Page 12
The truth is, I haven’t thought of one yet. Nic and Lauren don’t need to know that, though. I think it’s more fun for everyone if I keep them on their toes a while longer. Because if these two get bored? Oh boy.
The last time they were, the town square got a whole new flowerbed which, if you know about it, you’ll find was inspired by the visual of a vagina. Clitoris and all.
The two of them fall into bickering while I stare at my now-empty plate. Without a word, I shuffle back to Caleb’s counter to stare at his display case. I’m snackish for cookies. Through the mirror backing the counter, I watch Kylie get up to join me.
“Are you okay?” she asks me in a whisper and leans against the counter next to me, her blue eyes scanning my face with a worried expression.
“Yeah. All good.” I clear my throat. Her eyebrow disappears under her fringe, but ultimately, she nods and returns to the table.
I keep watching them from the table. Maybe one day I can tell them about being bi. Maybe I’ll even introduce them to Evan.
One day. When I’m brave enough.
Because if they started treating me differently too, I’m not sure if I’d be okay.
Chapter 3
Brooke
I skip along the sidewalk, humming, ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ feeling the wind in my hair and the sunshine on my face. Pete, a grumpy man who was probably already old by the time Kinstead was built, shoots me a murderous glance as I skip past him. But I ignore him. Nothing can bring down my mood today.
Famous last words.
"Hello, beautiful creatures!" I whisper-shout with a grin as I gently push the door to my shelter open.
By some stroke of luck, and my parents' contacts, I get to rent a house in the middle of Kinstead. Not only does it have the perfect location, right next to the main square and with every store I could need close by, it also comes with an insane amount of space. My shelter is on the ground level and my apartment on the upper floor.
Considering I was fresh out of university when I moved back to Kinstead and all I had to my name was a dream and a part-time job at the library, I’m blessed that my parents are well connected in the community and everyone in this town watched me grow up.
For example, Malena. The woman with the kind smile who goes on weekly hikes with my mother and also happens to be my landlady.
"Someone's in a good mood," Hannah, my best friend and part-time worker at my animal shelter, says with a grin. Today, her long, blonde hair is in two braids reaching down to the waist, right to where her red sweatshirt ends.
"Hell yes, I am." I hold up the stack of papers in my hand and fan myself with it, my grin so wide my cheeks hurt. "Guess who signed the purchase agreement for their dream sanctuary property less than an hour ago?"
Her jaw drops. Then both of us break into a high-pitched squeal, quickly joined by our two grey canaries in their cage chiming in.
Owning an animal sanctuary has been my dream since I was ten years old, and my parents fostered an injured cat. Opening this shelter was the first step, the most accessible way for me to help animals in need. However, considering how somehow, mostly old or traumatized animals find their way to me, a sanctuary just makes sense, and for once, my stars have aligned.
"Oh my God!" Hannah rounds the counter, already dancing excitedly.
"I still can't believe it.” I giggle and set the papers down on the reception counter. She takes my hands in hers, gives them a squeeze, and excitedly jumps up and down.
"This morning, I met with a lawyer, signed the agreement, and paid the deposit. Mrs. Bernard sent her donation for the property earlier, so I’ll get right on forwarding it to pay off the remaining balance. You’re looking at the survivor of a paperwork war with all kinds of people, but now," I pick up the paper stack and wave it through the air again. “The property is basically mine, and I still can’t believe it.”
I first met Mrs. Bernard when I worked at the library. She was one of the main donors and made sure to pop in whenever she was in the area to check if there was anything we needed, donate some of her books, or find one to take home.
She’s a wonderful woman, moving with the grace of royalty. Her grey hair is always in a perfect French twist, and I’ve never seen her in anything but a classy tailored suit, so perfect they scream ‘old money.’ Even though she’s in her seventies, she’s probably fitter than I am, and her posture makes it more than obvious she used to be a ballerina. You can’t help but feel like a slump next to her and the elegance streaming from her every pore.
We bonded over books and got to talking. On one rainy afternoon, I shared my dreams of opening a dog shelter with her – not knowing she had three rescue dogs herself, because she never brought them along.
Long story short, she offered to sponsor the initial costs of the shelter four years ago. And now, she offered to sponsor a property, so I could give old and traumatized animals not fit for adoption a loving home.
As much as I loathe depending on people, the offer was too good to pass on.
She’s an angel walking the earth. The universe’s way of looking out for me.
"Well then..." Hannah lifts her finger the same way I do when I ask one of our dogs to wait for their treat. She disappears into the makeshift kitchen and returns with a tray of cupcakes in one hand and two glasses of what I hope is cider in the other.
