Page 46 of Lassoed Love

Surprises, huh? I contemplate the idea, my mind echoing with uncertainties. What if it’s just a distraction? What if I’m not ready for something new? The prospect of the unknown both excites and terrifies me.

Imogen, her gaze steady, says, “You’re not signing a contract, Isla. It’s just one date. You’ll figure things out along the way. Don’t let hatred or fear hold you back from potential happiness.”She’s starting to sound like him.

“I know, I know.” I sigh.

Potentialhappiness. The words linger in my mind, and I wonder if I’m brave enough to take that step. Closing my eyes, I take a deepbreath, exhaling the lingering doubts. Maybe it’s time to embrace the unexpected, to step into the unknown.

“Look,” Imogen’s voice breaks through my thoughts, “whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Whether it’s a wild adventure or a quiet night in, I’ve got your back.”

Her words resonate with comfort, and a small smile plays on my lips. Maybe it’s time to see where this crazy ride takes me.

Imogen left not long after that, two glasses down and feeling a slight buzz—leaving me with a sense of contentment and introspection. The weight of the night's revelations lingers in the air, a mix of excitement and uncertainty dancing in the room.

As I lay in bed, my phone dings from beside me, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. Seeing David's name light up the screen sends a shiver of anxiety through my body. The anticipation of his response to my earlier message tightens my chest.

Unfinished business?I scoff inwardly. My fingers tap out a response.

Yeah right, who am I trying to convince,him or me?

His instant reply throws me off.The way he was looking at me?What does he mean? Confusion swirls within me, adding another layer of complexity to an already tangled situation. I recall Xavier’s words, how he had counted every single freckle on my face, how he knew my favourite subjects and pastimes.Was he always that perceptive?I gently touch my cheeks, grazing over where my freckles would be. Thirteen?Do I have thirteen?

I’m stunned by the fact that he noticed such a detail. When would he have taken the time to notice? It’s a strange mix of flattery and discomfort, knowing that someone has paid such close attention to me. The drama I hoped to leave behind in the city seems to have followed me back, weaving itself into the fabric of my small-town life.

This was not part of the plan.

20

Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

The sun beats down relentlessly, and the air outside today feels akin to the blast when you open the door of a preheated oven. Welcome to Spring in Australia, where a mere two metres of walking is enough to trigger a cascade of sweat. And don’t even get me started on the flies—persistent little buggers that seem to have a personal vendetta.

It’s just been Katy and me holding down the fort today; Molly’s been neck-deep in her exam prep for her upcoming prelims. The day has been slow, typical for a small-town clinic, especially on a Monday. However, amidst the routine, we’ve become an unintentional halfway house for furry friends.

The hospital wasn’t designed for animal sheltering, yet over the past few months now, we’ve gathered a few stray animals. Katy has been fostering Henry, our charming Italian Greyhound, and just recently, we welcomed a new addition—a timid Australian Kelpie, around five years old, with a brown and tan coloured coat.

I spotted her on my way to work one day, lingering near the hospital. Malnourished and scared, her frail frame revealeda harsh history of neglect. Slowly, I earned her trust, bringing her into the clinic one afternoon. She’s now our new resident fur baby, seeking shelter here, who Katy and I affectionately named Luna. She’s been responding well to the care, her once fearful eyes now brightening with trust.

It breaks my heart seeing these dogs without permanent homes. We’ve put up signs and ads, hoping for foster parents or, better yet, adoptive families. Katy helps occasionally, but my apartment can’t handle one small dog, let alone two—my landlord might revolt.

So, we patiently wait for someone to step forward, offering a forever home for these beautiful dogs.

For now, they’re our little companions at Wattle Creek Veterinary Hospital, with makeshift pens for cosy nights. We’re here to keep them company and provide daily care, hopeful for the day they find their permanent homes.

The morning started with a bit of a rush—handling the aftermath of a daring cat’s encounter with a prickly cactus. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of the disgruntled feline, a reminder that even our four-legged friends can't resist the allure of a plant adventure.

Guess it’s not just dogs who find creative ways to keep us on our toes.After that, it’s been a steady stream of routine check-ups and minor procedures and just about an hour ago—an elderly Golden Retriever named Max who desperately needed dental cleaning. It's a procedure I'm well-versed in, having tackled it many times before.

We’ve also recently had a trio of mischievous kittens who've become the clinic's temporary mascots, testing the limitsof our patience with their playful antics. Fast forward to the present, just after lunch, and the clinic has settled into a calm rhythm. The events of the morning linger like echoes in the background as hunger begins to nudge its way into my consciousness. I glance over at Katy, who sits at the reception desk, glasses on, staring intently at the computer screen.

“Hey, Katy, feeling a bit peckish. How about I grab us some lunch from the chicken shop down the road? Craving anything specific?” I suggest, the thought of crispy fried goodness already makes my mouth water.

Katy glances at me, an unreadable expression in her eyes, as if she’s harbouring some secret amusement. “What?” I prod, my curiosity instantly ignited.

“Maybe hold off on grabbing food. I have a feeling we might have another patient coming in soon,” Katy replies cryptically, her tone almost overly cheerful.

“Another patient?” I question, perplexed. “There’s nothing scheduled on my planner for the rest of the afternoon. Did someone just call in?” I press for more information, sensing Katy’s unusual chipper demeanour.

“Not just now, but earlier, something about a chicken or hen... or whatever. Couldn’t quite decipher them over the phone, but they said they’d be waltzing in around…” Katy glances at the clock, squinting at the time, “now, actually.”

---