The airport smells like stale pretzels, recycled air, and collective panic.
We’re barely two steps through the automatic doors before Sir Sassafras starts yowling again—soft at first, then louder, like he’s narrating our suffering. A woman in a yoga hoodie gives me a look that sayscontrol your child.
I adjust the strap on the bubble backpack and sigh. “Buddy, please,” I murmur under my breath. “I’m begging you. Just be a good boy until we get through this, and I’ll give you every treat in the bag when we land. The salmon ones, too.”
Sass ignores me and yowls even louder.
Orion smirks as we head toward check-in, his hands shoved in his pockets, completely unbothered by the chaos he’s inflicted on my morning. “Are you sure the paperwork cleared?”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you earlier, I got the email at two a.m.,” I mutter. “He’s officially an emotional support animal.”
The woman at the counter is in her sixties, her tortoiseshell glasses are perched at the edge of her nose like they’re seconds away from slipping off.
She peers over the desk at Sir Sass in his carrier, blinking twice at him, before her smile brightens.
“Well, now—he’sa handsome little gentleman.”
“Yeah,” I reply as I raise him for her to get a better look. “He’s definitely something.”
Her smile deepens, the practiced, airport-hardened warmth turning genuine.
“And traveling with you today, I assume?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I nod. “He’s my emotional support animal.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” she says, lifting her hand toward us. “I’m going to need IDs for both of you—passenger and handler—and proof of ESA clearance for your little captain here.”
Once we hand over all of our documents, she squints at her screen as she taps a few keys, before glancing back up with a tight smile. “Well, Mr. Sterling, looks like you’re all set. Just keep him in the carrier during boarding and through the gate, and let security know you’ve got an ESA tag.”
“Thanks,” I say, adjusting the duffel on my shoulder. My leg’s starting to complain again, so I shift to my other side, trying not to wince. My prosthetic is the last thing I want anyone to notice.
Orion’s already pulling out his boarding pass and does a fist pump when he sees our gate number. “Fuck yeah. We’re close to the good coffee.”
We move toward security, and I already regreteverything.
The line’s short, but I can feel eyes on me—or more specifically, on the yowling cat in the glowing blue capsule. Sir Ass has decided this is the time to practice his opera scales.
“You think he knows we’re flying?” Orion asks, sipping from a bottle of water he definitely didn’t have two seconds ago.
“He knows we’re doingsomething.He hasn’t stopped complaining since we left my apartment.”
The TSA agent waves me forward. I take a deep breath and brace myself.
“Sir, you’ll need to remove your laptop, shoes, and anything in your pockets—”
“And the cat?” I ask flatly.
He glances at the backpack, then back at me. “…Yes, sir. He’ll have to come out while the carrier goes through.”
Of course he will.
Behind me, Orion grins like it’s Christmas morning. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
I take a slow breath, crouch beside the carrier, and whisper, “Okay, Sass. Remember what we talked about. You behave, and I’ll give you all the treats you want, okay?”
Orion steps back, eyes twinkling as he reaches for his phone. “I’m filming this.”
“You film this, and I’ll feed you to him.”
