Ethan watched the panic pull her under, like Alice tumbling down a rabbit hole. “Let’s just focus on finding him. He was a stray before,” he said calmly. “He knows what he’s doing out there. He’ll be fine until we can find him.”
“But he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Cali argued. “He’s just a kitten. And he’s never been this far out of town. While everyone there might brake for him or offer him a bite, it’s a little more … feral out here.” Her brow tensed. “What if a coyote got him?”
Ethan shook his head, refusing to consider that possibility. “Look, the windows were open. We would’ve heard if he’d been in distress. So let’s split up. I’ll drive toward town, and you can search around here.” He cupped Cali’s face, grounding her, pulling her back from the spiral of what-ifs. “We’ll find him, Cali. We’ll call if either of us spots him. I’ll text every chance I get, even if I haven’t found him yet.”
“Okay,” she said. “And The Nine. I’ll text them, too. The more eyes we have watching for him the better.” Cali had spent so much time rescuing strays. She never imagined she’d lose one again. She covered her face with her hands, willing back the tears of concern and embarrassment. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you stay. I should’ve closed the windows before we fell asleep. I should’ve . . .”
Ethan shushed her softly. “Stop blaming yourself. Neither of us could have predicted this.” He took her by the chin and lifted her gaze and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “I promise you we’ll find him. Promise. We’ll keep searching until we do.”
Outside, the first morning birds began to sing—a sound that only made the house feel emptier. He kissed her forehead then marched toward his truck, his breakfast growing cold on the plate he’d left behind.
Cali grabbed her coat, keys, and phone and headed out, too, down toward the lake then up the hill, knocking on all the doors where there was someone to answer. She called Max’s name through the tall maples and dormant fields for hours, nervously fingering the cat treats in her coat pocket. Ethan pinged her at regular intervals, just like he’d promised, until he finally had to clock in with the crew. The Nine stayed vigilant, flooding her phone with messages and little bursts of hope as the day stretched on without a single sighting of the Maine Coon kitten.
By sunset, the sky had dimmed to bruised violet, and her mood sank with it. Her feet ached, her throat burned fromcalling his name, and even with half the town helping, she’d made no progress. When she finally stumbled home, she leaned against the door and let herself cry—for Max, for the empty house, for the guilt that clung like a second skin.
Then her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Ethan, separate from The Nine—You’re not going to believe this, but he’s been found.
Cali’s heart leapt into her throat.Where?she typed back.
No reply—just a photo. A fuzzy hammock, an orange tabby draped across it, glittery collar glinting in the light.
Catsby.
And below her, turquoise eyes peered up at the camera. Wide, curious, unmistakable.
Max.
The relief hit so hard it hurt.
Chapter 15
Ethan texted her his address, and because it was late and he had plenty of cat food on hand, they agreed to meet up Wednesday after work.
Cali recognized the street from his address, not too many blocks from both City Hall and the library. No wonder he’d become a regular at Minka’s café each morning and seemed to know everyone in this small town already. He lived—at least for now—right in the heart of it.
The string of townhomes was quaint and unassuming. Brick and pale blue exteriors. Small front porches. Potted plants. Several of his neighbors had decorated for autumn and Halloween, with large spiders dangling in open windows, ghosts and witches staked into their front lawns. Carved jack-o-lanterns, glowing faintly as the sun began to set, seemed to be a popular thing here, too. But not for Ethan. She easily spotted his house number because his old truck was parked in front of the garage. But nothing else gave away that the unit was occupied, except the shadow of a chubby cat with a curiously curved tail in the second-story window.
She pressed a finger to his doorbell, and he opened it before the sound stopped, as if he’d been waiting there for her. Before she could say a word, he scooped her toward him, a hand pressed into her lower back, and kissed her. He was warm and familiar and a welcome contrast to the cool air andthe frustration of the workday. In addition to searching for Max all day yesterday, Cali returned to the library to discover the staff had let the interlibrary loan requests be sent to the wrong branches and had devolved into a little spat over who was in charge of what for the day, which resulted in one of the volunteers quitting after feeling overwhelmed. They’d told her they had things under control, but she found herself losing all of Wednesday to getting the library back on track. It was the worst possible timing, too, given she’d only have Thursday and Friday to regroup around the Banned Books Week displays and scavenger hunt. Things were starting to unravel.
He pulled her into the townhome, and she was met with some unexpected charms. The living room was dressed in books and old records tucked beside a speaker. He had a hand-built coffee table in the center, bearing the inner rings of a tree under its glossy topcoat. Sure, the gray sectional had a standard bachelor pad feel, and the kitchen in back was nothing but a few cabinets, a fridge and an oven pressed against a wall. There wasn’t even enough room for a proper dining table. Still, it smelled faintly of wood polish and freshly baked bread.
“Watch out for Kicky Minaj,” Ethan warned, pointing at the fuzzy-tailed, giraffe-patterned plush toy at her feet. “If Catsby sees you step on that, she’ll hold a grudge. She might even cut you.”
Cali chortled. “I’d expect no less from one of the Barbz.”
She slipped off her ankle boots and glanced around, expecting to see Max or at least the cat tree from the photo Ethan had sent.
“They’re upstairs,” Ethan admitted. “Both probably asleep. Have you had dinner yet?”
She shook her head no, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “You don’t have to—”
“I know. But I want to.” He gestured to the sofa. “Sit. I’ve got leftovers,” he said, heading toward the fridge. “Coq au vin. The famous one. But this was the trial batch, so it might not be as good. I made some tweaks at your place Monday night. Still, couldn’t let something that good go to waste.” His eyes flicked toward her. “Guess I’m guilty of that in more ways than one.”
Cali felt a swirl of nerves in her stomach, but not over what Ethan had said. She didn’t sit and instead stood there, wringing her hands together. The quiet hum of the fridge, the lingering aroma of his leftovers, the little tufts of cat hair along the carpet. It all felt too intimate, too safe, for what she was about to do.
“I think I just want to see Max,” she said, voice soft but clipped.
