Chapter 6
SIX
A sigh of relief escapes me as I sit before the cage at the clinic, carefully inspecting the bird’s wing as she hops around. She seems to be doing well, and she looks alert and happy.
But apprehension mingles with relief as I watch her, hoping I made the right decision. The surgery went well, and luckily the fracture wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, so she should heal and be perfectly able to fly again after rehab. And I keep reminding myself that even if I was the one to find her while out hiking, I would have done the same thing.
Even though, deep down, I know this isn’t just about saving the bird. For some reason… I did it for Arthur too. This guy who I don’t even know, at all. He just… he had that look when he handed her over, like his entire world rested on her small, fragile wings. If she doesn’t make it, I’ll feel like I let them both down. Rehab can be hard on birds this small, and the worst outcome could still be a possibility. If she doesn’t recover as expected, I’ll likely have to put her down.
I really fucking hope it doesn’t come to that.
I lean back in my chair with a sigh, letting my thoughts drift to yesterday when Arthur brought her in. That awkward redheaded guy with the intense green eyes, and his attention locked solely on the bird he brought in. He barely even looked at me, yet here I am, waiting eagerly for him to come by this morning.
My hand slips into my pocket and I pull out my phone, opening his website from the card he gave me.
Again.
The photography is stunning, and I can’t help myself as I keep going back to look at it. His photos don’t just capture wildlife, they embody the very essence of Newfoundland’s untamed beauty. There’s an eagle, mid-dive, with its talons outstretched as it catches a fish, with droplets of water suspended in the air around it like perfect glistening crystals. I scroll to the next photo of a moose by a rocky cliff with fog rolling off the ocean in the background. The mossy greens and muted greys give the image a calming, moody atmosphere that’s impossible to look away from. His work is breathtaking, and it’s no wonder he has clients like National Geographic , Ducks Unlimited , and more.
As I continue to scroll through his gallery, Neville grabs at my leg from the floor.
“Don’t even,” I mumble as I glance down at him, knowing he’s on to me. Because I’m getting just a bit too distracted by this random guy.
Neville climbs up beside me on the counter, curiously watching the bird as he sits next to the cage. He’s disappointed today though, because there’s no one around for him to visit. I reach out to give him a scratch behind his ear with a chuckle at how bothered he is that it’s just me and him here. He’s usually off gallivanting around the centre to flirt with all the girls, but on a Saturday with no animals, besides this bird, in for recovery or rehab, the vet techs don’t have to be in to monitor them.
Suddenly, Neville’s ears perk up, and I hear the clinic door open. My pulse quickens, and I shake my head at myself.
Jesus Christ… I need to chill out.
I push to my feet and head out to the small reception area where Arthur is standing, looking a bit uncomfortable as his gaze drifts around the room.
“Hey,” I greet him, and his eyes flicker to me, then quickly down again.
“Hey,” he says quietly, avoiding my gaze.
I give him a smile, even though he isn’t looking at me. “Come on in. She’s in the back.”
He perks up a bit as he follows me, and I lead him into the back of the clinic. But as soon as we reach the space, Arthur freezes, eyes wide as he stares at Neville, still sitting beside the cage.
Shit.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” I say quickly, rushing forward to scoop Neville up in my arms. “He’s friendly. He’s a pet, actually.” I chuckle awkwardly, trying to put Arthur at ease. “He likes to come here and hang out.”
He stares at Neville with a furrowed brow until he slowly shakes his head. “Newfoundland doesn’t have raccoons…”
“Yeah.” I chuckle again. “Neville here was a little stowaway on a ship from Nova Scotia when he was just a few days old. I think his mom probably had her litter in the ship and couldn’t get all her babies out in time before it left. They were going to send him back, but he needed care first, so…” I shrug, looking down at the little chubby weirdo in my arms. “Well, long story short, we became pretty tight. So I couldn’t let him go.” I rub him behind his ear and he playfully grabs at my hand. “Sir Neville is one special Newfoundland raccoon that lives quite a comfy and social life. He’s kind of a celebrity around here. ”
Arthur watches Neville for a moment longer, until his eyes lift to meet mine. “You saved him,” he says matter-of-factly.
I nod, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
His gaze then shifts to the bird, but mine lingers on him for just a moment longer as I take in his red shaggy hair and the glasses that weren’t there yesterday, but suit him so well.
But I quickly snap myself out of it.
“She’s doing great,” I say, turning back to the bird and setting Neville down on the counter, urging him to scurry away and keep himself busy. “Surgery was a breeze, and she’s been hopping around all morning munching on some seeds.”
Arthur fidgets with his backpack, and glances at me. “Can I… give her something?”
I nod with a gesture for him to go ahead.
