Chapter 7
The Volunteer Vet Pop-up
Milly
In bold letters, I wrote “Vet Pop-Up!” on a pink sticky note and placed it on my mirror. Now it glared at me. I’d underlined it twice. Pulling my hair into something that was supposed to be a braid, ten minutes later, I was ready.
Three outfit changes later, I landed on jeans instead of scrubs. Scrubs seemed too stuffy, and slacks were impractical. I paired them with a scrub top for functionality and called it good. Pumpernickel’s cage sat by the door. I thought I’d take him with me just for show.
By the time I padded downstairs, I was humming under my breath to distract from the jackhammer of my heart. The kitchen smelled of coffee, dark and strong, and there he was: Austin, already at the counter, sleeves rolled up, pen tapping against a small notebook. His morning checklist, as always.
“You’re up early,” I said, aiming for casual. It came out squeaky.
He glanced up, and instead of the brisk nod I braced for, his mouth softened into something dangerously close to an actual smile. He slid a mug across the counter toward me. “Are you ready to wow them and show them what the real Milly Thomas is all about?”
I froze, halfway to the mug. Smiles from Austin thus far were rare creatures—more myth than reality.
And the way it tugged at the corners of his mouth…
my breath caught. His smile was quick, and I hated that it made me want to earn another one.
I hated it even more that I already had a list of ways to try.
“Wow them?” I repeated, gripping the mug with both hands to disguise the way my fingers shook. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“If anyone can,” he said, and this time there was no 'almost' about it—his smile was real, and quick as a spark. His confidence was reassuring. My heart responded like an idiot, all dance and thunder.
The look was over in a second, gone as if it had never happened, but it left my chest fluttering. My heart, traitorous thing, was already getting dangerously attached to Austin.
The Everwood Fairgrounds smelled like a mix of hay, fryer oil, and the last fair's cotton candy. A large barn loomed at the edge of the green, its wide double doors propped open to reveal neat rows of folding tables and bleachers stacked against the sides. Compared to the second choice of the open stables at Roster’s farm, the place looked reassuringly… containable.
“Indoor,” I sighed with relief, “That means fewer runaways,” I murmured to myself, clutching a crate of supplies and treats to my chest. “That’s already a win.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Austin said from behind me, his voice dry as he hefted two folding tables like they weighed nothing. He carried them inside, boots thudding against the packed dirt floor, and set them down.
Patients had already started arriving, even before the official opening.
A small line snaked along the wall: Ed Simmons with his limping beagle, two teens clutching a squealing crate that rattled ominously, and—most surprising of all—Dr. Samuels, the town’s aging vet.
He leaned on his cane, offered me a weathered smile, and said, “Figured it’s time someone younger carried the load.
” He tipped his hat in something that felt like a benediction.
The words hinted at futures I was afraid to dream of.
A clinic of my own, in a place that didn’t look at people like numbers and dollar signs, but saw them more like neighbors and friends.
My heart did a little tap dance before I stamped the dream back down.
Too early for dreaming, let’s get through today first and then see what happens next, I told myself.
By the time I turned back to the line, the crate the teens were holding started jerking to one side. Then the teen lost control of it and dropped the crate.
The latch popped open, and out burst a piglet—plump, pink, and as fast as a greased bullet.
“NO, NO, NO—” The teen cried out, tears springing to her eyes.
I lunged, missed, and skidded on the dirt floor. The piglet squealed in glee, ricocheting off a stack of chairs and bolting straight for the bleachers.
Before I could think, Austin was there, cutting off its path with a smooth pivot that would’ve made a linebacker jealous. The pig veered, squealing louder. I scrambled after it, my vet instincts taking over.
“Hey, hey, easy, little one,” I murmured, crouching low and holding my arms wide. My boots dug into the dirt as I moved slowly, herding it toward the corner, treats in hand. The pig hesitated, snorting, tiny hooves churning. “That’s it. You’re safe. Are you hungry?” I held out a treat.
The piglet froze just long enough for me to scoop it up.
Warm, wiggly weight tucked into my arms like a football, it let out a final squeal before going still.
My pulse hammered, and my braid slipped against my shoulder.
I did it. I’d wrangled the pig. In vet school, we grazed over farm animals and exotics like snakes and lizards, so pig wrangling was a little outside of my norm.
