The shoebox, predictably, held a hamster with a small abrasion, most likely from a midnight adventure gone wrong. I soothed the children, checked the little guy over, and offered sunflower seeds as a consolation prize. They beamed as though I’d just saved a life. Maybe I had, in their world.
Austin didn’t hover. He stayed off to the side until he noticed something that needed attention. I could feel him nearby, watching, his presence comfortable and familiar. He slid anextra chair into place when Ed needed to sit, fixed a wobbling table leg with a multitool, and handed me a fresh roll of gauze just as I reached for one. He was always one step ahead.
At one point, I bent over the Persian cat, listening to its heart, when the pole from the pop-up sign shifted behind me. Before I could react, Austin’s hand shot out, steadying the pole and keeping it upright. I turned to fix the pole, but Austin was already on it. He winked at me with a half-smirk before turning back to the pole and the fallen sign.
My pulse stuttered. The cat meowed, and I nearly forgot to breathe.
By mid-morning, the fairground hall smelled of coffee, hay, and lemon disinfectant. Sue Carter appeared with a thermos and a tray of muffins. “Figured you could use a snack,” she declared, slipping right into her matriarch role, ushering people, handing out paperwork, and keeping the line moving.
I scribbled notes between patients, each one adding to the last. Making notes in mock files until I could make official ones. This was better than working at the clinic on free checkup days that Nancy attempted to bring in clients and improve her numbers.
And every time I looked up, Austin was there, his quiet certainty a constant anchor.
I had doubted that Penny was right when I received the inheritance, but since moving here, I think maybe Penny had been right. Maybe I did belong here.
My pop-up table was already stacked high with patient files, forms, and a half-full treat jar. I’d barely wrangled the piglet crisis when Cassie appeared, plunking down a plate of cookies iced in neon blue with white sprinkles. “Don’t worry, they’re just cookies. Science club made them.”
I laughed, my shoulders loosening. “I’ll risk it.”
“Good. And I’ll be back after my tutoring session; today is ribosomes versus lysosomes.”
She pulled me into a quick hug, her curly hair tickling my cheek, then squeezed Austin’s arm on her way out. “Keep her hydrated, spreadsheet man. She runs on caffeine and chaos.”
Austin gave a small salute, deadpan. “Copy that.”
By the time Cassie slipped out again, the crowd had thickened. “Would you like some lemonade? I believe Sue brought some?” Austin asked as I reached for a water bottle to find it was empty.
“And if you want me on cleanup detail, just say the word,” Sue offered.
“Thank you, Sue.”
Sarah Baldwin, flanked by her fiancé Mason, came to offer help and see if we needed anything. Mason looked like he’d just stepped off a construction site, dust still clinging to his work boots.
“Good timing,” Sue said, pointing to a stack of trash bags. “Mason, dear, do you mind?” Mason grinned and shrugged, then ducked away to take out the trash.
Levi arrived last, wearing his firefighter tee. He nodded at Austin, then went off to help Mason with whatever Sue had them doing.
The fairground hum swelled: kids playing off near the back and out of the way, dogs yapping, someone trying to tie a pony to the rail out front. It was warm and bright and dizzying. And then, through the chaos, I caught sight of Austin.
He was standing with Mason and Levi, a little apart but not aloof. Mason cracked a joke about “rookie mistakes,” and Levi piled on with a chili cook-off story. For the first time since we landed in Everwood, Austin laughed—really laughed, head tilted, teeth flashing, the works.
The sound gave me butterflies.
Mason nudged him. “You military?”
“Was,” Austin said simply. Now it all made sense. His rigid demeanor, his attention to detail. It was all there. No wonder.
Levi grinned. “Explains the stance. And the way you shut down the kids playing near the pony, Sue told me.”
“Better than shutting down a drill sergeant,” Austin deadpanned, and the three of them burst out laughing.
I stood frozen with a clipboard, warmth blooming in my chest. He wasn’t just numbers and shadows. He belonged here, just like me. I’d already decided to stay here long past the one-year mark. And for the first time, I let myself picture what it might mean if he stayed too.
My heart, traitorous as ever, pounded in my chest.
The rush ebbed slowly, like waves pulling back from the shore. One last dachshund tucked under Marium Sonnet’s arm, one last “thank you, Doc Milly” from a boy clutching a kitten, and then the fairground hall was suddenly big and empty.
Tables were sticky with lemonade rings and crumbs. Folding chairs sat crooked. It was perfect.
