Cecily stood with her friends in the lobby of a small roadside zoo. She was holding a small paper tray of fruit cups and a tiny baby bottle and wondering what she was doing with her life.

The lobby smelled like urine and sounded like a baby shower, with grown adults squealing over the kitschy items for sale.

They’d been on the road, making pretty good time, until Bea had spotted this place and swerved into the parking lot like a stunt driver for an action movie - all screeching brakes and spraying gravel. Cecily swore the RV had been balanced on two wheels at one point.

“I can’t believe this, can you?” Bea asked Cecily excitedly for about the tenth time.

“It is unbelievable,” Cecily assured her.

Bea didn’t notice her sarcasm. She was too excited about examining the tiny food containers and wondering to Buck about what kind of animals she would be feeding them to.

Cecily gazed down at the small plastic cups of fruity stuff in her own hands. Somehow, not knowing anything about the creatures that would be eating the food made the whole thing feel even more sinister.

“Do you like animals?” Solo asked.

“I like cats and dogs,” she said. “You know, normal pet animals.”

“Was that a snake on the sign for this place?” Solo asked.

He sounded genuinely interested.

“Yes,” Cecily said. “It was definitely a snake.”

The line in the lobby began to move toward an unremarkable door in the wall. It looked like it should lead to a janitor’s closet. Instead it opened into a narrow hallway.

On either side, so close she could have reached out her hands and touched both at once, were plexiglass cases holding an assortment of large snakes.

Cecily shuddered and kept her eyes on the back of the person in front of her.

She tried not to listen to the guide ahead explaining that Shirleen, the proprietor of the zoo, had built all the exhibits herself. If Cecily thought too hard about that, she might start to worry about how much Shirleen knew about zoo safety and snake containment. And that way madness lay.

“They are very beautiful,” Solo said. “But how are we supposed to give them their snacks?”

“Um, I don’t think these snacks are for them,” Cecily said. “Snakes are meat eaters. And most of them prefer live prey.”

There were delighted squeals from the front of the group as the hallway opened up into a larger room.

“Now what?” Cecily grumbled, expecting to be greeted by some new, scaly thing.

But there was only a man holding a bunny. It sat calmly in his arms and accepted the patting and adoration of the group with quiet dignity.

Cecily longed to stroke those velvet ears.

“I don’t care what it eats, I want to pet it,” Solo announced.

Cecily laughed and approached with him.

The bunny submitted to their attentions with a cool indifference that was spoiled only by the endearing wiggling of his nose.

Solo’s hand grazed hers and she felt that zap of electricity between them that she’d felt at every accidental touch since they met.

They moved on down another hallway.

The person in front of Cecily stopped walking suddenly and she barely managed to avoid smashing into them.

Solo bumped into her, but caught her by the shoulders so she was in no danger of falling.

“I’m very sorry,” he said.

“No worries,” she said. “I think my backpack took the impact.”

She laughed, knowing her backpack was overstuffed. She always carried an extra sweatshirt, along and a few other necessities.

“Hey, what’s that on the zipper?” Solo asked, indicating the small silver star that dangled there.

“Oh, it’s just something my mom gave me,” she said. “It used to be a bracelet, but I outgrew it a long time ago.”

“I read your book,” Solo said carefully. “I’m sorry your mom died.”

Cecily swallowed over the lump that was suddenly in her throat. She’d thought she was past the sudden tears that used to prickle her eyelids. But Solo’s sincere and simple words had broken something open in her again.

“Do you have lots of mementos from her?” he asked as they passed yet another reptile cage.

“Not really,” Cecily said. “I travel a lot, so I can’t bring that kind of stuff with me.”

“Do you keep other things from your childhood that remind you of her?” Solo asked.

Cecily shook her head.

“Oh,” he said. “Does it make you feel sad that all your things are gone?”

“I’m not super sentimental,” Cecily said, shrugging. She didn’t like talking about the past, her mom, or any of the things that made her sad.

Solo nodded, but he looked troubled.

It hit her that he had just left everyone and everything he had ever known behind on Aerie.

“All of my stuff isn’t really gone,” she told him. “I have a storage locker back in Englewood.”

“Is that where you live when you aren’t traveling?” Solo asked.

“No, that’s my hometown,” she said. “When my mom died I went back to clean out the house so it could be sold. I got rid of almost everything, but I put a bunch of personal stuff in storage to worry about later.”

“When will you attend to it?” Solo asked.

“I don’t know,” Cecily shook her head. “The storage fee is cheap and I never really made a plan. I guess maybe I’ll leave it there forever.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. The whole thing just made her sad.

But it was nice that Solo was curious.

They came up to another set of plexiglass cases. A small monkey hopped up and down on a square of wood, pointing at something in the wall.

A little girl ahead of them was waving back at the monkey.

“That monkey wants something,” Solo said.

They watched it for a moment. It pointed up at the wall, then pressed its little hand against its face.

“Oh,” Cecily said, realizing. “Look at that.”

A PVC pipe stuck out of the wall, the other end was just above the monkey’s little platform.

“Ah,” said Solo.

He approached the little girl.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I think the monkey wants you to put food in the pipe for him.”

The girl looked at the pipe in the wall, the monkey and Solo, her eyes dancing in delight.

The monkey jumped up and down, shoving imaginary food into its little mouth.

The girl snatched a cup of fruit from her tray and moved to dump it down the pipe. But in her excitement she spilled it and most of it fell into a floor grate.

“Oh no,” she cried.

Solo plucked the fruit cup off his own paper tray and handed it to her at once.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Madison,” her mother said reprovingly.

“It’s okay,” Solo said.

The mom looked him up and down appreciatively.

Cecily felt jealousy bubbling up.

But Solo had eyes only for the child, and the monkey, both of whom seemed positively giddy with anticipation.

The girl stood on her tiptoes to slide the fruit into the pipe and they all stepped back to watch as the monkey enthusiastically shoveled fruit into his mouth.

“Yes,” Madison cried, offering Solo a high five.

“Excellent,” he said, smacking her hand back lightly.

“Thank you,” the mother mouthed to him.

He smiled and shook his head, then moved back to Cecily.

“That was nice,” she said.

“Yes, I’m glad the monkey was pleased,” he replied.

“No, I meant it was nice of you to help the little girl,” she said.

“I like helping people,” he said.

“Want to help me feed the monkey?” Cecily asked, offering him her fruit cup.

He laughed.

For a moment she let herself enjoy the way the sound made her insides melt, the brilliant blue of his mirth-crinkled eyes, and the way his dark hair brushed his forehead, as if even it couldn’t resist the desire to caress him.