Then there’s a soft click, and a moment later the fireplace hums to life, low flames catching behind glass.
I blink, my eyes drifting over of their own accord.
“Of course you have a remote fireplace,” I mutter.
He shrugs slightly, already halfway to the kitchen. “Came with the place.”
He starts opening cupboards, drawers, moving with easy familiarity. I watch him for a second, then look back down at Heath.
“It’s all right,” I murmur again, quieter now. “You’ve just had a bit of a moment. We all have those.”
He shifts slightly in my hands, still tense but not trying to escape.
I adjust my grip, cupping him a little more securely.
“You’ve picked a brilliant time for it,” I add under my breath. “Really excellent timing.”
Mark comes back with an armful of supplies. Kitchen roll, bin bags, something that looks like actual cleaning spray.
“Will this do?” he asks, setting it down beside me.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
He lingers for a second, then adds, “Didn’t have a box.”
“That’s fine. I’ll improvise.”
“I’ve got this, though.”
I look up.
He’s holding out a beanie. Dark grey, soft, worn enough to look like it’s actually comfortable.
I hesitate, glancing from the hat to Heath and back again.
“He might…” I trail off.
Mark follows the look, then meets my eyes.
“It’s fine,” he says. “If he has another accident, I’ll wash it.”
I hesitate for half a second longer because his easy certainty sends an entirely unreasonable flicker of excitement through me.
I give Heath’s little bottom one last wipe with the kitchen towel, take the beanie from Mark, pause for half a second, then lower Heath into it carefully.
He disappears into the soft fabric almost immediately, burrowing in like he’s been offered something he can trust. Only the faintest movement gives him away.
“Well,” I murmur. “That’s an improvement. Would you mind holding him whilst I clean this?” I’m worried if I put it down he’ll do a runner, poop all over Mark’s white wood and we end up trying to find a tiny hamster in a massive beach house instead of doing other… things.
Mark takes the beanie, instinctively cradling it against his chest, one hand curved lightly around it to keep it steady and support Heath.
It shouldn’t do anything.
It really shouldn’t.
And yet the sight of him standing there, holding my anxious, slightly traumatised hamster like it’s something worth protecting—
Right.