I looked up—and Austin was watching me. Not the piglet, not the chaos. Me. His mouth quirked as if he wanted to smile, but his eyes stayed sharp, taking in every detail.
I hugged the pig closer, my cheeks burning. “First patient checked in,” I managed, breathless.
“So,” Austin shrugged, “Should we get this party started?” He joked, handing me the clipboard.
A laugh bubbled out of me, and just like that, the tension broke.
I set the piglet back in its crate, checked the latch, and scrawled a new sticky note for my list, reminding me to have additional crates and pet pens on hand.
Austin leaned over my shoulder, close enough that the clean scent of his soap and the lingering smell of coffee clung to him.
His breath against my ear, tickling my skin.
My pulse jumped, and instinctively, as if he knew, he placed a hand on my shoulder, his thumb at the base of my neck—a reminder that he was there.
A tingle made its way through my pounding heart.
“Wise security precaution,” he murmured next to my ear, his voice low and rumbling.
My pulse jumped. My pen slipped, and the clipboard slipped from my grip.
Austin snatched it from mid-air and handed it to me, his hand over mine for a few seconds.
The small little world I’d built hiccupped, and just like that, a thought caught me off guard.
He’s rigid and simple, but I liked it. He was the yin to my chaos.
And for one crazy second, I thought maybe this clinic wasn’t the only thing about to get out of hand.
By the time the piglet was secured—and glaring at me through the crate, possibly plotting revenge—the moment was over when I saw the line had grown. Word traveled fast in Everwood.
Ed Simmons waved from the front, his beagle trotting at his side with a limp so theatrical it could’ve won awards.
Behind Dr. Samuels came Mrs. Whittaker with her Persian cat, carried like royalty in a wicker basket, and a pair of kids carrying a shoebox with air holes punched in the lid. The sound of frantic scratching hinted at something very unhappy inside.
I glanced at Austin. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching everything with that alert stillness he carried like second nature.
He was an enigma in my little world. I was whimsy, and he was rigid—polar opposites yet orbiting each other.
He was cataloging, assessing, studying the edges while I stood in the middle, surrounded by the chaos.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
“Not even close,” I whispered back, but my hands reached anyway for Ed’s beagle. The familiar weight of fur in my palms was more familiar to me than coffee ever could.
The clinic found its rhythm quickly—diagnosis and advice, gentle reassurance, a scribbled note about worming schedules. My nerves gave way to muscle memory and years of training. The fear from yesterday seemed laughable now that I was here and back in my element.
The shoebox, predictably, held a hamster with a small abrasion, most likely from a midnight adventure gone wrong. I soothed the children, checked the little guy over, and offered sunflower seeds as a consolation prize. They beamed as though I’d just saved a life. Maybe I had, in their world.
Austin didn’t hover. He stayed off to the side until he noticed something that needed attention.
I could feel him nearby, watching, his presence comfortable and familiar.
He slid an extra chair into place when Ed needed to sit, fixed a wobbling table leg with a multitool, and handed me a fresh roll of gauze just as I reached for one. He was always one step ahead.
At one point, I bent over the Persian cat, listening to its heart, when the pole from the pop-up sign shifted behind me.
Before I could react, Austin’s hand shot out, steadying the pole and keeping it upright.
I turned to fix the pole, but Austin was already on it.
He winked at me with a half-smirk before turning back to the pole and the fallen sign.
My pulse stuttered. The cat meowed, and I nearly forgot to breathe.
By mid-morning, the fairground hall smelled of coffee, hay, and lemon disinfectant. Sue Carter appeared with a thermos and a tray of muffins. “Figured you could use a snack,” she declared, slipping right into her matriarch role, ushering people, handing out paperwork, and keeping the line moving.
I scribbled notes between patients, each one adding to the last. Making notes in mock files until I could make official ones. This was better than working at the clinic on free checkup days that Nancy attempted to bring in clients and improve her numbers.
And every time I looked up, Austin was there, his quiet certainty a constant anchor.
I had doubted that Penny was right when I received the inheritance, but since moving here, I think maybe Penny had been right. Maybe I did belong here.
My pop-up table was already stacked high with patient files, forms, and a half-full treat jar. I’d barely wrangled the piglet crisis when Cassie appeared, plunking down a plate of cookies iced in neon blue with white sprinkles. “Don’t worry, they’re just cookies. Science club made them.”
