Page 41 of The Scars We Heal

Bec

OMG hello? You failed to mention he was a cowboy! Does he have any single cowboy friends? Asking for me.

I held in a laugh, still holding the kitten in one arm.

Unfortunately, I don’t think so.

Bec

Damn. I need to find myself a cowboy.

I mean, Jake is single as far as I know.

I immediately regretted sending that message the moment it was delivered. It was the truth, though. Jake and I weren’t together. He was single, and I had been denying having any feelings for him, even if that was miles from the truth.

Bec

No, no, no. Don’t play that. He’s YOUR cowboy, girl.

I loosed the breath in my chest, relief washing over me as I unclenched the grip on my phone.

Right. That was silly of me.

Bec

See you in about thirty?

Sounds good. See you then.

“Did you see all that?” I looked down at the kitten. “I have a new friend.”

Cheeto let out a squeak in response then clawed at my arm until I set him down on the floor. He disappeared around the corner to who knows where. Kittens and children were kind of similar in their energy levels, their tendency to get into trouble, and their refusal to listen ninety percent of the time. At least Cheeto couldn’t talk back or tell me I looked like a toe.

Pulling some groceries out of the cabinets in the kitchen, I started putting together a snack tray for Whitley and Bec’s son.

“Whitley!” I called out for her, waiting for the pitter-patter of her feet across the hardwood floor.

Nothing.

“Whit?” Abandoning the kitchen, I headed down the hallway to her room.

“Shh, Cheeto.” Her muffled voice filtered under the door. “Don’t tell Mommy, or I’ll get in trouble.”

Don’t tell Mommy what?

Choosing not to knock, I waited to hear more of what she was doing.

“Do you like dino nuggies, too, Cheeto? I love dino nuggies.”

Sure enough, the sound of a kitten gobbling chicken followed, and I finally opened her bedroom door.

“Whit, what are you doing?” Placing my hands on my hips, I watched in amusement as she tried to hide the Ziploc bag of cold chicken nuggets leftover from last night’s dinner.

“Nothing!” She flashed me her best innocent smile, but the breading crumbs on the floor and the kitten licking his chops gave her away.

“Cheeto gets kitten food. Human food will make him sick,” I explained. “I don’t want him to get a stomach ache, so please don’t feed him more chicken nuggets, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. I’m sorry.”