Page 8 of The Rabbit's Foot
Because Firsts, no matter the species, foster goodwill. They are the ones you can unload your burdens on.
“So anyway, the rabbit.” She sighed as her gaze darted over the paperwork. “I’ve never seen any animal with a will to live like he’s got. If I didn’t know better, I would say his body was trying to heal itself.”
She was way too close to the truth. “Of course that’s ridiculous.”
“Right. Ridiculous.”
Mal could hear the suspicion in her voice, so he veered off into a safer topic. “How much do I owe you?”
The doctor consulted her notes, then turned a sad gaze at Mal. “Right now, the bill is $2800, and that includes—”
Mal took out his wallet. “Doesn’t matter.” He pulled out three thousand. “Here.”
The vet’s eyes widened, but that didn’t stop her from reaching for the money. “I thought we’d have to haggle. Most people around here would never be able to afford a bill like this, let alone spend it for a rabbit. Let me get your change.”
“Nah, keep it. The rabbit might need something else, or you can use it to buy something for your daughter. She was really great, and I appreciate her getting me to you.”
“You’re… not leaving him, are you?” There was hurt in her voice. “I mean, I thought you’d—”
Nope. Mal had made him a promise, and he would never go back on his word. “No, I’m sticking around. At least for a while.”
Which was a bad idea, especially seeing as how the same sheriff the vet had threatened him with was actively looking for Mal.
“Where are you staying? We can contact you if there’s any change.”
And another fly in the ointment. “I’m not… I mean….” Shit. “I’m on my way through town. I only stopped to help the rabbit, but I need to be sure he’s okay before I go. I don’t have a phone, so can’t be reached that way.”
“Oh, I understand.” She pursed her lips. “Look, I have a friend who owns the motel in town. Why don’t I see if you can stay there? The rates are cheap, the rooms are clean, and if you’re going to be sticking around for a while, at least you’ll have a roof over your head.”
The idea did sound good. If the bunny got better, Mal didn’t want him sleeping in a dank cave. But there was that whole sheriff thing.
“I’m gonna be honest with you. When I was in the bar eating, there was a fight, and the bartender—”
“His name is Tad. He’s the owner’s son.”
“Okay. Tad. He told the cops that I was part of it, even though all I did was tell the people to sit down and shut the fuck—” He winced. “Sorry.”
“Please. Compared to Dinah, you’re practically a saint. Girl has a mouth on her that would make a sailor blush. As for the sheriff, don’t worry about him. He’s not a bad guy. You just tell him what happened. I’m sure he’ll listen. And from what I hear, the only reason he wants to talk to you is because you stopped the fight, and there’s a rumor that one of the boys that was in the bar is interested in finding out more about you.”
She winked, and all that tension that had been knotting in the base of Mal’s spine seeped out.
“I know we’re a small town, but I can promise you we’re not hicks. We have LGBTQ people, we have a throuple that owns the bed and breakfast, but they’re out at a convention right now, and we even have our own Pride parade. There’s usually six or seven of us marching, but more turn out for support. I admit, it’s a little strange, but we respect our people.”
The honesty in her words, raw and powerful, soaked into Mal. He’d kept his distance from humans unless it was for sex or for getting money from them. Dr. Hamilton wore her heart on her sleeve, and the fact that she was so open shamed Mal in a way he’d never experienced before.
“You should know, I’m not really a good guy. I’ve—”
“Rescued a bunny that most others would have walked by. You paid to have him taken care of. Tell me what part ofgooddoesn’t fit you.” She crossed her arms. “Go on. I’ll wait.”
Mal chuckled. “I hustle pool to make money so my bike has gas and I have food, and I can—”
She scowled. “You hustle pool?”
He nodded, and her sneer turned into a wide grin.
“Oh, you and I aresogonna play. Bring your wallet, because Mama needs a new pair of forceps.”
The conversation was too much for Mal. Too open. He was used to hiding, and Dr. Hamilton was dragging him into the light.