I laughed, my shoulders loosening. “I’ll risk it.”
“Good. And I’ll be back after my tutoring session; today is ribosomes versus lysosomes.”
She pulled me into a quick hug, her curly hair tickling my cheek, then squeezed Austin’s arm on her way out. “Keep her hydrated, spreadsheet man. She runs on caffeine and chaos.”
Austin gave a small salute, deadpan. “Copy that.”
By the time Cassie slipped out again, the crowd had thickened. “Would you like some lemonade? I believe Sue brought some?” Austin asked as I reached for a water bottle to find it was empty.
“And if you want me on cleanup detail, just say the word,” Sue offered.
“Thank you, Sue.”
Sarah Baldwin, flanked by her fiancé Mason, came to offer help and see if we needed anything. Mason looked like he’d just stepped off a construction site, dust still clinging to his work boots.
“Good timing,” Sue said, pointing to a stack of trash bags. “Mason, dear, do you mind?” Mason grinned and shrugged, then ducked away to take out the trash.
Levi arrived last, wearing his firefighter tee. He nodded at Austin, then went off to help Mason with whatever Sue had them doing.
The fairground hum swelled: kids playing off near the back and out of the way, dogs yapping, someone trying to tie a pony to the rail out front. It was warm and bright and dizzying. And then, through the chaos, I caught sight of Austin.
He was standing with Mason and Levi, a little apart but not aloof. Mason cracked a joke about “rookie mistakes,” and Levi piled on with a chili cook-off story. For the first time since we landed in Everwood, Austin laughed—really laughed, head tilted, teeth flashing, the works.
The sound gave me butterflies.
Mason nudged him. “You military?”
“Was,” Austin said simply. Now it all made sense. His rigid demeanor, his attention to detail. It was all there. No wonder.
Levi grinned. “Explains the stance. And the way you shut down the kids playing near the pony, Sue told me.”
“Better than shutting down a drill sergeant,” Austin deadpanned, and the three of them burst out laughing.
I stood frozen with a clipboard, warmth blooming in my chest. He wasn’t just numbers and shadows. He belonged here, just like me. I’d already decided to stay here long past the one-year mark. And for the first time, I let myself picture what it might mean if he stayed too.
My heart, traitorous as ever, pounded in my chest.
The rush ebbed slowly, like waves pulling back from the shore. One last dachshund tucked under Marium Sonnet’s arm, one last “thank you, Doc Milly” from a boy clutching a kitten, and then the fairground hall was suddenly big and empty.
Tables were sticky with lemonade rings and crumbs. Folding chairs sat crooked. It was perfect.
I collapsed into a chair with a groan. “I want a cape for this.”
Austin’s shadow fell across me. He carried the last crate of supplies as easily as if it weighed nothing, setting it down with a thump. “I’ll fashion you one out of paper and duct tape.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Very official.”
Levi and Mason swung by on their way out, each grabbing an end of a folding table. Mason shot me a wink. “You’ve got half the town wrapped around your finger already.”
“Pretty sure it’s the muffins,” I said, but warmth bloomed in my chest anyway.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Levi added, nodding at Austin. “She ran a good ship. Even the donkey stayed mostly in line.”
Austin only tipped his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “Don’t I know it.” He winked at me.
By the time their trucks rumbled away, the hall was empty except for Austin and me. I packed the last crate half-heartedly, and Austin wordlessly took the bandages and ointment from my hand, finishing the job in neat, efficient order.
Mason and Levi had helped clean and stack the tables and chairs before they left, leaving the vet supplies to me.
Austin and I worked side by side, packing the truck and the last of the vet supplies.
Every move he made was measured and deliberate.
Typical military. Every time I tripped over my own feet, he was there catching me before I toppled over.
Finally, as we stood at the doorway, supplies packed, the last echo fading behind us, I blew a strand of hair from my forehead. “Not bad for a city vet, huh?”
Austin adjusted the strap of the supply bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. “You did more than not bad. I think you can say you wowed them.” Austin nudged me with his shoulder.
The words caught me off guard.
Something inside me went soft and shaky. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
So instead, I reached for the crate between us. My fingers brushed his. He let the touch linger for a beat, then smiled at me.
The moment stretched around us and accompanied us all the way home. My head was cautious, but my heart was already on team Austin.