He smirks. “Come on.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Oh, you’redefinitelytelling me.”
I exhale through my nose, already regretting this conversation. “Fine. His name is Sir Sassafras.”
Orion blinks once. Then again. “Sir Sassafras?”
“The Sassy Ass Cat,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
He freezes. Then his mouth splits into a grin so wide it should be illegal. “Oh, my God.Sir Sassafras the Sassy Ass Cat.Lucian, that’s—” Orion doubles over, laughing so hard I half expect Kelsey to come check if he’s dying. “This is the best day of my life.”
I glare at him, deadpan. “I am so glad my humiliation brings you joy.”
Orion’s laugh still fills the room, loud and unrestrained, and between laughs, he says, “You cannot be serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am dead serious,” I mutter. “His previous owner gave him a fuck ass name, so I’m trying to come up with a nickname he responds to. He’s three-legged, loud, and smug as hell. Keeps trying to groom my hair, and he likes trying to impersonate a scarf by draping himself around my shoulders.”
He’s the first thing I see every morning. He sprawls across my chest like I’m his personal mattress, purring loud enough to rattle my ribs. When I leave for therapy, he watches from the window until I come back. When I sit on the couch, he climbs into my lap, tucks his head under my chin, and falls asleep like it’s his full-time job.
Orion wipes his eyes. “Unbelievable. Lucian Sterling—the guy who once threatened to relocate a neighbor’s yappy dog to another zip code—now spooning a cat with a royal title.”
“I’m not spooning him.”
“Sure, buddy.”
I glare. “He just… sleeps nearby.”
“On your chest?”
I scowl. “He’s twenty pounds, it’s a good core workout.”
Orion grins like he’s won the lottery. “We’re going to have to smuggle Ass.”
That gets a snort out of me before I can stop it. “Come again?”
He smirks. “You heard me. We are going to have to smuggle Sir Sassafras the Sassy Ass Cat. TSA’s not ready for that kind of royalty.”
“Yeah, great. Let’s addfelony animal traffickingto my recovery milestones.”
He chuckles. “Relax. We’ll get him a carrier. Emotional support cats fly free, right?”
“Pretty sure that’s a myth.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. The idea of traveling still knots something tight in my chest. Flying. Crowds. Music.Her.Every part of it feels like a bruise I haven’t stopped poking.
But Orion’s still watching me the way he did when I was stuck halfway between fury and fear after the accident. And for once, I can’t tell if he’s dragging me back into the world or just refusing to let me sink. Maybe both.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But if he freaks out on the plane, I’m blaming you, andyouhave to deal with him.”
Orion grins. “Please. I bet he is calmer than you are.”
He’s not wrong. Sir Sassafras has the emotional stability of a monk. Meanwhile, I’m a car crash wearing shoes.
We say our goodbyes and go our separate ways as I try to figure out our next steps.
