“Take your time,” Jake said behind me, his voice low, steady.
I didn’t take my time.
The latch popped, and Tabby burst out like a furry cannonball. She launched herself onto my chest, claws hooking my shirt, and immediately started purring so hard her whole body vibrated.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing my face into her fur. “I’m so sorry.”
She headbutted my chin like she accepted my apology but still wanted to file a formal complaint. My hands were full of cat and relief and shaking, and I barely noticed when Jake crouched beside me and went for Tory’s latch.
Tory came out with the kind of dignified disdain only a cat could manage, stepping over Jake’s hand like he was furniture. She sniffed my knee, flicked her tail, and then—thank God—rubbed her cheek against my leg before hopping onto the low bench by the window to glare at the world outside.
“That’s one,” I said, breathless.
Tiddles’ carrier sat there like a threat.
My pulse kicked up again.
I shifted Tabby into the crook of my arm and reached for the latch with my free hand. The metal was cold. My fingers were still trembling.
The door opened.
And Tiddles stayed inside.
A hot wave of fear surged through me so fast I went lightheaded. “Tidd?—”
A pair of sleepy eyes blinked up at me from the back of the crate, and then—slowly, dramatically—Tiddles yawned. Wide. Luxurious. Like he’d had the most exhausting day ever.
Then he crawled forward, put one paw onto my knee, and climbed into my lap with the deliberate grace of a king accepting tribute.
I let out a laugh that broke into a sob halfway through.
Jake’s hand hovered near my shoulder, hesitated, then landed gently. “You’ve got them,” he murmured.
I nodded hard, biting my lip because if I let go even a little, I’d fall apart in a way I wasn’t sure I could stop.
Jeremy cleared his throat softly, not interrupting, just… existing. “The veterinarian said they did well,” he offered. “They were displeased, of course, but healthy. All up to date.”
“Thank you,” I managed, voice wrecked. “Thank you for—everything.”
He inclined his head like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just saved my sanity with a litter box and a calm tone. “Of course, Miss Frankie.”
Tabby, apparently sensing we were done with this emotional display, decided it was time to see what was in the bowls. She jumped down and immediately started eating like she’d never been fed in her life.
Tiddles followed, slow and regal, and then Tory hopped down too, sniffing each bowl like she was inspecting the quality control.
I sat back on my heels, staring at them like if I blinked they’d vanish.
Jake stayed crouched beside me, quiet, while Jeremy was a presence at the edge of the room, giving me space without leaving me alone.
And my whole body still felt like it was buzzing. Like even with my cats safe, the rest of the day was still sitting in my bloodstream, waiting to hit again.
It did.
Because the next thing my brain did—because it hated me—was remember the sitting room.
My mother’s voice. Her smile.Everything worked out.Mr. Standish—no, Edward—watching us like we’d always belonged there. And thatringon my mother’s hand.
My stomach turned.
