“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “Everything feels… decided for me.”
“I know,” I said. “And I hate that. Do you want to stay here?”
“I don’t know.” There was an abundance of pain in those words. “This is Archie’s place. But she had them move all my stuff out of the apartment. She broke the lease, I guess. So—if not here? Then where?”
“You know my mom likes you better than me at the moment, she’d probably let you have my room.” I wasn’t even joking. “I could go stay with my dad…”
“Coop,” she scolded, but only a little.
“I’m only half-joking.”
“I know.”
“So, if you decide to stay here, I’ll back that. If you want to leave, I’ll help you pack. If you want to disappear into the woods with three cats, I’ll bring snacks.”
That almost got a laugh. Almost.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I hesitated, then asked the question that mattered most. “Can I stay? Just… sit with you for a bit?”
She nodded. So I stayed. When I held out my hand, she looked at it for a long time, then set her palm against mine. Another eternity passed, then she leaned her head against my shoulder and I rested my cheek against her hair.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she said in a low voice. “That it’s all going to be okay.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I promised. “Come hell or high water, we will make it okay.” I couldn’t see her face, but I felt more than heard her sigh.
And I stayed. Not as the guy who’d always been a little in love with her. Not as the screw-up trying to make amends. Just as Coop. The kid who’d been there since the beginning. This time, I wasn’t going anywhere.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too loud. I just let her weight settle, my shoulder taking what it could so she didn’t have to. I swore I could feel the exhaustion rolling off of her.
For a while, we didn’t say anything at all, just sat there—being. Then there was a thump.
A light one. Like a small body launching itself with purpose.
I barely had time to register it before a warm, striped weight landed on the bed and marched across the comforter like she owned the place.
Tabby.
She walked right up to me, stared me straight in the face, and let out a single, judgmental meow.
“Hey,” I whispered, voice going stupidly soft. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”
Her tail flicked. She sniffed my sleeve, then my hand, then—like she’d decided I was acceptable—she headbutted my knuckles hard enough to make my fingers jolt.
Frankie’s lips twitched against my shoulder.
“Oh, you got the Tabby inspection,” she murmured.
“I feel honored,” I said under my breath. “Terrified. But honored.”
Another movement, quieter this time.
Tory padded over with that elegant, suspicious glide like she expected the world to disappoint her. She jumped up beside Tabby, glanced at me, and blinked slow. Not quite approval, but not a threat either.
Then Tiddles appeared like he’d been summoned by the concept of attention.
He hopped up on the bed with a soft grunt, yawned wide, and promptly shoved his head under my hand, all but shoving Tabby away.
