Page 30

"Well, first there's a body in Wayward Hollow, and now the main square here is on fire." He kicks an invisible rock on the road. "This worst to happen last year was, Nic's annoying ex turning up and being a persistent little shit."

"Who’s Nic?" I can’t focus. Who is he talking about?

"What? Oh, never mind, it's not important." I'm about to keep digging, if anything to distract myself, when one of the firemen approaches us. His name's Max and he used to be in my high school class.

"Hey, Brooke." He takes off his helmet and wipes sweat off his forehead.

"Max." I give him a friendly nod.

"Good news, your house is fine. We contained the fire to the square and extinguished it. However, with all the smoke it produced, I do recommend testing your shelter and apartment for smoke damage to make sure it’s harmless."

"Of course you do." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I suppose you don't have a smoke test kit handy by any chance."

He shakes his head, eyebrows creasing in a frown.

Of course he doesn’t.

I exhale a deep sigh. Calm down, Brooke. Evan puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze, but right now it makes me want to climb up a wall.

"Which means until it’s tested, I’m not leaving the animals here," I declare. Then I clear my throat. Will Henry answer the phone if I call him? Does he even have the equipment to test the animals for smoke inhalation? What kind of equipment would it even take? "Give me a second, guys."

Kieran's and Evan's worried gazes drill into the back of my head as I rush over to the shelter and tear the door open with fervor I’d definitely scold Evan for.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.

From the outside, everything appeared fine. However it reeks of smoke in here. And I can't even leave the door ajar or open any windows because it's even worse outside.

The most heartbreaking meows, whines, and chirps make me rush to the kennels in the back.

One dinner. I wanted one measly dinner with my family to relax and get myself into a more positive mindset.

One. Freaking. Dinner.

And now, so many sets of animal eyes are on me, and they're all scared out of their tiny, adorable minds.

"It's okay," I coo, quickly unlocking Mr. Muffin's cage and scoop him up. “Everything is fine.” His head cuddles into the crook of my neck, and I hug him to my chest. "Everything is okay, baby."

I lean back against the wall and slowly let myself slide down until my butt hits the ground. Mr. Muffin lets out a miserable little sound, and tears spring into my eyes. He nudges his nose against my chin and wiggles until he finds a more comfortable position.

"This is a clusterfuck," I whisper absentmindedly and stare at the blank wall opposite me. Now that I'm here and talking to them calmly, most of them slowly calm down.

What the hell am I going to do?

This morning, I had one problem. A giant problem, but only one, namely coming up with the funds for the sanctuary until Christmas. And now, within the blink of an eye, they have multiplied.

Worst case, I'm sure I could move back into my room at my parents' home. But what about the animals?

Sure, I could call around other shelters to ask for help and if they have space.

But when I checked in with them last week, they were all packed. And I doubt many adoptions happen around Thanksgiving. There's a shelter about an hour away from here, owned by Maya, a friend of mine from university. Maybe she has the capacity for at least some of them.

"Brooke."

My brother's voice appears at the front door, and then two pairs of heavy boots walk into my line of sight. I keep staring at the wall.

"Are you okay?"

“Yeah. I'm fine.” I get up, keeping Mr. Muffin cuddled to my chest.