The kitten looks at her and mewls, then stabs my hand again with those tiny claws. I hiss, caught off guard, and yank my hand back. It’s covered in tiny, angry scratches now.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Found it hiding outside a few minutes ago. Ria made me take it.”
“Give it to me!” she nearly yells, launching forward and snatching the kitten from my arms.
She lifts it up, checks under its tail, then hugs it to her chest with a wide grin.
“It’s a boy! A little furry baby boy with little furry balls!” Then she looks up, glaring daggers. “He’s mine. You just found him. He’s mine now!”
I blink, hands raised in surrender.
“You can have him,” I say slowly. “But… Ria said she can’t keep him. Something about poisons in her place.”
“I don’t care. I’ll figure it out,” she snaps, voice high with excitement.
She turns toward the fridge and starts muttering, “He needs to eat.”
That little furry asshole didn’t scratch her once. Not even when she snatched him from me. Ria was wrong. I wasn’t chosen. I was just a mode of transportation for the Cat Distribution System she kept yapping about. I wasn’t the final destination.
“There’s some baloney in there. He looks old enough to eat that,” I offer.
She whirls around, eyes blazing.
“He’s not eating baloney. There’s leftover chicken breast. And steak,” she says, already digging through the fridge.
“Baloney,” she mutters again under her breath. “Who the hell feeds baloney to a cutie like this?”
I slump into a chair at the table, watching her. I… I don’t know what the fuck is happening. Why is she acting like this over a cat?
She pulls out a big piece of grilled chicken, lays it on the table with one hand, still holding the kitten with the other, and starts shredding it with a fork.
“Let me do that,” I say, taking the fork from her.
Surprisingly, she lets me without a word of protest.
She picks up small pieces of the shredded chicken and feeds them to the cat, still holding him. He slurps them down like it’s prime rib. Even lets out tiny growls while chewing.
I lean back in my chair and sigh. “If you’re keeping him, you’ll need a litter box.”
Her head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing to slits.
“IfI keep him? Iamkeeping him,” she spits, voice laced with outrage.
“Okay,” I whisper, not sure how to deal with this whole situation. “Why are you getting so worked up over a cat?”
“I always wanted a pet,” she whispers, feeding the kitten another piece. “But I was never allowed to have one.”
“You never said anything,” I murmur.
She exhales softly. “Why would I have? I was your prisoner. We had an expiration date, even if we pushed past it.” She looks up at me, and there’s nothing in her eyes but sincerity. “I might not have admitted it to myself back then, but my subconscious always knew. We were never endgame. Never real.”
I frown. “Your subconscious was wrong, adorable. We were always real. Even when we were apart.”
She groans, exasperated. “You honestly sound crazy, Ghost. Reality proved you wrong months ago.”
I lean forward, pissed off now. “And what actuallyisreality, Adora? You don’t know everything, do you? And you’re not ready to hear it. You’re making the same mistake I did.”
I stand, still looking at her. “I know my sins. I accept the blame. The responsibility. Take your vengeance, any way you want it. You deserve that. But…” I pause. Lean closer. “…you areright about one thing. Iamfucking crazy. Crazy about you. And it’s time I stop running from it. I’m done staying away. Done disappearing. Get ready, adorable. I’m coming for you.”
