Blood and Biochemistry

Chapter 9

Moose arrived on Sunday.

There had been no warning, discussion, or paperwork.

At least, no paperwork that involved the rest of us.

The apartment door flew open shortly after noon.

Mason entered carrying a large bag of dog food over one shoulder.

Behind him bounded seventy pounds of golden fur, oversized paws, and absolute joy.

“I have a son!”

Adrian stood so quickly that his chair scraped across the floor. “No.”

Moose skidded on the hardwood. His back legs swung sideways, and his tail struck the wall.

He recovered immediately and charged into the living room.

“Mason, no.”

“You haven’t even heard the circumstances.”

“There are no circumstances in which that dog lives here.”

Moose spotted Oliver.

Oliver sat cross-legged beside the coffee table, assembling something with wires.

The dog shoved his entire face beneath Oliver’s arm.

Oliver stared down at him.

Moose licked his chin.

Oliver went completely still.

Mason beamed. “He likes you.”

“He’s touching exposed circuitry.”

“He’s curious.”

“He’s drooling into a voltage regulator.”

“Educational drool.”

Adrian stepped around the table. “Take him back.”

Mason’s expression changed.

The smile remained, but something vulnerable appeared beneath it.

“I already signed the papers.”

“You signed papers?”

“He’s an emotional support animal.”

“For what?”

Mason gestured broadly. “Emotion.”

“You cannot diagnose yourself with emotion.”

“I talked to someone.”

“Who?”

“A licensed professional.”

“Who?”

“The counselor.”

Adrian looked at Oliver.

Oliver wiped dog saliva from his chin. “He has documentation.”

Adrian’s attention snapped toward him. “You knew?”

“I reviewed the housing regulations.”

“And said nothing?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You knew he was bringing an animal into our home.”

“Technically, I knew he intended to.”

“That distinction is meaningless.”

Moose noticed me.

His ears lifted.

Then he came straight toward me.

I barely had time to brace before he planted both front paws on my thighs and nearly knocked me backward over the arm of the couch.

“Hi.”

His tail moved so fast his entire body wiggled.

I scratched behind his ears.

He responded by attempting to climb into my lap.

“You are not a lap dog.”

Moose disagreed.

He lowered his massive head onto my shoulder and sighed.

Mason pressed one hand to his heart. “He chose you.”

“I think he chooses everyone.”

“He ignored Adrian.”

At the sound of Adrian’s name, Moose lifted his head and looked across the room.

Adrian looked back.

The dog went still.

His tail slowed.

Then stopped.

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

Silence fell.

Mason laughed nervously. “Okay. That’s new.”

Adrian did not move.

Moose’s fur lifted slightly along his shoulders.

Something in Adrian’s expression sharpened.

Not anger.

Recognition.

I kept one hand against Moose’s neck. “Hey.”

His attention flicked toward me.

The growl faded.

He licked my chin.

I sputtered and shoved his face away.

Mason laughed.

Oliver watched Adrian.

Adrian watched the dog.

“He cannot stay,” Adrian said.

Mason crouched beside Moose. “He’s already registered.”

“No.”

“He has a vest.”

“No.”

“It says emotional support.”

“I can read.”

“He’s good for apartment morale.”

“He growled at me.”

“He has excellent instincts.”

Adrian’s gaze turned glacial.

Mason immediately focused on Moose. “Who wants a treat?”

Moose barked.

“He is not sleeping in our room,” Oliver said.

Mason looked wounded. “Why not?”

“Because you snore.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“So?”

“I refuse to endure both.”

Mason considered this. “Living room?”

“No,” Adrian said.

“You don’t sleep.”

The apartment went silent.

Mason blinked.

Oliver looked down at the wires in his hand.

My gaze shifted toward Adrian.

His face became completely unreadable.

“I sleep,” he said.

“Barely,” Mason replied. “You’re always awake when I get up.”

“I wake early.”

“And go to bed after us.”

“I require less sleep.”

Mason shrugged. “See? Moose won’t bother you.”

Adrian looked as though he wanted to argue.

Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom.

Moose watched him go.

A quiet whine escaped the dog.

Then he climbed fully onto the couch and sat on me.

I grunted beneath his weight.

