Nathan cleared his throat, pointing to the foyer behind him. “One of the cat foster families is here.”
Over the next hour, a parade of cats moved into our house. The tortoiseshell cat, Mia, booked it as soon as she was free of her carrier, taking off up the stairs. A tuxedo cat—Mojo—meowed loudly, swiveling his head around the space, as if looking for someone.Gordon. My heart broke watching him, knowing he’dnever find his person. A three-legged cat named Bebe arrived next, and she waspissed, hissing when anyone approached. Her behavior was the exact opposite of the orange cat, Cappie, who flopped at my feet and stared up at me with soft eyes.
“They are your responsibility,” Nathan said, doing that infuriatingly hot wall-lean. Didn’t he know any other pose?
“Don’t listen to him,” I cooed to Cappie, running my fingers under his chin as he stretched his body to its full length on the carpet.
Nathan scoffed. “I’m more of a dog person.”
I pretended to cover Cappie’s ears. “He can hear you, you know?”
Nathan shook his head, a trace of amusement on his lips. He pushed off the wall and settled beside us on the floor. “I never knew you liked cats.”
“Look at their faces.” I used a sweet, higher pitched tone. Cappie’s excitement bubbled over as he launched himself at my arm, trying to pull me into a game that would only end with an array of scratches. I pulled back, glancing at Nathan. “My mom told me I was allergic to cats. I learned it wasn’t true after spending time with a boyfriend who had one.”
Nathan’s jaw clenched. I thought it was the revelation about my mother until he asked, “Mr. You Too?”
“His name is Jack,” I corrected. The reminder of his existence made me feel queasy. Even though we were taking time apart, at Jack’s request, the unresolved issues in our relationship hung over me. I’d been relieved to avoid the tough conversation, but I also didn’t like having loose ends like this. “And no, it was someone else. In college.”
Nathan winced while pushing to his feet. Earlier this week, the same expression had crossed his face when he reached to clean the top of a window. He’d caught me staring and asked,What?The pinched skin between his eyes made me say,Nothing. He didn’t want me to worry about his well-being.
But I couldn’t curb my instinct. The place within me that wanted to protect Nathan wasn’t an empty well. “What was that?”
Nathan didn’t pause his movements. “What was what?”
“The look on your face,” I pressed, getting to my feet and following him to the kitchen. “Is your shoulder bothering you? Is that why you’re up at the crack of dawn to do physical therapy exercises every morning?”
During freshman year of high school, Nathan injured his shoulder—an overuse injury, they said. For six weeks, he took a break from baseball and went to physical therapy. He was miserable, but he didn’t experience another issue for the rest of high school. At least as far as I knew. It was this injury that inspired me to pursue physical therapy. I liked how someone could stitch people back together without cutting into skin, to impact individuals in such a profound way.
I always loved baseball, but I only played for as long as I did because of Nathan. Becoming a physical therapist for a sports team seemed like a great way to stay in the world I loved without having to become the first woman to make the major leagues.
“It’s called maintenance.” Nathan swung open the refrigerator and took a swig from the milk carton. I raised an eyebrow. He wiped residual milk from his mouth with the back of his hand. “What? You don’t drink regular milk.”
He remembered.
“Why did you grimace then?” I asked, returning to the issue at hand.
“Maybe I don’t like hearing about your college boyfriend.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t try to distract me. I know that’s not it.”
He stepped toward me, backing me up until I hit the counter. “Do you?”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies taking flight in my stomach thanks to Nathan’s proximity. “You were also in pain while working in the café earlier this week.”
“Someone’s paying close attention,” he replied, tilting his head to the side. “Why is that?”
My stomach dropped when Nathan’s gaze flitted to my mouth. He wouldn’t act on it, but oh, how my body craved his kiss. I turned around and closed my eyes, giving myself a break.
I walked through life as a ball of barely concealed emotion, and it didn’t take much to see what pulsed beneath the surface. Having these feelings didn’t make me an awful person. It only mattered how I chose to behave.
I stepped away from Nathan and leaned back into the counter. “Have you seen someone about your shoulder?” I asked, refocusing on my original point.
The teasing smile fell from his face. “There’s nothing wrong with my shoulder.”
“Then explain what I saw.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you never slept wrong, Brenna?”
