Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Rhys
My veterinary practice is my happy place. Home is where I relax; here is where I thrive. Home is where I rest. Here is where I am in control.
Predictable problems. Solvable outcomes. Lives I can fix instead of ending.
As long as there is order and routine in the chaos.
There has always been routine and order in the chaos. Now there is him. Disruptive. Unscheduled. Unmanageable.
Noah.
He is here. Dressed in his work clothes. Not because it is practical, but because it's all he owns.
Noah stands awkwardly near the reception desk, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn trousers. Trying to make himself smaller or less noticeable. It doesn’t work.
“Noah, I'd like you to shadow Tree today.”
“Tree?”
“It's her name. Tree. Short for Teresa. She's floating today, so she will help in all areas of the practice. You can decide if you want to try nursing yourself.” That should stop him from standing and looking at me. It won’t.
But it might make it easier to pretend I’m not watching him too.
The trouble is, now I'm standing and watching him.
I am a very busy man. Consultations, surgery, emails to check. Not watching a young man whose only skill is an obsessive love of puppies. And yet my attention keeps circling back.
Like he’s the variable I haven’t accounted for.
“His uniform should arrive soon.” Martha, the office manager, steps up beside me with a coffee extended in her hand.
“Uniform?” I was thinking about getting him better clothes, but I said nothing to her about it. I don’t need to. People anticipate what I want.
“Oh, I assumed the producer spoke to you about it before he asked. He wants Noah in scrubs or something… better.” She gestures at the tears in his hoodie with her hand.
“You’re one step ahead of me.” I nod approvingly. He will look so much better when he is wearing decent clothes.
Something fitted around his ass would make him look taller and slimmer. Something fitted would sharpen his lines. Define what’s already there.
Make him… harder to ignore.
Noah turns, catches my eye, and smirks. It's like he knows exactly what I am thinking. He shouldn’t.
I've barely finished the coffee when the package arrives. This isn't the usual three-day service they offer; this is next-day delivery. This is paid for by their name appearing in the Follow the Vet credits. Everything has a transaction. Even kindness.
“Noah.” I start forward with the package. “Your uniform is here. I hope it's the right size.”
Of course it's the right size; the production team has an expert in hair and makeup. Lola. She can size someone up from across the room and keeps a small supply for days when we want to film someone who isn't dressed for the occasion.
“Oh, wow.” Noah seems to appreciate the uniform. “Are these really for me?”
He runs the mint green fabric between his fingers as if it might disappear, or he thinks it isn’t something he’s allowed to keep.
“They're just scrubs. The women's tunics are much more practical, but yes, your student nurse uniform.” The word lands heavier than I expect. I’ve already decided this for him.
“You know I haven't decided yet.”
“I know.” That's why I hadn't ordered him anything yet.
“Thank you,” he beams at me. “Can I try it on now?”
“Of course.”
He scampers off, clutching more than one set, but he seems happy.
“How is he doing?” I call out to Tree, marching over with my empty mugs.
“Well, I can't fault his enthusiasm.” She smiles. “He's polite and eager, and he actually knows more than Chloe.”
I know. It makes him useful. Trainable.
“Too many episodes of Follow the Vet.” I say it with a chuckle, but a brief worry follows. He knew me by my voice. That's stalker-level obsession.
Or survival. Learning about the person who holds power over you.
It would be just my luck to have kidnapped a stalker and inserted him firmly in the center of my life.
“He flinches a lot. If he gets something wrong, he reacts like he expects to be slapped or something. Nothing dramatic, just a little. You know what I mean?”
“I do.” I’ve seen it before. And here was me thinking he just did it with me because he knew.
“I don't think it was just the dogs suffering in that place.” Some wounds don't show up on scans. Some never heal properly.
At that moment, he steps out of the staff room, smoothing down his scrubs with a nervous action.
I can't help but smile at the change. It’s immediate…
disturbingly so. He's still a nervous little mouse, but now he doesn't look like a beggar. And the scrub pants make his butt look much better. They give him some shape. I approve. The transformation is immediate. He suddenly looks as if he belongs here. Like he’s always been here.
Like I’ve been missing something without realizing it.
He gives me a coy smile and then a little twirl. The scrub pants hang perfectly on his hips. He shouldn’t move like that in front of me. Not without understanding what it does.
“Very nice,” I give him the compliment he seems to need. “What's stopping you from committing? Tree sings your praises.” I keep my tone neutral, but the question isn’t.
“I'm… well…” he fumbles for a reason to say no. Searching for something that won’t offend me. “I don't want to get in your way.” His voice drops slightly when he says it.
“None of my other nurses are in my way.”
“None of your other nurses are living in your home.”
“We can fix that in time.” I smile too quickly, too certainly. I refraining from telling him about the nurses' accommodation upstairs. He's a guy; the live-in nurses are women; it wouldn't be right. He's better off staying at my place. Safer. Contained. Where I can see him.
“I’ve really enjoyed my morning. Tree is great, and this place is so organized.”
“Talk to the office manager; she'll go over all the important employment stuff.”
There. Now he can stop hedging his bets. I need him to stay so I can keep an eye on him. I tell myself it's caution.
Nothing more. I don’t question why that feels like a lie.