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“Not a problem.” Theodore winced internally. He shouldn’t be doing this, giving orders as if he were going to stick around … “How’s our mutt doing?”

“She’s awake but groggy. I’ve been checking vitals regularly, and she’s stable. Also, Big Poppa, the cat from the colony, well, he hasn’t been claimed for adoption yet, but it seems like he’s bonded with our mutt. He slept next to her all night and kept licking her ears.”

Theodore paused to appreciate how utterly delightful that mental image was. “That’s a good sign. I’ll try to make it in later today … Something came up.” Theodore glanced at the door, apprehension wriggling in his stomach.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone here is fine, and I am A-okay staying till Tuesday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup, besides, Margarette usually comes in to do bookkeeping when the clinic is closed. Take your time, you probably still have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“Thanks, Gerald. I’ll try to make it in, but please call me if you need anything.”

“Sure thing, Doc. Now go get yourself settled in so you can stay at Elk Cove. Between you and me, it’s nice having another professional omega around.”

Theodore hung up as a wistful smile pulled at his lips before he hung his head, staring at his hands. Melancholy filled his heart. He wasn’t staying in Elk Cove. He couldn’t.

Chapter twelve

Royce

Faint orange light was illuminating dark gray skies when he heard Dr. Abbott make a phone call in his room. Once he’d established, via eavesdropping, Doc was alright and not hatching an escape plan, Royce went to his neighbor’s door.

He did something he’d never done before; he knocked on the red front door to ask a favor. Sandy opened it, her face blanched for a moment before a smug smile spread across her face, and she leaned against the doorjamb.

“Well, well, look who it is.”

“What’s going on?” Evea called from inside.

“It’s our neighbor.”

“Renay?”

“Nope.”

“Buford?”

“Nope.”

Evea’s long figure appeared behind Sandy, holding a cereal bowl. She gave a shit-eating grin before leaning against the other side of the door frame. “Well, call me a biscuit and butter my buns. It’s Royce! When the hell was the last time we saw you?”

“Was it the New Year’s party we invited him to, that he didn’t show up for?” Sandy asked.

“No. Maybe it was the North American Union Day cookout we invited him to that he didn’t show up for?”

“No, maybe it was when Buford invited everyone over to test his new pizza oven, and he was the only no-show?” Sandy asked.

“No. Was it the Founders’ Day party we invited him—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Royce cut them off. The two bobcat shifters were clearly enjoying themselves and were likely to drone on. He hadn’t attended any events in over a year; he didn’t see the point when he didn’t have friends. Nothing in life was permanent after all. “I’m anti-social, you made your point. I, umm, kinda am in a jam and was wondering if you could help.”

The two women smirked at him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to date instead of searching for fated mates. Sandy and Evea were one such example.

“Oh … does this have anything to do with the faint aroma of omega coming from your place?” Sandy asked.

“O.M.G. Spill the tea,” Evea said around a mouthful of cereal.

“He, umm … doesn’t eat meat. And I have nothing to feed him,” Royce admitted.