me a white bag. “Your wife is waiting for you outside.”
“Wife?” I grab the white bag and scoot Oreo back into his carrier.
I follow her out the door I came in, wondering who on earth is here. Piper didn’t come, did she?
But when the door to the waiting area opens, I draw up short.
“Bexley?”
A Black Diamonds cap hides her face, but I’d recognize her anywhere. She’s wearing a black jacket over a plain white T-shirt and joggers.
What in the world is she doing here?
“Mr. Brooks-Young?”
“Sorry.” I shake off the stupor of seeing Bexley and pay for the office visit before following her outside.
“How’s Oreo?” Bex asks. It’s dark now, the only light coming from the office behind us and the diner next door. The parking lot lights don’t really shine much next to the building.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her by way of answer.
She smiles up at me. “You sounded worried.”
“In a text?”
“You rambled.”
Fuck me. Of course I did. “Sorry, I guess I was more worried than I thought.”
“You have a bunny?” she asks, crossing her arms.
“I do.”
“And is he doing okay?”
