I'm glad to step out of the sun and into the monkey tent. Pip and Squeak chatter from the rafters the second the canvas drops behind us, and Peanut—curled intoa fleece-lined basket on a folding table—lifts his small head and blinks at me with sleepy interest.
“Hi, baby,” I murmur, setting the kit down. “Look at you. Sitting up like a person.”
Peanut chirps.
I crouch and get the syringe ready. Rowe stays back, hands in his pockets, watching me work.
“Can you hold him for me?” I ask without looking up. “Just like yesterday. Side to me.”
“Yeah.”
He steps forward, scoops Peanut into the crook of his elbow with a tenderness that makes my heart stutter and turns so the capuchin's flank is presented to me.
I work fast—pinch the skin, slide the needle in, depress the plunger, withdraw. Then I press my thumb against the spot until I'm sure there's no more blood.
“Good boy,” I tell Peanut, who didn't even flinch. “Good, good boy.”
I cap the syringe, drop it in the sharps bin in my kit, then reach for the swab to wipe down the injection site. That's when I notice my hand is shaking.
It's not a lot, but it's there. I steady it against the table edge and surreptitiously take a calming breath.
When I look up, Rowe is watching me.
Not Peanut. Me.
“What's wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I answer too quickly.
“Wren.”
The way he says my name does something to my knees. I focus on Peanut, stroking my thumb over the fur of his temple.
“Long morning,” I say. The rehearsed line. “I'm fine.”
“You're not,” he counters.
“Iam.”
“You're shaking.”
I curl the offending hand into a fist on the table.
“It's nothing. I'm fine. I—” My throat closes. I clear it. “Maybe I should check on the others while I'm out here. If that's alright.”
He doesn't move for a beat. Then he settles Peanut back into the fleece basket with the same care he used to pick him up and straightens.
“Wren.”
“Please don't.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and they sound rawer than I meant. I press my lips together.
He goes still.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “We can check the others.”
He turns toward the flap. I follow, gathering the kit, blinking hard because my vision's getting blurry.
