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“What’s the matter, Blondie?” Chris squeezed my leg and lowered his head to study me.
“Nothing.” With a shake of my head, I looked away from him and set the phone down. I had no poker face, and the last thing I wanted to do was give him more to worry about.
But with every hour, anxiety was building up inside me. It wasn’t only the workload that had me feeling bad for not being there. Sarge was a fan favorite, and I’d worked with him longer than any of the other birds in residence. The idea of losing him was enough to make my eyes sting with tears.
As covertly as I could, I breathed deep once, and then again, searching for calm. Chris needed me here.
“We’re going to grab coffee.” Chris stood and loomed over me until I tilted my chin up and acknowledged him. He tilted his head toward the door.
Swallowing thickly, I stood too. Then I followed him out.
We’d only made it a few steps down the hall when he stopped. “What’s the issue?”
I lowered my focus to a spot near the base of his neck, unable to maintain eye contact, and shook my head. “Just work.”
He dipped his chin, catching my eye, and squinted.
“It’s not a huge deal.” With a long breath out, I stared at my UGGs, scuffing one, then the other, on the white tile.
It was the biggest issue we’d had at the zoo since I’d taken over as the head of avian medicine, so that was a lie. It was a big deal. But he’d almost lost his dad this week. A heart attack was a bigger deal.
He tucked a hand under my chin and pressed lightly, making me look at him. His dark eyes demanded answers.
“It’s just bird flu.”
He cocked his head and blinked several times. “Wait…” He searched my face, frowning deeply. “That’s the one…that…kills birds.” He went ramrod straight and grasped my wrists.
“I don’t think it’s that strain.” With the way the peacocks were responding to treatment, it was likely the low-pathogenic strain. The lesser of two evils. So staying here for a few more days might be okay.
“Avery.” He shook his head. “You’re their doctor. If you have sick birds, you need to be there.”
“It’s—”
“Stop.” Chris cut me off, squeezing both of my wrists gently in emphasis. “If we were talking about a disease in humans and you were their doctor, there would be no debate.”
I couldn’t disagree. And if I were on vacation, I’d already be on my way home. But that wasn’t the case. I was needed here too.
He sucked in a harsh breath, and his eyes went wide. Sliding his hands down to mine, he laced our fingers and clutched them tight. “Puff is okay, right?”
“He’s not sick. But we’ll have to test all the birds now.”
“If you’re not there, that means there are only six people available to do that?” he asked.
“Seven,” I corrected. “One vet, the five zoologists, and an intern.”
He nodded. “Okay. This is what’s going to happen. We’re going to say goodbye, and then you’re going to go back to Boston. They need you.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip to keep it from trembling. “I thought.” I swallowed, considering him: the frown on his face, his low brows. “I thought you did too.”
His lips pulled up into an almost smile, a rare sight, and he cupped my cheek. “More than you could ever know. But I’m good now. It’s time for you to go take care of our little guy and his feathered friends.”
I coughed and reared back, a little shocked. “Did you just call Puffour little guy?”
With a sigh, he lowered his hand from my face. He grasped my hand again and tugged me back toward his father’s room. “Come on, Blondie.”
Stumbling behind him, I replayed his words and considered how passionately he’d fought to convince me to go home and help. God, this man was incredible. And I hated that so few people saw the real him.
“Avery has to go back to Boston,” he announced as soon as he stepped into the room. “She’s having a vet emergency.”
