Page 89 of Finders Keepers

I close my eyes, trying to let the warmth of the sun seep into my skin, but my mind won’t settle. The morning’s events keep cycling through my thoughts. The cold metal of the police station chairs, the scratch of pen on paper, the way my voice shook as I detailed every past bruise, every threat, every moment of terror. What if Matt finds out? What if he comes looking for us? What if the police can’t-

“Hey.” Gavin’s voice breaks through my spiral. “Where’d you go?”

I open my eyes, blinking against the sunlight. “Sorry, I just…” My hands twist in my lap. “Sometimes my thoughts get stuck on repeat, you know?”

“I do know.” He shifts beside me, his arm still steady around my shoulders. “Want to hear something not many people know about me?”

I turn to look at him, grateful for the distraction. “Yes.”

“When I first started vet school, I almost quit after my first surgery.” He gazes out over the wildflowers, a small smile playing at his lips. “My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the scalpel. Kept thinking about everything that could go wrong, how I could hurt the animal, how I wasn’t good enough.”

“What happened?”

“I threw up in the bathroom afterward. Then sat there for an hour, my mind spinning just like yours is now.” He looks at me, his eyes warm. “One of my professors found me. Instead of telling me to get it together, she shared her own story about her first surgery. Told me that sometimes our brains try to protect us by playing out every worst-case scenario.”

I lean into him. “How did you get past it?”

“She taught me this grounding technique. Want to try it?”

I nod.

“Okay, tell me five things you can see right now.”

“Um…” I scan the valley. “Lots of bluebonnets. That crooked oak tree. A ladybug. Your truck down by the gate. And…” I brush my fingers against his. “Your boots.”

“Good. Now four things you can feel.”

“The breeze. The sun. This rough rock beneath us. Your arm around me.”

“Three things you hear.”

I close my eyes. “Birds singing. That cow that just mooed. You’re breathing.”

“Two things you smell.”

“Flowers. And…” I breathe in. “Your cologne.”

“One thing you can taste.”

“The chamomile tea Ms. Lucy gave me earlier.”

“There you go.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Sometimes we just need to anchor ourselves in the present moment.”

The knot in my chest has loosened. “Your professor was smart.”

“She was. And you know what else she told me?” He turns to face me fully. “That being afraid doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. What matters is that you keep going anyway.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “Like you did with surgery?”

“Yeah. Now I can spay a cat without breaking a sweat.” He grins. “Though I still get nervous before trying new procedures. But that’s okay. It means I care about doing it right.”

Just like I care about doing right by Sophie. It’s that thought that steadies me further.

“Speaking of doing things right,” he says, checking his watch, “I should probably head home before heading to Ms. Lucy’s. Nugget’s been cooped up, and he gets pretty dramatic if he doesn’t get his potty breaks.”

I laugh, picturing his golden retriever’s puppy-dog eyes. “Dramatic how?”

“Last time I was late, he chewed a hole clean through my favorite boots and peed on the entryway runner. Dead center, like it was a message.” He shakes his head, half amused, half traumatized. “Pretty sure he was protesting me being gone too long.”

---