An alarm rang through the air and the conveyor belt filled with trash and other debris ground to a halt.

Cole, five hours into his shift, automatically sorted through the pile in front of him, pulling out cans, clean plastic bottles, and other items that were recyclable and throwing them into the bins to the side. Up and down the conveyor belt, other workers sorted through the same.

The smell wasn’t as bad as he expected, considering he was shifting through the county’s trash. Then again, he had been working at the recycling center for over five years. Maybe he had just gotten used to it.

Within a minute, the supervisor at the top of the line started the belt again. The trash flowed on for a few seconds, stopping again to let the workers sort through the new mounds.

Cole wanted to step away from the belt, pull off his heavy duty gloves, and check his phone for messages. He resisted the urge. Not only was his phone about to go over its tiny data plan, he doubted the state grant committee would alert him about his application via email. State workers usually communicated via old-fashioned snail mail.

What if Trent Kingston had called? What if he weren’t able to find Norman’s family, or they had already gone back to New York without their dragon? Cole couldn’t imagine doing such a thing himself, but he had worked fostering dragons long enough not to be surprised by anything.

The end of the shift at the recycling center was long coming, and he pulled out the phone the second the final bell rang.

His shoulders slumped. No email and no call from the Winchester Bay Veterinary clinic, either.

But…that was a good sign, right? Cole had been telling the truth when he said he didn’t have room to take on another dragon unless it was an emergency.

No, he thought. Maybe I just want to hear Trent—Doctor Kingston’s voice again.

Cole liked Trent’s voice. He liked everything about the somewhat reserved, awkward doctor. He was tall, a little on the gangly side, but whip-smart. He also understood dragons in a way that most people didn’t.

The public saw them as no more than flying cats or dogs. Even those who became bonded, or who were part of the ultra-exclusive families which owned Generational dragons, didn’t bother to get to know their own mind-mates. It was a shame.

Cole shook his head, returning his phone to his pocket. Very likely, Trent hadn’t called because he had gotten in touch with Norman’s owners. This was a good thing. Still, Cole would have liked to speak with him.

What would it be like to come home, not to a house empty of people (and full of dragons) but to have Trent waiting for him?

That little fantasy made Cole smile, small and private.

The smile was still on his face as he changed out of his uniform and into his regular clothing in the locker room and headed to his car.

To his surprise, someone was waiting for him in the parking lot.

Raul was parked next to Cole’s car. He stood next to his own large SUV, which had a prominent real estate sign on the door, and waved as Cole approached.

“Raul,” Cole said, greeting his on-and-off lover with more than a little trepidation. They had last seen each other a couple months ago, and Cole had the distinct impression that Raul had grown bored with him. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Raul was a handsome man, full of energy. His smile was salesman-perfect. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” he repeated, wondering if he had lost a step somewhere. Raul had made it clear from the onset that he wasn’t interested in being tied down in a relationship. They were friends with benefits—mostly benefits. And it was usually on Raul’s terms. “Don’t tell me you’re taking me out to dinner?” He pretended dismay, but couldn’t quite hide a thread of hope. His cupboards were almost bare between paychecks, and he was hungry at the end of his shift.

Raul’s smile widened. With a wink, he stepped to the back of his car. Then, to Cole’s further surprise, he withdrew a hissing dragon. It balanced on his arm, its wings spread. Luckily, Raul had put it in a harness and held the leash tight so it could not fly off.

“I found her abandoned in a house I was showing. Someone left her in a basement, can you believe it?” He held up the dragon to show it off—which was a bad idea. It bared its teeth at him and looked like it was considering taking a chunk out of his nose. “I know how you feel about the county shelter, and they’re closed today anyway. So, here you are.”

Raul presented the dragon to Cole as if it were an object instead of a living, breathing thing.

In that moment, Cole felt the weight of additional responsibility press down on his shoulders. With it came a worried type of despair.

Good people became overwhelmed by being unable to say no and taking in too many animals. He had seen it happen before. Both the people and their charges became stressed and sick. He didn’t have the room, and… he just couldn’t afford another dragon.

“Raul, I—”

“What’s the matter?” Raul frowned. “I thought you liked dragons?”

“I do,” he said. “But it takes time and money to adopt them out. I’m not running a legitimate shelter yet, and I don’t have the backing—”

“Well, I can’t keep her,” Raul said. “My landlord would freak. C’mon, Cole, I thought you took these in all the time.”

Cole opened his mouth, then paused. “Why are you calling the dragon “her”?”

It was impossible to tell the gender of a dragon without a medical scan or, more commonly, a DNA test. Most people defaulted to calling all dragons “him”.

Raul hesitated for just a split second before shrugging. “There was some paperwork left behind in the house. Does it matter?” He stepped forward, still holding the annoyed dragon on an outstretched arm. “Are you sure you can’t just take her? Please? For me?”

