“I need you to help me move the good furniture into a storage unit before your father comes and collects it.”
“What? You want me to close Uncle Jim’s business so I can help youmove furniture?Mom, just hire someone!” I snapped.
Cash ducked his head at my harsh tone and curled in on himself. I wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it.
I took a deep breath and counted to three again, and when I spoke I made sure my tone was even. “Mom, I can’t leave.”
My mother sighed dramatically. “I sometimes wonder why we bothered having you,” she said.
I didn’t even flinch at that—it wasn’t the first time she’d said something similar, and it had lost most of its sting by this point. I knew that I was a disappointment, okay? I didn’t need her to rub it in. But I’d annoyed her and she was trying to get a rise out of me in return. I’d seen it in action in my parents’ marriage for as long as I could remember—Mom sent out increasingly sharp barbs, and I ignored them, just like my father did. The difference was, I didn’t flirt with her old sorority sister weeks later for revenge.
Mom wasn’t dissuaded by my lack of reaction. She never was. “I mean, what good are you? First, you won’t get your real estate license, and now you won’t even take the time to move a few little items for me. You really are your father’s son—completely useless.”
Okay, so that one was a hit. “Mom?—”
But she’d already ended the call.
When I glanced up, Cash’s mouth was pinched in a thin line, and he was scowling at the phone with an expression that reminded me of his twin.
“She shouldn’t say that,” he whispered fiercely.
I took a breath. “They’re getting a divorce,” I said. “Mom’s not taking it well—well, neither of them are—and she’s mad I won’t take sides. She doesn’t mean it.”
Or maybe she did; I didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure I even cared.
Cash’s scowl deepened. “That doesn’t matter. Your parents are meant to love you, no matter what.”
And suddenly, I knew he wasn’t just talking about me. I set the kitten I’d been holding back in the carrier and held my arms wide. Cash put his own kitten down, swallowing thickly, and then pressed his face into the crook of my neck as his arms wrapped around me. I wasn’t sure who was comforting who right now and it didn’t really matter. It had been too long since anyone had cared enough to hold me like this—my own parents included.
My eyes burned, and a wet sound escaped me. Cash’s grip tightened, and he hugged me silently until I got myself under control. It took longer than I liked to admit. When I finally let out a long, shuddering breath, he lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed at me intently.
“Sorry,” I said. “I thought I was past letting them get a reaction out of me, but I guess not.”
He paused in the way he did when his words were acting slippery, and I waited. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Chase always says our folks were methed up. Like it’s a joke. But it’s not, not really.”
My heart clenched at the words that said so little and yet, at the same time, said everything. I’d seen the scars—literally. And I wanted to say something, to tell him he didn’t deserve whatever had happened to him and his brother growing up that had made him too afraid to even open his mouth, but for once I was the one who couldn’t summon up the words.
Cash must have been able to read my expression, though, because he gave a shrug and said, “Some families just suck.”
He picked up the orange kitten and cradled it against his chest.
“Yeah,” I said and picked up my own kitten to cuddle, because honestly, what was better therapy than a kitten?
We sat there for a while after we’d fed the kittens, Dog watching on placidly like nobody had ever told him that old cliche about dogs chasing cats. I let the calm of Cash’s quiet presence and the cuteness overload of the kittens steal over me, and it felt like, hell, maybe this was still an okay day after all. And then I thought of how Cash had woken up all sleepy and relaxed, and what we’d done after that, and revised my opinion to today being a great day, actually, if I wanted it to be. My mom’s words were still filtering around in the back of my brain, but I pushed them away and ignored them.
Not today.
Keys rattled in the front door and shortly afterward Kayla sailed past the treatment room door toward the kitchen. She was back a moment later, though, because she was a sucker for the little tuxedo kitten. I was ninety percent sure she was planning to adopt her—she just hadn’t admitted it yet. I handed the kitten over and Kayla scooped her up, making nonsense noises and cooing as she pressed a kiss to the kitten’s head.
Cash and I exchanged a look, and I bit back a smile.
Kayla was definitely adopting this cat.
We spent a few more minutes in the treatment room before Cash’s gaze flicked to the wall clock, and he sighed and put his kitten back in the carrier. I did the same with mine and then followed him toward the front door, where he scooped up his backpack and paused.
“See you tonight?” I asked.
He nodded and whispered, “Yeah.”