Mason pointed. “Look at that. He’s helping already.”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

“Emotional support is heavy.”

Chloe met the guys three days later.

She arrived without warning, carrying two iced coffees and enough confidence to survive a military invasion.

I opened the door. “You know phones exist.”

“I texted.”

I checked mine.

She had.

Six times.

My phone had been silenced beneath a stack of notes.

“I was studying.”

“You’re always studying.”

“I have classes.”

“I also have classes.”

“You draw skeletons in yours.”

“They’re educational.”

She pushed one coffee into my hand and walked past me.

Then she stopped.

All three guys were in the living room.

Mason sat on the floor with Moose sprawled across his legs. Oliver occupied one end of the couch with his laptop.

Adrian sat in the armchair beside the window, reading.

The room went quiet.

Chloe took them in one at a time.

Mason smiled.

Oliver nodded.

Adrian looked up.

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

I felt dread settle into my stomach. “Chloe.”

She turned toward me. “That’s him.”

“No.”

Mason looked between us. “Who?”

Chloe pointed at Adrian. “The Hot Hockey Vampire.”

The silence that followed was magnificent.

Adrian lowered his book.

Slowly.

“The what?”

Chloe froze.

Her hand remained extended.

I closed my eyes.

Mason made a strange choking noise.

Oliver removed his glasses.

“The what?” Adrian repeated.

Chloe lowered her arm. “I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“She can’t,” I said.

Mason’s shoulders began to shake.

Chloe looked at me with betrayal. “You said he didn’t brood.”

“I said you shouldn’t call him that.”

“You said both.”

Mason lost control.

He fell sideways against Moose, laughing so hard no sound came out.

Moose assumed this was a game and began licking his face.

Oliver covered his mouth.

Adrian looked at me. “Evangeline.”

I held up both hands. “I did not name you.”

“Technically,” Chloe said, “I did.”

His gaze moved to her.

She smiled weakly. “Hi. Chloe.”

“I gathered.”

“I’m Evie’s friend.”

“I also gathered that.”

“She has others,” I said.

Chloe ignored me. “For the record, it was based entirely on your aesthetic.”

“My aesthetic.”

“The black clothes.”

Adrian looked down at himself.

He was wearing black.

“The pallor,” Chloe continued.

Mason wheezed from the floor.

“The whole ancient, tortured, gothic cathedral thing.”

Oliver turned his face toward the wall.

Adrian’s expression did not change.

Somehow, that made it worse.

“And hockey,” Chloe finished.

“I understand that portion.”

“Great.”

“No,” Adrian said. “I understand why you included hockey. I do not understand the rest.”

Mason finally managed to sit up. “Hot Hockey Vampire.”

He dissolved again.

Adrian looked at me.

I sipped my coffee. “This feels like a consequence of your personality.”

His eyes narrowed.

Chloe leaned close to me. “He’s even doing the stare.”

“I know.”

“I see it now.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Moose climbed off Mason and approached Chloe.

She dropped to her knees. “Oh my God.”

Moose immediately rolled onto his back.

Chloe rubbed his stomach. “Who is this angel?”

“My son,” Mason said. “His name is Moose.”

“Of course it is.”

Mason brightened. “You understand.”

“Deeply.”

Within ten minutes, Chloe knew Mason’s hometown, Oliver’s major, Moose’s favorite treat, and Adrian’s complete unwillingness to engage in personal conversation.

Within fifteen, she had opened the refrigerator without asking.

Within twenty, she was sitting cross-legged beside Mason, feeding Moose pieces of apple and discussing whether he needed a Halloween costume.

“He does,” Chloe said.

“He absolutely does,” Mason agreed.

“No,” Adrian said.

Neither acknowledged him.

“A bumblebee,” Chloe suggested.

“A lion.”

“He already looks like a lion.”

“A shark.”

“He has the personality for a bee.”

Adrian closed his book. “The dog will not be dressed as an insect.”

Mason stared at him. “You’re participating.”

“I am objecting.”

“That’s participating.”

Chloe looked at me. “I like it here.”

Adrian stood. “I don’t.”

He walked toward the bedroom.

Chloe waited until the door closed.

Then she whispered, “Hot Hockey Vampire.”

Mason collapsed against the couch.