“You’re weirdly chill about this,” I say, zipping the bag halfway before realizing I forgot socks and opening it again.
“I’m not chill,” he replies.
I glance through my bedroom door and into the living room. He’s crouched near the couch. And-
“Oh my god.”
He’s guiding Pip into his cat carrier, giving my little guy a scratch behind the ears like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“What are you doing?” I ask, blinking like that’ll make this all make more sense.
“Relocating a high-value asset,” he says evenly.
I stare at him. “Alex.”
He glances up at me, completely unfazed. “What?”
“That is not-” I start like I need to remind him that my cat isn’t a political delegator in a hostile, warn-torn country.
“He’s coming with us,” he cuts in.
Not like I was arguingthat. I open my mouth just to close it again. Not the time.
“How’d you know where to find Pip’s carrier?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out; you keep his things in the cat stairs by the window.”
Smart ass.
I shake my head, a breath escaping that sounds dangerously close to hysterical. “This is insane.”
“Yeah,” he agrees easily. No argument or sugarcoating, just the truth. Then he holds his hand open for Pip to see. A small pile of treats lays in the center of his palm. Cheater.
My cat immediately gives up any idea of an escape attempt, turning toward him with full interest.
“You’re bribing him,” I accuse.
“Strategic negotiation,” he corrects.
I huff a quiet laugh despite everything, despite the fear crawling under my skin, and despite the fact that less than an hour ago, I was in my living room thinking everything was fine.
Now I’m watching a special victims unit detective gently coax my cat into a carrier like this is just another Tuesday.
“He doesn’t like new places,” I say, softer now.
He glances at me again. “I’ll handle it.”
Something about the way he says it, not dismissively or arrogant, just steady, settles something deep within me. He guides Pip into the carrier with careful hands, closing the door gently once he’s inside. He protests for about half a second before finding more treats inside and settling, clearly deciding this is worth being confined.
“See?” Alex assures, standing back up.
I shake my head again, grabbing my bag and finally zipping it closed. “Show off.”
He picks up the carrier like it’s nothing then looks at me. “You ready?”
No, not even a little bit. But “yeah,” seems easier. Because standing here isn’t safer, not anymore.
The gates open before we even fully stop at them, like they were waiting for us. I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that nor the curved driveway lined with trees that look like they’ve never known neglect and lead to a house that doesn’t even look real.
