Chapter Twenty-Two:

Olivia swallowed, failed spectacularly to keep the heat out of her face, and managed a smile that was almost professional.

“I—I’m Olivia,” she said, standing a little too quickly. “I run the front desk. I can show you up to the roof—Richard, um, lives near the tower.”

The vet’s smile widened just a fraction, clearly enjoying this.

“Oh, I know where he is,” she said easily, already turning toward the stairs. “But I’d love the company.”

She took two steps, then glanced back over her shoulder, eyes bright.

“Not every day I get a sexy assistant helping wrangle my patient.”

And then she started up the stairs.

Olivia stared for half a heartbeat, brain completely blue-screened, before scrambling after her.

“W–wait! I should—uh—there’s usually a peace offering,” Olivia began as they climbed. “He gets territorial unless—”

The vet reached into her pack without breaking stride and pulled out a small insulated bag.

“I’ve got it covered.”

She opened it just enough for Olivia to see the contents.

“Plant-based nuggets,” she said. “Healthier for him. Less grease in his fur.”

“Oh,” Olivia said faintly. “Right. Of course.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Olivia automatically held out the packet of sauce she’d grabbed on instinct.

The vet took it—but slowly. Her fingers brushed Olivia’s, then lingered just long enough to make the contact unmistakable.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Then she stepped out onto the roof, Olivia following in a daze.

Richard noticed them immediately.

He reared up on his hind legs, hissing, spitting, froth forming at the corners of his mouth as he puffed himself up to look twice his actual size.

Olivia tensed, already preparing to intervene.

Then Richard saw her.

He froze.

Still upright, he lowered his arms. The hissing stopped. He reached up with one paw and wiped the foam from his mouth, suddenly looking… sheepish.

The vet burst out laughing.

“Oh, you big faker,” she said warmly. “Still pulling that routine? Come here and give me a hug.”

Richard hesitated for exactly one second.

Then he waddled forward and wrapped his stubby little arms around her leg.

She leaned down without hesitation and hugged him back, scratching behind his ears like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Olivia stood there, mouth slightly open, watching the station’s most infamous menace melt into a chastened, affectionate lump of raccoon.

“…I’ve nearly lost fingers to him,” Olivia said weakly.

The vet glanced up at her, still smiling, one hand resting comfortably on Richard’s head.

“Mm,” she said. “He knows better with me.”

Richard chuffed happily, tail flicking.

Olivia could only stare.

Whatever was happening to her body, her instincts, and possibly reality itself—

She was very sure this woman was not helping.

The vet moved with practiced ease, all confidence and economy of motion, and Olivia found herself impressed almost immediately. Richard was coaxed—somehow—onto a sturdy folding table near the tower, where he sat with exaggerated patience, chest puffed out, alternating between looking chastened and impossibly proud of himself.

“Good lad,” the vet murmured, unzipping her backpack.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up.

The pack unfolded like a magician’s trick, revealing far more medical equipment than should have fit inside: diagnostic tools, sealed packets, vials, bandages, a compact scanner, things Olivia recognized from first aid courses and a great many things she absolutely did not. It looked less like a vet’s kit and more like something you’d expect to see bolted into the side of an ambulance.

“All right,” the vet said cheerfully, snapping on gloves. “Let’s have a look at you, you menace.”

She kept up a steady stream of conversation with Richard as she worked—commentary on his weight, his coat, the scandalous amount of grease he’d clearly been stealing from somewhere he shouldn’t—while Richard preened under the attention, tail flicking, chin lifting obligingly when asked.

“Could you hand me the otoscope?” she asked suddenly.

Olivia blinked. “The… what?”

“Black handle, silver cone tip, second pouch on the left, tucked behind the pressure cuff,” the vet replied without even glancing up.

Olivia found it exactly where she said it would be.

“Oh,” she breathed, handing it over.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” the vet said absently, already peering into Richard’s ear.

Olivia nearly dropped the next instrument.

She stayed busy after that—very busy—grateful for the distraction of fetching tools, opening packets, holding things steady. The vet never hesitated, never broke her rhythm, narrating what she was doing to Richard as if he were an attentive medical student instead of a raccoon with a reputation.

Olivia very deliberately did not look too closely at the way the red leathers creaked when the vet leaned, or how competent hands moved with effortless certainty, or how utterly unfair it was that someone could be this skilled and this distracting at the same time.

What the hell is wrong with me? Olivia thought, face warm, heart thudding. Since when is this a thing?

She focused harder on the tools.

Very. Hard.

Still, the thought crept in uninvited and alarming:

If she didn’t get a handle on herself soon, she was going to end up climbing onto that table too—and not for medical reasons.

When they were finished, the vet handed the last of the tools back to Olivia without even looking.

“Just put them anywhere,” she said lightly. “They know where they belong.”

Sure enough, as Olivia turned to comply, the open backpack shifted—straps tightening, compartments flexing—and the tools seemed to settle themselves neatly back into place. Olivia decided she would unpack that particular impossibility later.

The vet turned her attention back to Richard, helping him down from the table with a firm but gentle hand. She produced the insulated bag of nuggets, handing it over with mock solemnity.

“Plant-based,” she reminded him, wagging a finger. “Better for your cholesterol. Same taste. No excuses.”

Richard sniffed suspiciously, then clutched the bag like it was treasure. He waddled a few feet away, sat squarely in the middle of the roof, and began his inspection ritual—sniff, dip in sauce, cautious nibble—glancing up between bites as if to say See? I’m trying.

Olivia watched, awe growing by the second.

This woman—this vet—had walked onto the station roof like it was just another Tuesday, treated its most notorious resident with competence and affection, and behaved as though extradimensional raccoons were simply part of the job. Mundane or not suddenly felt like the least relevant question in the universe.

The vet scribbled a few notes on a report form, then straightened—

—and immediately caught her boot on the edge of the table.

She tipped forward.

Olivia didn’t think.

She moved.

Three steps vanished beneath her feet in an instant, arms wrapping around the vet’s torso, catching her cleanly and pulling her back into balance. The contact was solid, warm, grounding—leather, heat, the faint antiseptic-and-ozone scent that seemed to cling to her.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Olivia became acutely aware of how close they were. How easy it would be to lean in just a fraction more. How badly she wanted to.

Then, impeccably timed as ever, Charles’s voice carried across the roof.

“So,” he called, stepping out from behind one of the garden trees, teacup in hand, grin unmistakable. “How’s our patient, Doctor?”

The vet didn’t pull away.

Instead, she smiled—slow and knowing—and looked straight into Olivia’s eyes.

“Quite healthy,” she said calmly. “Almost no undernourishment. Good weight. Strong upper limbs. Excellent reflexes.” A beat. “But until she lets me run bloodwork, I’d say she’s in the early stages of a beautiful unfolding.”

Olivia blinked. “Wait—what?”

The vet leaned in just enough that only Olivia could hear her next words.

“Doctor Lenora Myles,” she murmured. “At your service.”

She winked.

Then she kissed Olivia—firm, confident, unmistakably real.

Not long.Not chaste.Just enough to leave Olivia breathless and reeling.

When she pulled back, Lenora smiled again, entirely unapologetic.

“And don’t worry,” she added pleasantly, turning at last to Charles. “I’ll explain everything.”

Olivia stood frozen on the roof, heart pounding, mind racing, absolutely certain of one thing:

This was not just her period anymore.