Page 23 of The Knotheads Next Door
She shakes her head stubbornly. "He needs feeding every two hours. I'll just sleep here." She gestures to the couch.
"That's ridiculous," Jasper cuts in. "You'll be exhausted tomorrow. We can take shifts."
Both Rowan and I turn to stare at him, surprised by the offer.
"What?" he grumbles. "I'm not heartless. And none of us will get any sleep if she's stumbling around every two hours."
"I'll take the first watch," I volunteer, touched by Jasper's gruff concern, even if he'd deny it was concern at all.
"Rowan, you sleep until 2 AM, then I'll wake you for the next feeding. Jasper can take 4 AM, and Wells can handle 6 AM before work."
Wells looks like he might protest, but one glance at Rowan's exhausted face and he simply nods.
"Fine," Rowan agrees, though she looks reluctant to leave Gerald's side. "But wake me if anything changes. If he seems worse, or if he won't eat, or—"
"I'm literally a veterinarian," I remind her gently. "He's in good hands."
She blushes slightly. "Right. Of course." She leans down to check Gerald one more time, her fingers gentle as she adjusts his tiny blanket. "Goodnight, little fighter," she whispers. "Sleep well."
She drags herself to the couch instead of going upstairs, clearly unwilling to be too far from her charge. Within minutes, she's fast asleep, curled on her side with one hand dangling toward Gerald's box on the floor.
Jasper and Wells head upstairs, leaving me to my watch. But before he goes, Jasper pauses, looking back at Rowan's sleeping form.
"She really cares about that thing," he says quietly.
"Gerald," I correct automatically. "And yes, she does."
He nods, still watching her. "It's going to break her heart when we have to find him a home."
I hadn't thought of that. "Maybe we could—"
"No," he cuts me off. "We're not keeping a cat, Theo."
He turns and heads upstairs before I can argue. But I notice he didn't sound quite as adamant as he did earlier.
Around 1 AM, Gerald starts to fuss. I prepare a bottle, but before I can wake Rowan, she stirs on her own, maternal instincts apparently tuned to his tiny cries.
"I've got it," she mumbles, already reaching for him.
"Go back to sleep," I whisper. "I can handle this feeding."
But she's already sitting up, her hair a mess, eyes soft with sleep. "We'll do it together."
So, we do. And when Gerald is fed and settled again, Rowan doesn't go back to the couch. Instead, she curls up on the floor next to his box, one hand resting lightly on its edge. Within moments, she's asleep again.
I should wake her, tell her to go back to the couch. But there's something about the picture she makes—this fierce, defensive woman curled protectively around a creature that needs her—that makes my throat tight.
Instead, I grab a blanket from the closet and gently drape it over her. As I do, I catch that sweet note in her scent again, stronger now that she's sleeping and her guard is down.
It's a dangerous thought, but I can't help wondering what she'd smell like without the blockers. What she'd smell like if she fully presented.
I shake the thought away and settle back in my chair to watch over both of them until Jasper's shift. But somehow, I can't tear my eyes away from Rowan's sleeping face, peaceful in a way I've never seen it before.
Gerald Resilient Whitley may be the official rescue of the night, but I'm starting to think Rowan might be saving all of us in ways we don't even understand yet.
Chapter 8
Wells
