Ragnar.
The sheep who hated me with truly admirable consistency. The one who sabotaged every single attempt I made to get close to him. The sheep who only respected one person on this earth—Finn—now spends most nights curled up near us like an oversized loyal dog.
Speaking of dogs, Courage is here too.
He’s gotten into the habit of following Ragnar everywhere like a shadow. I think he genuinely believes he’s a sheep now because he bleats more than he barks.
I quietly leave the room and head downstairs to the kitchen.
The kettle whistles.
I make coffee.
Strong coffee.
The way Finn likes it.
The way I’ve learned to like it too.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Finn appears in the doorway wearing wrinkled pajama pants slung low on his hips and a rumpled T-shirt, his hair sticking up everywhere.
“Morning,” he says sleepily.
“Hey.”
He kisses me.
The gesture has become as natural as breathing.
Then he sits at the table while I slide his coffee mug toward him.
“What’s your schedule today?” I ask as I sit across from him.
“Three consultations this morning. Duncan Fraser at ten.”
“Is he coming for an actual appointment or just to talk?”
Finn smiles into his coffee.
“Probably both. He likes explaining his whisky theories to me.”
“He adopted you.”
“Apparently.”
I sip my own coffee.
“I’ve got a litter of puppies coming in for vaccinations. And a horse at the stables that needs a full exam.”
“Busy day.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Nate’s stopping by the clinic this afternoon to finish the last touch-ups. Apparently the baseboards aren’t perfectly aligned or something.”
“He’s a perfectionist.”