He lets out a little smile and drops his backpack on the stool in front of him. And I smile widely as I watch him open it up and pull out a couple spruce branches. He gently opens the cage and sets them inside, arranging them so the bird can hop around and feel like she’s in a tree. His movements are confident and precise as he works, seeming to know exactly what she’d like.
“She might feel more at home now,” he says quietly, watching the bird hop under the branches.
“She definitely seems to approve,” I reply, both of us falling into a comfortable silence as we observe her.
After a moment, he turns to face me. “Thank you.”
I nod, noticing that he seems to be a bit more relaxed now. “You can hang out here for a while if you’d like. I’m just finishing up some notes from this week.”
His eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. I chuckle and gesture to a stool, which he pulls over to sit next to the bird’s cage. Neville makes his way across the counter again to join us, and Arthur eyes him warily. But he doesn’t seem too bothered or uncomfortable with him. And honestly, Neville is a fucking gentleman. So I’m not too worried.
I leave Arthur to enjoy his time with the bird as I make my way to the computer at the other side of the room. But, I end up pretending to work as I sneak glances at him any chance I can. The notes I’m half-heartedly typing could easily wait until Monday, but there’s something about watching him so at ease, gently observing the bird with a soft smile, that’s strangely captivating. Even in his interactions with Neville, there’s a tenderness and understanding, though I sense he’s still a little unsure around him. I have to stifle a laugh as I watch Arthur wordlessly push Neville’s stuffed bear back towards him after Neville nudges it his way.
He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met… or anyone I’ve ever been interested in. He’s awkward and reserved with me, but when it comes to animals, especially birds, there’s a certainty in him, and a quiet confidence. My eyes trace over his disheveled red hair, his glasses that sit perfectly on his nose and frame his bright green eyes, and the sharp line of his jaw. He’s attractive… but it’s so much more than that. There’s a quiet intensity about him, and the way he seems so attuned to the natural world keeps drawing me in.
I glance back at my screen and clear my throat. “I looked at your website.”
There’s a pause, and I peek up to see him watching me, so I give him a smile. “You’re really good.”
He fidgets a little as his fingers tug at his backpack strap. “Thank you.”
I start typing again, but then Arthur speaks up. “Why do you work at two clinics?”
A soft chuckle escapes me at the direct nature of his question, and I lean back in my chair. “I like the variety. Here at the conservation centre, I do wildlife rehab and research. And at the clinic in St. John’s, I see everything from the usual pets to exotic pets, like rabbits and birds. Keeps things interesting.”
His eyes dart around the room thoughtfully. “What research?”
“Right now, I’m involved in a project in caribou conservation, since their population is rapidly declining,” I say.
He tilts his head slightly, shifting on his stool to face me a bit more. “What do you do for that project?”
“We’re looking at a few different variables, aside from environmental factors and the impact of predators,” I explain. “I go out in the field and take samples and complete health checks so we can look at parasitology and overall herd health.”
Arthur’s brow furrows and he seems to get lost to his head for a moment. “So… it’s not just predators then?”
I hesitate for a moment, not quite sure how to answer that question this early in the project. “Possibly…” I say slowly. “There’s a good chance there’s something else contributing to their decline. That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”
He nods slowly, his eyes sliding back to the bird in the cage for a moment. But then they snap back to me. “But what if there is something else? And how long will it take to find out? Will the population decline even more during this project and impact your results? Then what if you’re not able to find out?”
Worry is etched over his features as he fidgets with his fingers, and I watch him for a moment, feeling the intense urgency in him.
“I’m not sure,” I say slowly. “We have a fair bit of data now, so I’m hoping we can get a bit closer to some answers soon.”
Arthur nods, dropping his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m… I like answers. I’m autistic so I get kinda… stuck sometimes… sorry.” He stands and picks up his ba ckpack, slinging it over his shoulder like he’s going to leave.
But I really don’t want him to, and a rush of empathy and a strong desire to reassure him flows through me.
“Come here,” I say, clicking out of my notes on the computer.
He eyes me curiously as I smile at him, gesturing to a chair beside me. But he cautiously walks over to me, backpack still slung over his shoulder.
When he’s standing next to me, I point to the computer screen. “This is the data we have so far from the project, and I need to review the blood work.” I look up at him, and he steps just a little closer as curiosity sparks in his eyes. “Want to join me?” I ask.
A smile spreads across his face, and mine immediately follows. He drops his backpack to the floor and takes the seat beside me, looking eager and excited.
And fucking adorable.
I angle the screen so we can both see it, and I start explaining the blood work data and the analysis I’m working on. Arthur fires off a million questions as we go, and I’m more than happy to answer every single one, geeking out alongside him over the work we do here.
And when Mike texts me, asking if I want to head out for a run in Quidi Vidi followed by an afternoon at the brewery, I don’t even hesitate to tell him I’m busy.
It’s the exact opposite of how I usually spend my Saturday, but… I’m not complaining.