She shrugs. “Could go either way. I’m no psychic. I’d prefer neither, though.”
My smile is small, tight, but real. “I’ll do my best.”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Proud of you.”
And for the first time in a while, I believe it.
Cece heads out after a while. She’s off to meet Dev at the library. Study session and then a dinner date. It’s almost normal now seeing them together. I tell her to text me when she gets there and close the door behind her without locking it.
The house is too quiet. Normally, I relish the peace when my noisy roommates are away. But today, it feels like something is missing. First, I think it’s just Cece’s absence. Her comforting familiarity. But then I realize…
It’s the cat.
“Blue?” I call, walking into the living room.
Nothing.
No purring, no thud of a furry missile launching off the back of the couch to tackle my feet. Just stillness.
I check the usual places. Behind the armchair. Under the coffee table. In the bathroom, where he likes to scratch the shit out of the mat. Nothing.
“Dude,” I mutter, louder now. “Not funny.”
Still nothing.
I’m not panicking. Not really. But there’s a cold pinch of something under my ribs as I check the laundry room, then the space behind the fridge. All clear.
Finally, I check my room. The light’s off, but the door’s cracked. I nudge it open, scanning the floor. The closet is open a crack, so I step over, swinging the door open, heart racing.
That’s when I see it.
Bluebeard is curled up in the corner of my closet, nose buried in the folds of a piece of clothing. I don’t leave clothing on the floor, but when I lean down, I realize it’s one of Luna’s hoodies. The gray one she left here after her last overnight stay. It’s got frayed cuffs and a faint coffee stain on the hem.
My heartbeat slows down, and I take five deep breaths to stave off the panic. He’s safe.
He’s asleep, paws tucked under his chin, breathing slow and even. There’s a contented rumble coming from him. I crouch down, reaching toward him slowly.
“Really?” I whisper. “Almost gave me a heart attack there, dude.”
He shifts but doesn’t move. Just burrows deeper into the hoodie like he misses her.
I sit back on my heels, and I’m right back there.
Back in her car, helping load donation bins into the trunk while she told me explicit details about every single cat at the rescue. At her place, watching her kiss the top of Celeste’s head while she was eating breakfast. Then laughing at the look of disgust on Celeste’s face. At the photo shoot when that kitten got tangled in her hair.
I press my hand over my face. Because the truth is, I’ve been walking around like I lost something. But it’s not something I’m going to find around the house. Because it’s her.
It’s always been her.
I settle down next to the cat while he sleeps. He shifts, lets out a little contented grumble, then settles again. Still curled into Luna’s hoodie like it’s the safest place in the world.
I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes.
There’s a smell in the fabric that still hasn’t faded. That warm, grounded scent I’d learned to pick out in crowds before I even realized I was looking for it. A mix of clean linen, cheap lip balm, and the faintest trace of whatever body spray she kept in her gym bag. Something soft and sweet.
I breathe it in, and for a second, I feel her again.
Not the Luna from the livestreams or the viral comments or the clipped, cruel soundbite that won’t stop playing in the back of my head.
