Page 43 of Hearts on the Mend

I creep closer to the Jeep, about to peek underneath when suddenly, my leg is on fire.

“What the fuck!” I yell as razors sink into my leg. I spin, looking to see what’s attacking me, as Cassie throws a hand over her mouth, smothering a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” I bark. “What the hell is it?”

But just then, a small black fluff ball latches onto my belt before clawing up the front of my Carhartt jacket. The kitten’s crying, its mouth big and pink, with beady blue eyes.

“It’s too cold for you,” I say, trying to free its claws from my waist. I’m not sure what to do with it, and I don’t want its claws shredding me up anymore.

“Bring it in,” Cassie says. “I’ll get a box set up.”

A kitten.

I try to peel it off me, but it stays stuck. Finally, I just cradle it so it doesn’t fall. “Fine. You can come inside, you sneaky bastard.”

I kick off my boots by the door and walk to the kitchen, where Cassie has a box set up with a towel by the woodstove.

She plucks the kitten from my hand, holds it up into the light, and examines it. “Doesn’t look hurt. Are there any more outside?”

What the fuck am I gonna do with a kitten? There better not be more.

She glances up at me for half a second. “We can bring it to the shelter. Merritt Point must have one, right?”

I guess.

I peel off my jacket, about to hang it up by the back door before I walk it straight into the washing machine.

“No signs of fleas,” she calls out, as if reading my mind.

“What was it doing outside?”

Since we don’t have cat food, I dig through the drawer in the fridge for some lunch meat. It’s something until we can get to the shelter or a store. I hold out a piece of turkey above the box, and that’s when the thing with claws starts growling.

Grarah rah rah rah rah rah, before it chomps down the meat.

Cassie collapses to the floor laughing. “It’s like a furry little dinosaur.”

I peek at her, the kitchen light bleeding through her dark hair. I laugh, even if I’m stuck staring at her lips like some thirsty, horny teenage boy. The way I want to make out with this woman… just to be able to feel her lips against mine, feel her fingers scratch my scalp, hear the soft, breathy moans she makes.

“I think you’re lucky,” she says. “You’ve been selected.”

“For what?” I grab another piece of turkey and roll it up. The kitten growls again.

“You just won the kitten lottery.”

“The what?”

“Well, the universe only selects a lucky few. The kitten found you. It’s yours.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a kitten?”

“Pet it. Love it. Care for it.”

“Cassie, it’s not like I’m going to tuck the thing into my pack and fight fires.”

And suddenly, any goodwill I won with her this afternoon vanishes. The mood shifts between us, a small, careless reminder that this is temporary still, even if I don’t want it.

“All right. Well, get it warm. We’ll see if any more come today, and if not, we can bring it to the shelter tomorrow.”