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“Right.” I push back from the desk and stand.

The conference room still looks like a pet supply warehouse exploded.

An older volunteer named Gloria spots me from across the room and marches over.

“Oh honey,” she murmurs.

Before I can react, she wraps both arms around me.

I freeze before returning the hug.

“You shouldn't be worryin’ about this place right now,” she says.

I pull back enough to look at her. “I literally own it.”

“You know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I do. Everyone has been handling me carefully since the shooting. Mama. Jules. The volunteers. Even Agatha. They all look at me like I'm one bad moment away from breaking apart. I appreciate the concern, but I also hate it.

“I'm okay.” I give her a tight smile.

Gloria reaches up and pats my cheek. The look she gives me says she doesn't believe a word of it.

By late morning, the shelter has worked its way beneath my skin again. Dogs need feeding. Kennels need cleaning. Volunteers need guidance. A cat escaped into the laundry room. Life continues moving forward.

For a little while, I almost forget about the security detail. I step out of medical intake, carrying paperwork, and nearly walk straight into Luka.

“For heaven’s sake.”

He takes one step backward. “Sorry.”

I stare at him. “Were you standin’ there the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You were inside,” he answers.

I wait.

Luka waits too.

Finally, I throw one hand into the air. “You realize that's not an answer.”

“It is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The man somehow manages to look completely serious as he says it.

A volunteer carrying cat food walks between us. She glances at Luka, immediately decides she'd rather be somewhere else, and changes direction.

I point after her. “See?”

Luka watches the volunteer disappear down the hallway before looking back at me. “What?”