After a second, I ask, “How’d you end up with it?”
She turns a little on the sofa, angling more toward me as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“I started as a volunteer,” she says. “Same as Jules. Just came in to help where I could.” A small breath leaves her. “That’s when I met Miss Eleanor. She owned the place back then and ran it for years.”
Her eyes warm at the memory.
“She was gettin’ older and wanted to retire, but she couldn’t just hand it over to anybody. So, she started showin’ me everything, little by little.” Her fingers trace the edge of her glass. “One day she handed me the keys and said she was ready to step away and wanted me to take it.”
“You said yes.”
She smiles. “Didn’t even think about sayin’ no.” Her eyes lift to mine, softer but certain. “I love those animals too much to leave them. Feels like if I don’t fight for them, who will?”
There’s no doubt in it.
“It’s not just a job,” she adds. “It’s mine. And I’m gonna save as many as I can.”
I believe her.
“What about you?” she asks after a moment. “Your parents.”
I reach for the bottle on the table and refill her glass without asking, then set it back before leaning into the sofa.
“My father built what we have. My brother expanded it.”
“And you?” she asks, tipping her glass slightly toward me.
“I made it mine.”
She watches me over the rim of her glass, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, that sounds nice and vague.”
“It works.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes brighten with amusement. “I’m guessin’ there’s a whole lot more to it than that.”
“There is,” I say, my attention staying on her as I take a slow drink.
She tilts her head, studying me now, not backing off. “Shipping, right?”
“Yes.”
“What does that actually mean? Because I feel like that could mean just about anything comin’ from you.”
“It means I decide what moves. When it moves. And who it moves for.”
She turns fully toward me on the sofa, her knee brushing closer to mine as she takes that in.
“Well,” she murmurs, a smile on her lips, “that’s not vague at all.”
“No,” I say, focused on her.
She’s closer now, her knee brushing mine like she doesn’t realize it. It seems she’s trying to figure me out instead of keeping herdistance. She lets out a slow breath, her fingers sliding along the stem of her glass before she sets it down on the table.
“I should probably go,” she says, almost reluctantly. “Gotta be up before the sun. Shelter doesn’t wait on anybody.”
“I’ll take you.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Okay.”
