Page 59 of The Grumpy Vet
I sink further into the couch in the staff lounge, let out a sigh, and look around the empty space. It's weird being in here on my own. It's only happened a handful of times in the past five and a half months. I miss the sounds of Wilby chewing and burpingand being an all-round disgusting pig as he inhales food, or Fitz and Muir laughing away as they brainstorm TikTok ideas.
But most of all, I miss the incidental times Linus and Ryde are in here at the same time with me. A rare gap in our otherwise hectic days that gives us the gift of getting to spend a few more precious minutes together.
Minutes that are ticking by and dwindling as the countdown to my departure gets closer and closer.
Maybe that's the reason why no one has dared to break the greatI love youdivide. Before we make any grand declarations, shouldn't we first figure out that the hell we're doing?I love youfollowed bygoodbye, it's been a great six monthsseems like it would be the worst kind of torture. To come so close to finding your people, to be right there on the brink of having something so great, so amazing, only to have it snatched away. That's fucking cruel.
It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Nah. Fuck that shit. Nothing is worse than a broken heart, and my poor fucking heart is going to shatter into a million pieces when I leave.
IfI leave.
"You look constipated, mate," Wilby announces, bounding into the staff lounge, causing me to jolt in fright. "Was it one of Mrs. Mangle's lamb pies? Heard there was a bad batch earlier in the week. Apparently, Davo hasn't been able to push out a turd in days."
"I am not constipated, thank you very much," I say, loosening my frown, unclenching my jaw, and trying desperately not to let that mental image of Davo sink in. I have to pay him a visit tomorrow to check on his horses.
"So what is it then?" he asks, swinging the fridge door wide open, lifting out a container that hasFITZ'S LUNCH, HANDS OFF, WILBYscrawled across the lid so large I can see it fromall the way over here, and helping himself to a few bites of a sandwich. "Wait. Is it the other thing?"
"What other thing?"
He rolls his eyes, tosses the container back into the fridge, stomps over to me, and crashes down onto the sofa. "The you, Ryde, and Linus thing. What else?"
What else indeed?
"Yeah. It's that," I sigh.
"What about it specifically? And if it helps in any way for you to get into very explicit, very X-rated sexual details…I'm all ears."
I turn to face him grinning that annoying goofy grin of his. It's impossible to be mad at the guy because even though he can be annoying as fuck at times, he cares. All the guys do. That's why they've been taking on extra shifts, giving the three of us more time to spend together. It's heartwarming that people who were complete strangers less than six months ago feel like family now.
"My contract is up in two weeks," I tell him.
"Mate, Linus will extend it in a heartbeat. In case you've had your head too far up his or Ryde's arses—which at this point, is highly likely—and haven't noticed, we are flat strapped around here. He'd want you to stay for no other reason than we are chronically short-staffed."
I shuffle uncomfortably. "It's not that simple."
"Actually, it is. Just stay. If I could convince someone to give up New York with all of its glitz and glamour, surely you're not dying to get back to Blowend. No offense."
"None taken."
A gap of silence opens up. Wilby narrows his eyes. "What am I missing?"
I pick at a loose thread on my T-shirt. "It's stupid."
He spreads his arms over the back of the couch and flashes a wide smile "You're talking to the king of stupid. Lay it on me."
"You have a point," I concede with a smile of my own. "It's going to sound silly, but…" Ugh, I can't believe I'm about to admit this out loud. "Neither one of them has actually asked me to stay."
Yep, it sounds just as pathetic as the million times I've thought it.
I glance over at Wilby, expecting to be hit with a joke or some sort of teasing about how I'm being completely immature and how this is so high school, which, I can admit it is. But I also can't help it. This is how I feel.
But instead, Wilby surprises me with, "I think I get it."
"You do?"
He nods, his man bun loosening a little.
"We all want to feel wanted. Having them ask you to stay would be validating." His eyes meet mine. "Am I on the right track?"
