“Mm. An animal like that could still be a hard sell.”
Soren narrowed his eyes at his friend. Roman wasn’t fooling him with that neutral tone. He was trying to encourage him, just like Gabe. Soren huffed a frustrated breath. “Their lives are so short. What’s the point?”
“They are short,” Roman conceded, making eyes at his mate across the small crowd of people. “But there is a certain joy in giving them as much love as you canwhileyou can. Or that is how my Danny explains it.”
“Love has made you sappy,” Soren accused.
“Just me?” Roman countered, a mocking tilt to his lips.
Asshole.
But Soren found himself back in front of the cat cages sometime later, where the same friendly volunteer from earlier smiled at him. “Want to hold him?”
Soren let out a breath, wanting to say something snarky but finding himself nodding instead. “Yes. Please.”
The volunteer opened the cage for him, taking Bubba—not that Soren would be calling him that—into her arms and holding him out to Soren.
Soren had been right. The cat didn’t yowl or hiss or claw, just narrowed his eyes at both of them. Suspicious of newcomers, maybe. As he should be.
Soren took him from the volunteer. “You’re heavy,” he accused, holding the cat up to his eyeline. His one eye was yellow, which Soren supposed was kind of cool. It wasn’t a color one saw in humans, anyway.
“The vet will probably want him on a diet,” the volunteer told him.
Soren immediately hunched protectively over Not-Bubba. “He doesn’t need a diet. He’s just big-boned. And he’s old—let him live his life.”
The volunteer laughed, as if Soren had said something funny, and then left to help another family.
Jay wandered in some time later, catching Soren with Not-Bubba on his lap, both of them looking at—but not playing with—a selection of cat toys. “Soren!” he exclaimed. “You’re holding a cat!”
Soren stroked Not-Bubba gently above his nose, enjoying the way he blinked his one eye slowly at the touch. “I am.”
“Um…” Jay stood still above them, looking confused. “Do you want me to take him from you?”
“No.” Soren sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “He’s coming home with me,” he admitted. “He’s too ugly to stay here—it’ll ruin your whole aesthetic.”
He knew he was acting like a fool, but it was hard to be mad about it. Not when, for the first time, a faint rumbling began emanating from the cat.
He was purring.
Sometime later Soren was at the front desk, a large cat carrier in hand, Gabe grinning down at him, looking weirdly proud.
Soren scowled at him. “Don’t be smug.”
“I’m not,” Gabe said smugly.
“I’m in charge of cute cat accessories. You’re in charge of the litter box.”
“Fine by me.”
“You’re still looking smug.”
Gabe dropped a kiss on Soren’s lips. “It’s okay to want the cat, brat. What are you going to name him?”
Soren sniffed haughtily. “Certainly not Bubba.”
Gabe
Gabe tossed his house keys on the counter, feeling refreshed. He’d just had a run with Eric in the woods, their first since the shelter’s opening.
