He peers out the windshield at one of the stores, a giant pet supply depot. “You like cats, right?”
I try to reign in my confusion. “Yeah?”
“So go get a cat.” He says it like it’s obvious, like I’m the one who’s acting weird.
“I do want a cat. From a shelter, not some kind of kitten mill.”
“They work with a local animal rescue.” Brayden shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I checked the other night. I was bored.”
So you decided to see about getting me a cat?But I unlatch the door handle. Brayden stays put. “You’re not coming in?” I ask. “I thought we were supposed to do couple stuff in public.”
He blinks a few times as if he’s surprised that he’s invited, then pops the lock on the door. Once we’re both out of his truck, he extends his hand to me, the way he did when we were dancing. There’s no one else around—few cars, even fewer shoppers. We don’t really need to pretend.
Still, I take his hand. Walk with him toward the store, pausing outside to get a cart from a line of them when Brayden intercedes. “I got this.” And he takes the cart from me.
Inside, the store is overly bright. We navigate our way through various aisles that sell pet food and toys and beds until we get to a neat row of kennels containing various animals. The dogs all seem happy to see us—a few put their paws up on the metal wires of their kennel and bark happily—but most of the cats don’t even budge.
An attendant comes over. She has green hair, a clipboard, and a lanyard full of animal-lover pins. Her name badge readsSuzanne.“Can I introduce you to a new dog or cat companion?” she asks before she seems to register who Brayden is and almost swallows her tongue. “Oh! You’re—” Then her face scrunches. “I thought you were in Boston.”
Brayden’s hands go tight on the cart handle. His mouth pulls into the approximation of a smile—one entirely different from his real one. “That’s Blake,” he says tightly. “He’s the one who left for Boston.” His voice cuts a little onleft.
Suzanne steps back. “Uh, sorry about?—”
“I’m gonna wait in the car.” Brayden slides the cart toward me and flips his credit card into it. “Get anything you want.”
I consider all the ways Brayden might get up to trouble in a strip mall with nothing more than a pet store, a closed bank, and a shuttered bakery. “Be good.”
“I won’t.” And he stalks off, leaving me to wonder what I’ll come back to—or if he’s even going to be there at all.
It takestwo trips to bring everything out. First, I push the overloaded cart through the parking lot. Okay, the truck’s still there, though it’s too dark to tell if Brayden’s still in it.
When I finally get the cart up to the vehicle, Brayden jumps out and takes over for the last five feet. “You could’ve texted,” he says.
“I got it.” Even if I’m breathing hard.
“You shouldn’t hurt your—” He waves toward my face. “You know.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but if he wants to push the cart, I won’t complain.
He examines the cart’s contents. “No cat?”
“You think I got cat food and no cat?”
“I wasn’t sure.” He shrugs a little helplessly.
Something in the gesture makes me want to kiss him. A kiss just for being here and not having left. For apparently just sulking rather than going to get a drink. There’s no one else around the parking lot—no one I can use an excuse to hug him as they snap a photo. “Wait here.”
I go back to the store where Suzanne is holding the pet carrier. “You take care of this little one, and she’ll take care of you,” she says.
“I promise I will.” Though it takes two tugs of Suzanne’s arm to get her to let go of the handle.
The carrier is almost weightless as I transport it across the pavement. Tiny mews echo from inside. “Shh, Baby.” She needs a better name. That’s something Brayden and I should do together. That’s a couple thing, right? When I get back to the car, the back is loaded, neatly, and Brayden is leaning on the bumper.
He eyes the pet carrier I’m holding, the smallest size they had. “Can a cat even fit in there?”
I hold up the carrier; Baby gives anothermew.
Brayden frowns, then sneezes, then sneezes again.
