-3-

Doctor Hale's big green eyes somehow widen even further when I walk into her animal clinic, growing to take up almost half her face. She's always looked a little like a scared fly, but she's really grown into the look. Pocket-sized and frail-looking, the eyes, paired with the button nose and the full lips, give her sort of an innocent look that's almost indecent. That's probably how she bagged Erwin's hottest bachelor to hear the town talk.

Jasper Hale is old money, son of the wealthy oil tycoon that built this city and most of the ones around us, but he doesn't act like it. He's humble and kind, not afraid to get his hands dirty and help where it's needed. That, along with his wavy blonde hair and olive kissed skin, make him look like he belongs on the west coast. They're our very own small-town Ken and Barbie, perfect in all the right ways.

"Oh, Edward, if you're not the last person I expected to walk into my clinic," Alice drawls, lips curling up at the corners of her mouth because she probably remembers how I'd shoot bbs at the neighborhood cats, and here I am holding one.

It was shitty, but I was a kid and didn't know any better.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Alice, I know. Infamously anti-animal, but I found this guy last night in the yard, and I wanted to get this cut on his leg checked out."

"Yeah, definitely. Come on back, and let's take a look at him."

The room she brings me into is homier than any human doctor's office I've ever seen, the steel table in the middle of the room looking way out of place. I keep the cat tight against me when I set him down, concerned with how uneasy the scared look in his eyes makes me feel.

Sure, it's a living creature, but it's still just a cat.

Alice seems to be a natural as she immediately starts talking to the cat, cooing and soothing him with practice. She checks his eyes and ears, then gives him some pats that look like they may serve a purpose beyond comfort, and then looks up at me.

"Where's the damage?"

"His back leg, closest to you," I offer, shifting my arm so she can reach the affected area.

"Did you put anything on it aside from the gauze?" She asks, brushing the hair back to inspect the cut.

"No, ma'am. I used some warm water to clean it out, but I don't know a damn thing about what can hurt cats, so I didn't bother with nothin' else."

"Anything else, Edward. Miss Esme would tan your hide if she knew you still talked with that terrible grammar."

I have to laugh at that cause fuck if she ain't right. Growing up, our English teacher always did hate how I talked; like I had been born in the junkyard, I grew up in.

"It looks okay. I'm going to have to shave the fur around it, but it's nothing a little liquid stitch won't fix. I will give you an antibiotic he'll need twice a day just to avoid any infection that may have gotten in there."

I gotta admit, I'm relieved. On the way over, I was worried about him losing his leg and all kinds of stuff.

"Yes, ma'am," is as close as I get to expressing my relief, scrubbing my fingers behind the cat's ears and reveling in his purr.

"I'm gonna scan for a microchip while I'm at it too, okay? Just in case he has an owner out there missing him."

I agree, but I don't feel good about it. Truth of the matter is, I've grown attached to the little guy already. But if I like him this much, I can only imagine how his real owner feels.