Page 58 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

“Youknewthis could happen?” I asked him, bewilderment finally winning out over my terror.

He made a face. “Well. Not this in particular,” he said. “But strange things happen around the Carlyle boys—around shifters—all the time.”

I swallowed nervously. The wad of paper towel in my hand was trembling; I was trembling.

Vern’s expression relaxed into something like sympathy. “I suppose the question is what you want to do about it.”

I stared at the wall for a full minute, trying to wrap my brain around that. “I have a choice?”

It was practically a whisper. Vern’s expression soured. “’Course you do! Even if the law said you didn’t, you’d have a choice. There are … methods.”

I got the distinct impression he was talking about our status as veterinarians affording us access to drugs. Since those were supposed to be used for livestock, not many people would question it, I supposed. I grimaced at the thought of needing to resort to that.

Vern cleared his throat. “Anyway—it’s not like that here.”

I felt my shoulders relax a little. “It’s just … not how I was raised.” Not that I agreed with a lot of what I’d been taught, not now. I’d been raised to think abortion was wrong, but I’d also been taught to think being gay was a sin, and well, here I was.

I could have laughed. Dad had always told me being gay was wrong because it was against God’s wishes. God had told humanity to go forth and be fruitful and, well, gay people couldn’t do that.

Except I could. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “I’m not sure,” I told Vern in a shaking voice. “I … gotta think about it.”

“Understandable,” Vern said. “You need anything, you let me know, okay?”

I didn’t dare open my eyes. “Yeah. Okay.” I nodded timidly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Vern echoed. “Good. You, uh … wanna take the rest of the day off?”

I shook my head. “No.” If I took the day off, I’d do nothing butthink. And that was the last thing I wanted to do right then and there.

“You sure? You got patients and—”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, offering him a smile. “Help keep my mind off things.”

He gave me a tight smile. “Right. Okay, well. If it gets to be too much, you just holler? Right now, I gotta go back up to Roy’s. We gotta put this poor old stallion out to see if we can tend to his leg or if it’s the glue factory for him.”

I gasped. “Not the glue factory.”

Vern laughed as he headed to the door. “I’m joking—Roy wouldneverlet me do that to one of his horses, no matter how lame the old bugger was.”

I’d met Roy all of once, and he was all gruff exterior. I was having a hard time picturing him being such a bleeding heart that he wouldn’t put an animal down.

“Anyway,” Vern said, waving as he headed out the door of the exam room, “I gotta get back up there.”

“Vern,” I squeaked, then shrank back on the stool.

“Yeah, Wyatt?”

I hunched my shoulders. “You’re not … mad at me, are you?”

It was a stupid question, the kind of question a ten-year-old would ask a parent when they broke a window or burned dinner or something. Not a question a twenty-something man should ask his mentor. Or employer. Or whatever Vern was to me.

Vern’s expression softened into a smile, something that looked almost fond. “No, Wyatt,” he said gently. “I ain’t mad at you.”

Relief flooded through me, nearly toppling me off the stool. “Okay.” The word shook. “Great. T-thanks, Vern.”

His smile tightened, and then he stepped out of the exam room, closing the door softly.

We hadn’t spoken about it after that; it was late when he got back from Roy’s, and I’d been run off my feet with the clinic.Then I had to finish packing. All Vern had said to me over breakfast this morning was “good luck,” and then I’d been out on patient calls all day, while he was in the clinic. I hadn’t even dropped by the house to pick up my stuff; I’d had it packed in the car so I could head to the new house whenever I finished with my calls.