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"I hate to say it, but he's right," Hannah mumbles. "What use is having the property if you can't get enough donations to feed the animals? Or pay property taxes? Or hire staff? Are you planning on running a several acre sanctuary all by yourself? Hello burn-out"

"What do you guys propose?" This conversation is giving me a headache, but it’s long overdue.

"I don’t know. Hire someone who knows their shit about marketing," Evan proposes, and taps his lip as he thinks.

"And someone who knows more about admin for charities than we do," Hannah suggests.

"Maybe Hudson knows someone. Let me ask him.” Evan pulls his phone out of his pocket and disappears into the hallway.

"But mainly someone for marketing," Hannah declares and nudges my shoulder. "You know, so we can reach people who want to donate to the cause or adopt one of our cuties."

I watch Luna attempt to play with Mr. Muffin, my heart heavy. "Do you really think anyone out there would want to adopt them? Future vet bills and all?"

Hannah puts her hand on my shoulder.

"I say this with so much love, Brooke, but... you own a goddamn shelter. To find loving new homes for your animals comes with the territory and should be a priority. I'm not saying give them to anyone based on gut feeling alone, but there will be a day that a family comes in here. Or a couple. Or one single person. And they'll fall in love with one of our cuties."

"I know." Absentmindedly, I rub my chest.

“Honestly, I was surprised you managed to give Gomez and Morticia away, but when you said it was your brother, it all made sense.”

"Why is that?"

"Because one, he's your brother. You trust him. And two, they're not gone from your life. You can go visit them whenever you want. Which wouldn't be the case if a stranger came in here and adopted Mr. Muffin."

I mull over her words for a while. She has a point. I’m not sure it leads my thoughts the way she tried to direct them, though. What if I’m not cut out to be a shelter owner? I put so much work into gaining the animals’ trust after the trauma they’ve been through, what if they see me letting someone adopt them as the ultimate betrayal?

"You're right." I let out a deep sigh and try to fight the wave of helplessness washing over me. "Maybe having an animal shelter isn't for me."

"You're a sanctuary, girlie." She smiles and pats my arm. "There’s nothing wrong with that."

"Does one exclude the other?"

"It doesn’t. Now stop it with the long face." She pokes my cheek until my lips curl into a smile. "We're going to make a proper action plan, and we’re going to rock this."

"You know, wild concept..." Evan returns, putting his phone back into his pocket. "But have you ever asked Kieran to sponsor the shelter or donate?"

"Nope." I run my fingers through my hair. "Don't have, and I have no intention to."

"Why?" He crosses his arms in front of his chest and sits down next to the rabbit enclosure. If he were Kieran, Daisy would immediately hop on his lap, but she doesn’t even glance his way. He's clearly not a favorite.

"You know, Kieran and I... we've been hanging out.” If you can call the sleepover at his place and meeting up in the giant supermarket ‘hanging out.’ However, the ice walls on my side have melted, and he never had any to begin with.

“I don’t want him to think I'm trying to be friends with him now because his money would come in a clutch.” Judging by his house, he must have a lot of it. But I couldn't bear the thought of him thinking I'm trying to use him.

"Fair point," Evan shrugs and puts his finger into the metal frame of Daisy’s enclosure, trying to beckon her closer. "But what you can ask him is to share a video for your shelter."

"Ha!" I point at Hannah. "Marketing. What you said."

"I mean, there's a little more to marketing than filming one video," Hannah points out, jaw tight. "What if his target group is women who live on the other side of the country? Or teenagers who hear about someone wanting to sacrifice Luna and Bean and think, ‘Hey, cool idea actually.’"

Fuck. Right. Marketing comes with exposure. What if it turns out to be the wrong kind?

"What if you guys made merchandise?" Evan proposes, giving up on getting into Daisy’s good graces. "Make the dogs your mascots and put their faces on some T-shirts. Let’s be so for real, you are never adopting those four out."

I stick out my tongue at him. How dare he call me out like this?

"Does selling merchandise even work for donations?" I lean back. “It’s probably a bureaucratic nightmare.”