Page 17 of Hunt Me

“No.” I shake my head, cutting him off. The smells in here are still a lot, but I’m less overwhelmed now, and my tongue has started to unstick from the roof of my mouth. Sometimes, when it’s bad, all I can manage is a high-pitched whining sound, but my voice feels relaxed now. “I just struggle with words sometimes.”

“Totally understandable. I will do my best to communicate how you need.”

That’s…nice of him, I suppose. I should probably care more, but I don’t.

Palmer looks like he’s waiting for some kind of response, so I nod at him and gesture for him to go on.

“I’d like to keep this little baby for a few days if you don’t mind. Run some tests, see what’s going on. I can have Alana go over the cost of everything at the front desk?—”

“No.”

He stops and stares. His eyes are wide and a little watery behind his glasses. I’ve always been kind of shit at reading expressions, but…is he going to cry?

Fuck, I hope not.

I never know what to do when people burst into tears. When I was younger, I would just hit them, but my father made it very clear that was the wrong response.

I take a breath, then hold up a finger and dig into my pocket for my thin, tattered wallet. I’ve had it since I was fifteen. Percy made it for me out of duct tape because it was one of the few materials I couldn’t accidentally shred while I was using it as a fidget.

“This is my brother,” I say slowly. I set Milo’s card on the counter so he can see my brother’s name. “He runs the cat café.”

Palmer’s eyes widen. “Oh. I know that place.”

I nod again. “Money doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure? This can get pricey and?—”

“Money doesn’t matter,” I repeat.

Money has never mattered. Money is just…money. It exists, and we have it, and I don’t fucking care about it more than that. Nico hates when I say that. He yells at me about privilege, which I get because he’s had to work all of his life for what little he has, and he’s spent years refusing to take what my father has offered him.

But it’s just not something I can bring myself to care about, just like the health plan for the cat.

As long as Palmer can make it better, that’s all that matters. I don’t want to be here. I want to get away from these smells and back out on the street to see if I can find Denver. My mind has already started wandering back to him, and pretty soon, I won’t be able to hear anything Palmer is saying because the only important thing is that Denver has been trying to track me down, and I was forced to leave him.

So now I want to hunt my little rabbit just like he was hunting me.

“O-okay,” Palmer says, putting the card into his pocket. “Then leave the cat to me.”

I nod and move to step away but freeze because I need him to understand something. “Do not let this cat die.”

Palmer’s eyes go wide. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, and there might be nothing I can do.”

I grunt. “Do not let her die if you can help it,” I clarify. “Do you understand? Milo will find out.”

And Milo will be so pissed if Palmer doesn’t do everything in his power to save this cat. A pissed-off Milo is like unleashing actual hell on unsuspecting humans, and I don’t think this poor man really deserves my brother’s wrath.

Palmer swallows thickly. He now looks appropriately afraid, which means he’s read my threat for what it is.

But I need to drive it home. “Do what you need to do.”

He lets out a small breath. “For a stray cat who will probably never get adopted?”

I snort. I can’t help it. “Milo will find her a home. Trust me.”

He blinks, then nods and shuts the cage door again. “Let him know I’ll be in touch soon.”

This time, I don’t bother to respond. I pull the handle on the exam room and get the fuck out of the vet’s office before I have a sensory meltdown. The fresh air does wonders at erasing the stench, but it was cloying and sticks to the inside of my nose for a little too long.