Markie launched himself with a short, clumsy glide and landed against her chest, feathers puffing as he settled. He burrowed into her lap and tucked his head under her chin, muttering something that sounded suspiciously satisfied.
“MAMA,” he said softly.
Zoey laughed and cupped her hand around him, her whole body softening. “There you are,” she murmured.
Markie clicked once and went still.
I stayed where I was, my heart flipping wildly, which it had not asked permission to do.
“That was impressive,” Zoey said, looking up at me. “He only lets me carry him.”
I shrugged.
She studied me longer than necessary. Warmth moved through my chest, then settled there.
Markie shifted and settled harder into her, one foot tucked, eyes half closed. His feathers had smoothed down to show his contentment. Zoey’s hand moved in slow, absent passes along his back. She looked steadier with him there. Less braced. I registered it and filed it away.
I also had the immediate, deeply unhelpful urge to go cuddle beside them. To curl up onto the couch and let Zoey lean against me while the bird curled up with us, like that was a normal thing to want.
I remembered the ice cream when the freezer hummed loudly.
I took two steps toward it, but then the front door opened.
I was at Zoey’s side before I had time to think about how fast I moved, positioning myself so whoever it was would have to deal with me first.
It was a child.
A small girl stood in the doorway, with a backpack slipping off one shoulder and light-up sneakers that blinked when she stopped moving. She took in the room in a single sweep. The boxes stacked along the wall. The bird enclosure by the window. Zoey on the couch with her ankle elevated. Me standing close to her.
“Bobbi,” Zoey said.
The girl, Bobbi apparently, bounced in as if she belonged here. Her backpack hung open, one strap twisted. Her sneakers lit up with each step, red, then blue, then red again. She clocked me first. Then the ice cream on the counter. Then Markie settled on Zoey’s lap.
“You’re back!”
Markie lifted his head and produced a low sound that carried judgment.
“Hi, Markie,” Bobbi said. “I like your room better now.”
“ASS,” Markie replied conversationally.
Zoey didn’t react. She didn’t even twitch. “I’d call that progress.”
I let out a slow breath. It wasn’t one of relief exactly, more like orientation. This child was a known entity, not an immediate threat. I adjusted my stance, just enough to keep Zoey within reach without crowding her.
Bobbi looked up at me with open curiosity, assessing. “You’re new.”
“Yes.”
She nodded once. “You’re big.”
“Also yes.”
“That’s fine,” she decided, and then she turned back to Zoey without another thought. “My mom is on her way. She was worried I would bug you.”
“That feels accurate,” Zoey said.
Bobbi grinned. Her attention slid back to the counter where the ice cream sat softening. “Is that ice cream?”