Raul had a pair of puppy-dog eyes that went perfectly with his salesman smile. Cole felt himself giving in, though he knew it was a bad idea. But where else could he take her? The shelter was closed this hour, and they tended to destroy more dragons than they adopted.

He took another long look at the dragon, then admitted he likely wouldn’t haven’t to care for her for long. Two feet long from nose to tail tip, she was a fine specimen. Dragons came in all colors of the rainbow, but this one was a uniform steel blue which was unique.

Carefully, Cole extended his arm. The dragon regarded him with suspicious anger, but she was well-trained. Within a few seconds she had stepped from Raul’s forearm onto his own.

“There we are,” Cole said as he felt the dragon’s light weight settle. He reached out with the side of his finger to stroke a foreleg. “What a pretty lady you are.”

“That’s a good name for her,” Raul said. “You do name them, right? Or are you worried you’d get too attached?”

“The dragons have names,” Cole replied, a little annoyed. Raul should know that. He had introduced them to the flock at his house more than once.

Once Lady had settled, Raul handed the leash off with visible relief. “You’re the best, Cole.” A hopeful smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Hey, if you’d like, I can swing by and help you settle her in....”

Was that supposed to be a line? Well, he wasn’t in the mood tonight. Not with finding a new responsibility dumped on his shoulders. “No thanks. I got it.”

The smile fell off Raul’s face and Cole felt a little vindictive pleasure as he turned to transfer the dragon into his own car.

Cole’s small house sat so close to the railroad tracks that the windows shook every time a train blasted by. That, and the rickety front porch were two of the reasons why he had been able to buy it cheaply using his inheritance as down payment.

He had lived in the house since he turned twenty-one and had spent a long time fixing it into shape. Now, a dragon-appropriate aviary stretched out the back door with steel-cable netting draped off the top of the cherry tree at its highest point and falling down to end at the fence line.

Old Bubba gave Cole a bellow of greeting from the front paddock as Cole parked his car. Bubba was a hundred and fifty year old Common. Dragons never really stopped growing, so now he stood as high as a pony at the shoulder, though age and arthritis kept him flightless.

Generational dragons lived centuries and were able to keep flying. Unbonded Commons usually had the lifespan of a human. Bubba was exceptional.

The old dragon ambled to the fence and snorted all over Cole’s hand as he reached over to give him a greeting scratch.

Lady, who had resettled on Cole’s arm, gave Bubba a warning hiss as if telling him not to get to close to herself.

“Be nice,” Cole murmured to her.

She flipped her wings back and turned her head away, ignoring him. Her attitude didn’t improve as Cole carried her into the house.

Cole had ten other dragons, all Commons, ranging from the size of coffee mugs to medium-sized dogs. They flew in and out of the window that connected the aviary outside to the house, trilling greeting calls.

As hungry as he was, Cole always fed his dragons first. Luckily, Bubba only ate once or twice a week—dragon metabolism slowed as they aged—but the others all required twice-daily meals: Frozen mice from a distributor when Cole could afford it, cheaply canned dragon-food from the grocery store when he couldn’t.

As he ladled out the food into individual bowls and set them around the house, he took the opportunity to examine each one of his charges for health and wellbeing: signs of scale-rot, injury, or behavior changes. He had picked up a lot of knowledge by housing so many dragons over the years.

“I guess I could be a nurse, after all,” he said to himself with a bit of a smile.

Cole had tried not to show it at the time, but he had been charmed by Trent’s offer. However, he had meant what he said about needing to keep the flexibility of a part-time job. Not to mention it was probably not appropriate to work with the doctor every day considering Cole had been nursing a quiet crush since Trent had joined the practice.

Still, playing out the little fantasy of working side-by-side with Trent kept Cole’s spirits up, even when he noted that the feed bin which housed the dry dragon food—ground meat baked into meal, much like dog food—was nearly empty. He estimated he had about a day’s worth left.

Good thing he was getting paid the day after tomorrow.

His own food store was looking a lot sadder. Cole had tried to be careful, but all that was left to him was a single pack of instant ramen.

After warming the cup in the microwave, he made himself eat slowly and stopped when it was half cone to put the rest of the mug, noodles, and broth in the refrigerator. That half cup would have to do him tomorrow.

He had other concerns.

Lady had ignored all offers of food and had chosen to sulk on a padded dragon-stand in the corner of his living room. Dragons were gregarious by nature, even more pack-oriented than dogs. It was unusual to find a loner.

Frowning, Cole sat on his couch and opened up his dusty laptop to check his email. No inquiries about adoptions today. If there was nothing new by the weekend, he would refresh the pictures of everyone on his website. Placement into new homes was just as important as getting the dragons healthy again.

Well, once his home-grown dragon shelter became certified by the state, he could look into fostering and that would help relieve the burden.

Through the evening, he kept checking on Lady, only to find her sullen and uninterested in company. Not good. It looked like Cole would be taking a trip to see Trent again. Soon.