“You have a vetanda vet tech in your pack,” Mari says. “The safest home he could be at would be yours, besides living here. Logan already has two cats, right?”
Bean would love Stella and Trooper. Stella would have a little hissy at first, but Trooper would welcome a little brother with open paws.
The purring subsides, and I realize that Bean has fallen asleep in my arms.
“I’ll think about it,” I say nervously.
The idea of someone else adopting Bean breaks my heart.
But the idea of caring for him scares me, too.
We haveseven successful adoptions today.
Charity isamazingwith the potential adopters and fosters, happily educating and providing resources.
We only have one new rescue, a plump grey and white tabby with an attitude, but Logan checks for a microchip, and said cat is successfully reunited with their tearful and grateful owner.
It is a great first day back. I spend my lunch with Logan, and about an hour before we close and the first support group meeting starts, my brother shows up.
It isn’t until I see him that I realize how much I missed him. He appears tired, but gives me small smile when he enters, a takeout bag in hand.
“A peace offering,” he says kindly, handing it to me. “For how I acted the other day.”
But there’s still a crease between his brow, the one he has when he’s worried and fretting about something.
“You want to talk outside?” I ask, and he sighs in relief.
“Yes,” he says. “If that’s okay with you,” he looks to Piper, who sits at the desk and raises an eyebrow.
“Avery, you don’t have to ask me permission to speak to yoursister,” she chides.
“Well, in case she was busy,” he insists, but there’s a fondness in his eyes as he looks at her.
“Just be back before we start the group,” Piper says, and I nod.
“Of course.”
Nerves eat at me when I lead Avery outside to the bench, salmon bowl in hand.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt as soon as he joins me.
He looks at me incredulously. “What on earth could you be sorry about?”
I dance my fingers along the plastic lid of the bowl. “For not being honest. From keeping everything from you and lashing out.”
Avery shakes his head. “You had every right to do that. I panicked and got overprotective. You’re an adult, and you can make your own choices.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, but I still want your approval. I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I admit shamefully.
“Maeve,” he says softly. “I am never mad at you. The last time I was genuinely angry was when you ripped one of my old comic books, and that was a good ten years ago.”
I snort. “Youhavebeen upset at me since then. And it was anaccident! Why would I do it on purpose?”
“I don’t know, how could it have possibly ripped like that? The page was split in half.”
I pop the lid off the bowl and dig in with my chopsticks. “I don’t know, it just happened,” I say over a mouthful of rice. “It really wasn’t my fault.”
“Hmm.”
