Page 237 of Josephine and Clay

“Emergency supplies.”

“For livestock?”

“For stubborn young veterinarians growing two humans.”

I take it from him, because arguing would only prove his point. “That was very specific.”

“I’ve adapted to the local wildlife.”

I tear open the wrapper. “You’re becoming bossy.”

“I was always bossy. You were too busy pretending not to need anyone to notice.”

The words are gentle, but they land exactly where they’re meant to.

I glance away, watching sunlight stretch across the exam room floor. For so long, needing no one has been the only way I knew how to feel safe. It had never occurred to me that people might show up without demanding pieces of me in return.

Penny did.

The McCoy women did.

Dr. Harris has been doing it quietly for months.

And now Clay’s trying too.

That thought still feels too delicate to touch for long.

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my scrub pants before I can drift too far into my own head. I pull it out, expecting Penny, but Clay’s name lights up the screen.

Clay: Are you sitting down?

I blink.

Josie: That’s a concerning way to start a conversation.

Clay: Answer the question, Doc.

Josie: Yes.

Clay: Good. I have important news.

I glance at Dr. Harris, who’s pretending not to read over my shoulder with the subtlety of a man standing three feet away.

Josie: Did Nash buy matching saddles for unborn babies?

Clay: Worse.

Josie: I’m afraid to ask.

Clay: I read another article.

A laugh escapes before I can stop it.

Dr. Harris’s attention sharpens. “That sounded promising.”

“It’s Clay.”

“Ah.” His mouth curves. “Then promising may be generous.”