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Also, I’m slowly acclimating her to the idea of us living together. Like, maybe one day all her stuff will appear in my house, and she won’t question it.
Today, I’m pretty sure my plan is working.
When I walk in the front door, I’m in a zombie state.
This was a shitty day.
Someone returned a cat, claiming that it was aggressive. It was hard to argue with their reasoning, seeing as how the animal swiped at me the minute I opened the cage door. But I knew this cat. I’d held him and played with him when he originally ended up at the shelter. The cat had been affectionate. Now it was terrified of something.
And I have no idea what.
That’s the problem with working at a rescue. You can only help the animals as long as they’re in your care. Once you send them off with a person, you just have to hope the home is a good one. That the animal will be loved.
This cat went through something. And now he’s in quarantine for clawing me.
All I can do is make a note on the adopter’s file, and spend the next few months trying to teach the cat to trust humans again.
And seeing as how most humans are shit, I don’t expect the job to be easy.
My bedroom door is ajar, a light on inside.
Is she here?
Quieting my steps, I push into the room.
On my bed is proof that some humans aren’t terrible. At least one is as close to perfect as someone can get.
Summer lays on my bed in a nest of pillows, half of them ones she’s sewn for me. At least, she says they are for me. She tends to get more use out of them than I do. In the nest with her is Smaug, curled against her chest, his tail covering his nose. Both woman and cat have their eyes closed, napping even with the reading light on.
When I slipped my spare key into her pocket, I had hopes. None of them prepared me for this. For the utter contentment that fills my chest at the sight. This is what I want every day for the rest of my life.
Because I love Summer Pierce.
I think I’ve loved her for months.
She’s what I want forever.
But does she want me?
For now. I think she wants me for now. But that’s not near good enough.
Contentment is replaced by the beginnings of panic. Even though I want to crawl into bed with them, wrap myself around them and claim my little family, I don’t. I continue on to the bathroom and turn the shower on. The water stays freezing cold.
Good. I need that.
I scrub every inch of myself, trying to scratch the worry off my skin where it sticks like a layer of film.
You’ll drive her away.The voice in my head isn’t mine. It’s my father’s. Which makes it hurt all the worse because that man would never lie to me.
“Fuck that. She’ll stay,” I mutter to myself.
After I’ve passed the point of shivering, when my fingers are pruned and my lips are numb, I finally step out of the shower. The soft texture of the towel barely registers on my skin. It’s as if I’ve tried to freeze out the panic by numbing every nerve ending in my body.
In my rush, I didn’t bring any clothes with me. I head back to my room, adamant that I’ll keep my eyes off Summer.
I fail in the first second.
Smaug has wandered off, leaving her alone in the bed.
