“When Zeno was digging into Robin’s case, he found out that Robin left something kinda important behind,” Brio said. “Seems like she’d been hopeful about the future. She’d just adopted a kitten,” Brio told us. “When she was killed, they brought it to the shelter. But they’re overrun. And it’s a kill shelter. And he’s… not the most desirable kind—a black cat with yellow eyes.”
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Alara asked, nodding toward the box sitting against the wall.
“I figured I’d give you guys the option to decide if you want to give him a home or not. He’s vetted, fixed, and dog tested. Know your girl liked our cats.”
Alara looked at me, eyes just the tiniest bit round.
“It’s your decision,” she said, even though her answer was all over her face.
“That’s not how this works,” I said, shaking my head.
“But it’s your apartment.”
“Figured it was our apartment.”
“Yeah, well, important shit to discuss. But I got places to be. So, here, you take this,” he said, grabbing the box and putting it down on Alara’s lap. “And you two talk it over. Let me know what you decide.”
“Brio,” I called as he turned to walk away.
But he was already ducking into the elevator.
Alara looked over at me, brows raised.
“Maybe we say we are fostering,” I suggested. “That way, if we decide cats aren’t for us, it’s not gonna rip out Char’s heart.”
“That feels like a solid plan,” she agreed, pushing the edge of the box inward to get a look at the kitten. “Hi, buddy. I’m sorry you lost your mom. And had to go to the stinky shelter. But you’re about to be very loved on.”
“Come on,” I said, grabbing the handles of her chair. “Let’s go get him settled so I can go get supplies.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Pretty sure the cat will disagree with that,” I said.
“No, trust me. Brio will drop everything off outside the door. That’s his thing.”
“What’s that?” Charlotte asked, half-interested, when we made our way back in.
“Well, Uncle Brio dropped by and asked us for a favor,” I said as Alara set the box on the cushion beside Charlotte. “He needed someone to keep an eye on this little guy for a while.”
Alara pulled the tuck at the top of the box.
Not a second later, the kitten’s head popped up, wide yellow eyes scanning around before he let out a sad little meow that almost sounded like a question.
“Oh!” Charlotte gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Hi! You’re okay,” she cooed to the cat when it looked at her. “You’re here with us,” she said, reaching out toward him and petting his head.
“Unfortunately, his owner passed away, and he was taken to the shelter,” I said.
“That must have been scary,” Charlotte said, carefully putting her hands around the cat’s waist. “It’s okay to be sad,” she added, pulling him out of the box and settling him on her lap. “But we can try to make you happy again. Family helps,” she added, rubbing his head as he purred.
Alara glanced over at me, and I could read the thoughts running across her head.
We can’t give this cat back.
A loud, hacking cough sounded to our side.
“Fuck,” Liam hissed, cradling his aching ribs.
For once, I let the curse slide.
