I sat on the couch and grabbed the throw draped over the back. The thing fought me as I attempted to pry him from my chest. His claws snagged on my sweater, but I won in the end, bundling him in the blanket snugly enough that he couldn’t move his legs. He let out a disgruntled yowl but didn’t hiss or fight me.
When Hailey returned with the bowl of warm water, I instructed her to set it on the small side table. She glanced between me and the kitten, who I held face-up on my lap.
I gave her a reassuring smile and reached for the washcloth floating in the bowl, wringing it out before gently pressing it to the kitten’s eyes. He meowed, but didn’t struggle as I held it there.
“What are you doing?” Hailey watched intently.
“I don’t really know,” I admitted with a small shrug. “But I’m hoping the heat and moisture will loosen the crust.”
Hailey grimaced. “Why are his eyes like that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I can look it up after I try this, but even human babies get crusty eyes sometimes. I’ve just never seen anything this bad.”
She watched silently as I continued, murmuring softly to the kitten and checking his progress. It took awhile and a lot of gentle patience, but eventually the crust softened and I was able to wipe it away.
Hailey gasped when we saw his eyes. They were a perfect bluish-gray, still a little swollen, but clear of the gunk.
I cleaned the rest of his little body, and when I finished, he curled into a ball on my chest and started to purr.
I grinned at Hailey, who stared at him with pure wonder. She was practically making heart-eyes at him.
“He’s probably hungry.” She slid onto the couch beside me.
I nodded. “Probably. I’ll get him cat food tomorrow after the vet, but I can make him some chicken for now.” He was pretty tiny, but he had teeth and I was fairly certain he was old enough to eat solid food.
I carefully transferred the kitten to Hailey, who almost melted with contentment when he snuggled up on her chest, too. Then, I headed into the kitchen to cook.
Bythetimethekitten had settled enough to stop shivering, the baked chicken breasts were almost done. I’d left one set aside without any spices or salt for the kitten, and as I was mashing the potatoes, I heard the front door open.
I froze, masher suspended in midair.
Roman. Crap.
I’d completely forgotten to warn him about the stray animal I’d brought into the house.
I waited, breath held, staring at the kitchen entryway until his figure finally appeared. I couldn’t read his expression—he always had that faint furrow between his brows—but when his gaze locked on mine, my stomach tightened.
He stopped a few feet in front of me, heavy brows lifting. He smelled faintly of smoke and sweat and something clean and spicy.
“You wanna tell me why my daughter is cuddling a gray rat in my mother’s living room?”
My cheeks heated as I set the masher back into the pot of steaming potatoes. I stared down at them—they smelled warm and buttery.
“It’s not a rat.” I sounded braver than I felt.
I lifted my chin. Roman was intimidating, but he was also gentle in his own way. I’d seen it in how he treated Hailey. Still, when he narrowed his eyes at me like that, it was easy to forget.
“Then what is it?” he asked, unconvinced.
“It’s a kitten.”
His frown deepened. “A kitten?”
“Yes. We saved him.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh and placed his hands on his narrow hips. I tried not to linger on how nice he looked in his uniform. He wore the fancy one today, with a black coat with gold bands on the sleeve and slacks that were tailored perfectly for him. He must’ve had some sort of important meeting. The metals and crests pinned to his chest spoke of honor and respect.
I clenched my jaw. Taking in an animal without his permission hadn’t been respectful.
