Sherlock has been gone all night, hasn’t he?
I’ve been so caught up with everything that I didn’t realize he hadn’t slept in my bed.
“Sherlock?” My eyes are unseeing as Rafael breathes hard in my ear. “Is that Sherlock?”
“Roooo.”
Both our heads snap to the side. Perched on the railing, Sherlock sits, his usual disgruntled expression in place, tail sinuously twitching behind him.
“Oh, you stupid cat,” Rafael grumbles, the tension draining from his body as he leans against me. I can’t tell if I’m holding him up or if he’s holding me up, or if we’ve somehow become the perfect mess of relief propping each other up.
He lets me go slowly, hands dropping to his sides with a reluctant drag against my arms. I take an unsteady step forward, sucking in a shaky breath, then I turn to look at him.
He’s watching me, eyes dark, chest rising and falling like he’s run a marathon. He lifts a hand, hesitating for just a heartbeat before the back of his finger grazes my cheek—light as a sigh. “You okay, Freckles?”
“I thought…” My voice wavers. “I really, really thought…”
“I know.”
It looks like he’s about to say something—something I’mnotready to hear, so I pick Sherlock up and give him a smooch.
Rafael opens the other flap of the box. “It’s a plush toy,” he announces. “And blood—animal, I hope.”
Letting Sherlock down, I cross my arms. “So it’s a message.”
“And the message is ‘Stay the fuck out of this,’?” he says, holding up the decapitated black plush cat.
Even with Sherlock safe at my feet, the sight of it makes me queasy. I don’t care what Rafael thinks, my brother would never do this. Paige, Theo—they know how much I love this cat.
But whoeverdiddo this?
They’ve messed with the wrong cat lady.
the cringeworthy chaos[trope]
maybe not a classic trope but a personal favorite of this author; it’s that deliciously embarrassing moment that has everyone laughing… and low-key wishing they could disappear
“Who are you seeing?” I ask Ethan as he shoves a water bottle into the side pocket of his backpack.
“Jace,” he says, the word clipped. Noticing the tilt of my head, he stops to look at me. “Can you please meet him before you judge him?”
“I’m not judging him,” I lie, crossing my arms.
“You’re judging him,” he says flatly.
“I’m just—”
“You know,” Ethan interrupts, “Grandma used to call Mom a troublemaker, too.”
I hand him his cap with an eye roll. He’s right. Grandma always has something to say about people, and it’s rarely positive. “I’d feel better if I met him.”
“And I’d feel better if you trusted me,” he says, slinging the blue backpack over his shoulder. When I give him an insistent look, he groans. “We’ll see.”
He takes a step, then turns around and gives me and my towel a once-over. “Unless you want me to stay?” he says half-heartedly. “If you don’t have any plans or—”
If it wasn’t for the pity laced in his voice, I’d be touched. “I have plans,” I lie. “I’m going out.”
“Date?”
