Knox closes the gap between us. “Need help?”
I shake my head, but apparently, he knows that’s a lie since the next thing I feel is his palm at the small of my back. Warm. Firm.
I don’t mean to lean into it. Yet I do anyway, totally hating how much I like it.
Knox carries the bin with Mama Cat tucked safely inside while I hold the kittens in their box cradled to my chest, our urgent steps guiding us through the entrance.
Sliding glass doors open then shut behind us, sealing Knox and me inside a too-bright lobby buzzing with fluorescent lights and low conversational murmurs from behind the counter.
Photos of happy pets line tangerine-colored walls, the smell of disinfectant wafting under my nose.
I let out a sigh of relief, thankful the clinic is empty, save for a gray-bearded man seated with a Yorkie panting wildly in his lap.
A cheery vet tech, with red-framed glasses perched low on his nose, greets Knox and me before we’ve even had a chance to reach the desk. “Hey there! What do we have?”
“She’s in labor and not doing quite so well,” Knox tells him, placing Mama Cat’s bin onto the counter. “A stray we found in the attic.”
“She had two kittens on her own already,” I add, shifting the box in my arms. “We think more are coming.”
The vet tech’s expression softens. “Come with me. Let’s get Mom and her babies into a room.”
He leads us down a hall, glancing over his shoulder with a smile. “Not too many would go this far for a stray. It’s awesome to see a couple this committed.”
“Oh! No.” I blink. “I mean—no. We’re not…” I trail off, my attempt at an explanation wobbling.
“We’re only neighbors,” Knox offers with a smirk, but I catch a muscle tensing along his jaw.
“Uh-huh.” The vet tech holds the door to an exam room open. “Only neighborsis how most of our town’s married couples got started.”
With a half laugh, half cough, I hurry into the room before my face bursts into flames, myneighbor’sfootsteps trailing behind me.
Inside, it’s stark and sterile. Almost too quiet, if not for the gentle hum of an air conditioner vent overhead.
Knox gently sets Mama Cat, snug inside her bin, onto the exam table.
“Let’s take a look at our girl here.” The vet tech, whose name tag reads Dex, lifts the bin’s lid with care, eyes widening as theyland on Mama Cat. “Well, I’ll be… Wanda? We wondered where you’d drifted off to.”
“Wait…Wanda?” I ask.
“Yup. She’s kind of our in-house legend,” Dex explains, lifting Mama Cat—er,Wanda—out of the bin. “Wanda the Wanderer.” He lays her onto a towel spread across the exam table, hands moving with practiced care. “She doesn’t really belong to anyone. Been part of this clinic for years. Comes and goes as she pleases. We’ve tried trapping her for a spay, but she’s slippery as hell. Usually hangs out near the break room. Every few months, she disappears, and we all start betting where she’ll turn up next. But this time, she took off while pregnant. Had the whole staff worried sick.”
Knox rests a hand on the edge of the table, watching Dex with a quiet intensity.
“She was on the porch this morning,” I say. “When I tried to give her water, she was gone before I got back. We figured she must’ve gotten inside and made her way to the attic.”
“Well,” Dex says, checking Wanda’s breathing, “looks like she picked the right attic.” He chuckles. “She’s definitely running on more than nine lives.”
Beside me, Knox shifts closer, our arms brushing.
Warmth jolts down my spine.
Stupid body clearly didn’t get theonly neighborsmemo.
Wanda lets out a low, gravelly meow, more breath than sound.
We all let out a collectiveawwwhen a knock on the door flits everyone’s attention to a man in navy-blue scrubs who steps inside.
He’s as old as my dad, maybe, hair whitening at both sides, clipboard tucked under one arm.
