I look up. Jared’s sitting on the couch with only a dim light on in the kitchen.
“Hey.”
His eyes warm as he pats the couch cushion next to him. “Come sit.”
I freeze as I look at his expression. When he reaches behind him and rubs his neck, I groan. “Crap. You didn’t find a solution, did you?”
“Meow!”
I whip around at the sound.
“Oh my gosh!”
I walk over to the kitchen counter where a beautiful gray-and-white tiger-striped cat is sitting like she already owns the place.
“She’s gorgeous!” I put out my hand and she sniffs it cautiously. “Can I pet you?”
“Meow!”
I laugh and run my hand over her soft, short fur. “You’re so pretty. What’s your name?”
“You want to help me figure that out?”
I turn back to Jared, who’s grinning from his front-row seat of watching me fall in love with his cat.
“I can see why you were willing to get kicked out of your condo,” I tell him as I give the cat one last pet before walking over to sit next to him on the couch. “She’s precious.”
The kitty jumps off the countertop and settles herself on Jared’s lap.
I try not to get sappy.
But watching tough-guy Jared love on a cat is making my heart feel things I’ve been trying really hard to avoid feeling.
“I can find a new apartment, Ash.” His voice is low as he pets the kitty. “Just not tonight.”
“But you were looking forward to living on the ranch. I know you were.”
“How do you know I didn’t come up with a solution?” he says abruptly.
“Because I know you. It was written all over your face—from your pleading eyes to your guilty tone of voice. Plus, you rubbed the back of your neck. You only do that when you’re anxious.”
“So you know my tells too.”
“Of course I do. We spent so many nights together—” I pause but then keep going— “especially at your place growing up whenever my stepdad would get violent.”
Jared clenches his jaw. “I’m sorry to say this, but I’m not sorry that fucker’s dead.”
His words hit my stomach like lead. I can’t disagree with him, though. That time in my life is a blur of terror mixed with anger and sadness.
But we survived. Even though I’ve concealed the truth of that last night from everyone but my mama and the police officer we gave our statement to.
“I’m okay now,” I tell him.
“You’re better than okay. You’re the best.”
“Thank you.”
“Ash.” He turns to face me. “I really will get an apartment. I just need a couple of days.”
