Page 2 of Pack Scratch Fever
She tilts her head then, with a smug look on her face. “You’ve beenmessingwith your suppressants.”
I huff and swivel my chair to turn away from her. “So what if I have?” I peer through the glass window of the door to our cat playroom, purposely avoiding what I know is a set of daggers glaring right at me.
Blair always calls me out on my shit, and I doubt she’ll stop today.
My suppressants are what keep my Heat symptoms in check. Screwing with the dose or taking more than recommended just to put off a Heat longer risks some nasty side effects.
“Pipe, comeon,” she sighs as Alvin nuzzles his face into my neck. “Even the cat knows this is ridiculous.”
I stroke his fur, gathering the grey and white strands in my hands. He’s shedding, so I open the drawer next to the desk and pull out one of the brushes we have.
I still won’t look at Piper as I help Alvin rid himself of his coat. “Technically, I don’t need a Heat,” I murmur. “There’s no reason for one, scientifically.”
“Yeah, until you gush all over the walls like some demented water slide.”
I snort, and Alvin squints up at me. “I smell better to the cats,” I argue. “And it’s good for business. We can get more donations out of those annoying Alphas.”
Blair sighs. “Piper, if I have to deal with any more of those assholes?—”
The front door opens with the chime of an electronic bell, and Mari, one of our volunteers, pops in her head.
“Good morning!” she chirps, a massive cardboard box in her hand. “I brought some goodies!”
My eyes widen. She has to be holding at least five bags of cat food, along with a bundle of colorful cat toys.
“Mari, this issomuch,” Blair says. “You’re going to make them all fat.”
“There are always mouths to feed,” the older woman confirms, looking between us with clever grey eyes. “If it’s too much, I can always bring it to the other rescue that’s an hour from here.”
Alvin is already curious, leaping onto the counter to stick his nose into the box, and Mari pets him while cooing affectionately.
Every so often, I’m overwhelmed by the support we receive from the community. We’ve had to turn down donations in the past and send them to other rescues or charities because we were so full.
We’ve built an empire here. The entire county knows about us, and residents are being given the resources to trap and fix stray cats.
Luna County has become cat crazy, and I’m partially to blame.
“Thank you, Mari,” Blair says, taking the box and placing it outside the door to the cat room. “Do you want to say hi to the cats?”
“Of course!” she replies with delight. But she stays at the front of the counter, watching me with knowing eyes. “You know, Kyle was thinking about coming by today.”
I do my best to keep a straight face and stare intently at her floral periwinkle sweater.
“Oh?” I ask. I catch Blair biting her lip, doing her best not to laugh. “Your nephew has been coming over so much lately, he’s done more than enough.”
My poker face stays on, and I focus on counting the stitches of the tiny flowers on Mari’s clothing.
“You know, he was asking about you the other day. You know he graduated college in three years instead of four?” she says sweetly.
“Yes, you’ve told me that before,” I say, finally meeting Mari’s gaze, my mouth hurting from the fake smile.
“He makes good money, too. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, like you.”
I nod, and Blair turns to the computer and pretends to be engrossed in something.
Mari and I continue to make awkward eye contact, despite my internal panicking.
It’s not a big deal not to have a pack at twenty-six, or at least I don’t think it is.
