“Cockatoo,” Olivia replied before adding a nearly silent “Me.” She smoothed her hand along the top of the dog’s head and down his neck to his long back. If he even noticed, he didn’t let on. A second robin had joined the first, and he was oblivious to everything else in the world, including her.

Olivia didn’t care. She couldn’t remember feeling this way about a dog in a long time. And Ava’s words were a reminder she needed about Aunt Becky’s small, cramped place; it just wasn’t the right home for this remarkable animal who’d been through so much already. As much as she might like it to be.

Chapter 13

Whether he liked it or not, Gabe was pretty sure not being able to sleep in past a quarter to six was a sign of maturity, not insomnia. As much as he’d enjoy lazing in bed this morning and hopefully dozing until his alarm went off at seven, he figured he was better off getting his ass moving instead. Wednesdays were his one free weekday morning. And this was only because his office was open late on the hump day for clients needing that option.

He didn’t need to be in until eleven since he’d be there until seven or eight tonight. He’d gotten into the habit of going out to breakfast on Wednesdays with his brother, who was a second-shift security guard at Wash U, but today his brother and sister-in-law were headed to an assembly at their daughter’s school.

After disregarding a pile of dirty laundry for another day, Gabe tugged on a pair of somewhat-clean athletic pants and a T-shirt and chugged a glass of water. Samson was still in a heavy doze and would be fine waiting to go to the bathroom till he got back, so Gabe headed out for a run.

In high school and undergrad, he’d played baseball. Had he been forced into track at gunpoint back then, he would have chosen sprints over distance runs any day of the week. For the last year, committed to adding something to his exercise routine besides weights, he’d taken up jogging. At first it had been small-scale torture. But he’d worked his way up to seven-mile runs a few times a week. Doing so made him feel better about the two or three cheeseburgers and the fourteen-ounce steak that typically ended up being a less healthy part of his routine each week. Eventually, he was going to have to expand his cooking skills beyond baking frozen foods, grilling, boiling water for pasta, and managing to not massacre a pan of scrambled eggs.

Yun was quick to point out that all the things he resisted would keep presenting themselves over again until he figured them out, and he couldn’t say he disagreed with her.