Page 74 of Not Mine to Rescue

A laugh huffed out. Weakness? I’d been one big bundle of weakness for a long time. That he hadn’t called me on it before this point meant I’d hidden it too well.

And the biggest piece of this was the void I stared into. The future was one big hole. Being a damn good lawyer and working for one of the best firms in the state couldn’t fill it. Maybe it might take up a handful of the emptiness, but I was afraid my career would be all I’d ever be.

Why couldn’t I be happy just being a damn good lawyer?

Because that’s not what you really want. You want more. You almost had more.

I quickly jotted a note to follow up on.

It read, talk to the therapist.

Chapter Nineteen

Wombat

The barn was open, again. I walked through the building, searching the empty stalls and checking on the feed. Nothing was missing. That was a relief, but weird. Little things like this had been happening since early February. It wasn’t malicious, just strange.

Out of habit, I scanned the rafters. Hoot’s hole had feathers piled up by it. He must have cleared out some of the molt from last fall. I climbed up the ladder to check on him.

He was such a quiet thing that most of the time I didn’t know if he’d taken off or was just hiding. It was almost a relief when he’d fly to me if I whistled at him.

But I was trying to wean him off that imprinting. He’d do better in the wild if he didn’t trust people. I approached the nest cautiously.

He poked his little head out and tooted at me. The short series notes was cute, but proof he hadn’t progressed at all.

“Dummy. You’re supposed to hide from me.” I started back down the ladder.

Of course, he took that as an invitation to land on my head.

“I swear to god, if you shit on me, I’ll⁠—”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Walt’s voice sounded below me. I didn’t dare turn my head to look for fear Hoot would fall off. Of course, he could fly, but it still wasn’t preferable to displace a sharp-toed predator from its perch. Especially when that perch was attached to my face.

“Hang on.” I wrapped an arm around the rung and used the free arm to move Hoot to my shoulder.

“What the fuck is that?”

Walt’s voice scared Hoot, and he fluttered into my face before taking off to the rafter above my head. From there, he scrambled along the beam until he had to fly around it to get to his hole.

“That’s an owl.” I climbed down the ladder and met him at the base.

“No fucking way is that an owl. It’s too small.”

I recited the latin name and the common name for good measure. “Look it up.” I’d had a shit day, sleepless night, and was still a little messed up because Honor had been avoiding my calls.

“Who shit in your cereal?”

“It’s kitten season.” While only one part of the reason for my attitude, it was a great answer.

He stared at me like I’d not spoken in English.

“Litters of kittens are born, abandoned, and dumped on the shelters. Most of them are sick. We’ve got twenty right now.”

“Aw… that’s cute. I like kittens.”

“Remind me to put you on butt detail.”

“What in the fucking hell is butt detail?”