He shakes his head. His face is back to rugged and rigid as he gives me a no-nonsense look under his brows. “I didn’t trust your mom. Her hearing wasn’t at its best. I had her alarm connected to her wifi, so if it went off, we’d be notified immediately.”
From him holding kittens, to making sure mothers stay safe: ovaries initiate implosion.
“Oh…” I hate that with every reveal of new information, I seem to react in this dumbfounded way. “That is a good idea, and I guess I should say thanks.”
The right corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re very welcome.”
I stare a few seconds longer than I should and then regain my composure. “Secondly, who is Soot?”
Caiden moves closer, not seeming to realize that I have a perimeter bubble that needs to be intact whenever he’s near. He pops it into oblivion, almost putting us chest to chest, or chest to stomach, if you consider his height. He plops the cat in my arms. “This is Soot.”
He moves him closer, and the cat lifts its head to sniff at my lips and nose before rubbing all over my face. When I blink up at Caiden, he’s smiling dopily. He’s smitten with this kitten. And I mean the one in my arms.
“Oh-em-gee. This is YOUR cat, isn’t it?”
He shakes his head guiltily. “No. No, it isn’t. He was your mom’s.”
He, interesting.
I shake my head right back, and I can’t help my mouth hanging open accusingly. “You’ve been feeding this cat, haven’t you?”
“Uh…” He bobs on his heavy boots, trying to think up an excuse, but the tight pout of his lips has me thinking he doesn’t have one. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe I have.”
Soot has taken up residence in my arms as he tries to nestle his paws into the crease of my elbow before setting his chin on my arm and purring.
“I can’t believe you right now. You’ve been sneaking onto the porch every morning, haven’t you? You’ve been feeding this cat. I-I-I s-seriously cannot believe you right now.”
“I jog in the mornings and do it then. I was gonna tell you eventually. A couple of times, I considered knocking just to say hi, but…” He clicks his tongue. “I wasn’t ready.”
“You weren’t ready?”
He twists his lips as he scratches the top of Soot’s head in my arms. “Yeah, I wasn’t ready. Can we drop it, please?”
I smirk. “So, are you gonna continue feeding him?”
His mouth stretches wide. “I think it’s time we share custody and you take your turn taking care of him.”
“Did you just refer to this cat as our love child?”
He laughs. “Stop being weird. Also, Soot likes it inside at night, so I’d prefer it if you let him in.”
“Are we delegating our child’s needs and requirements for its living situation now?”
He grunts, rolling his eyes as he starts walking toward the front of the porch. I trail behind him without stirring the cat in my arms, although I’m reeling with giggles over his dismay.
The boys see us coming and take it as their cue to start climbing back into the truck.
“So, what does our child like to eat?”
“Hailey,” he whines, and the tight curve to his lips tells me he doesn’t mind reprimanding me. “He likes a can of wet food in the morning. Dry food during the day.”
“Got it.” I nod, still desperately trying to stop my laughter. “When do you get custody of our munchkin, then?” I find myself hilarious and like I’m losing my mind. The two come hand in hand, I think.
Caiden doesn’t hesitate, swiveling around as if he’s had an epiphany. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be coming around. We have lots to talk about, remember? We’ll start with chapter one.”
My laughter ceases as I pale. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re starting new, Caid. Let’s drop the past.”
His eyebrows rise comically. “Not happening.” He leans forward, and I’m petrified again, of all the things he might want to say in regard to my book, because hell, I know I said a lot of the things I couldn’t say out loud in the book. He probably knows that.
He places the fire extinguisher that I forgot he’s been wielding on the porch. “Should I leave this here in case you decide to cook again?”
My scowl is back. “I suggest you leave. I’d hate for our child to witness our first domestic dispute.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re something else.” He turns around, carrying his fire extinguisher with him as he blindly waves at me. “See you at the fair, Hails. We’ll talk there, yeah?”
Another question not requiring an answer.
He climbs into the truck, and the boys wave me off through the windows as they leave.
I scratch the back of Soot’s head, his purring roars within my arms at the touch.
“Chapter one, indeed,” I hum as I wander back inside my nearly smoke-free house in search of my notebook, a pen, and a glass of wine.
Chapter Six
I’ve been sitting in my car in the dirt parking lot a lot longer than I intended. I’m too anxious to enter the fair knowing it’s for my mother’s memorial, and also because I know everyone from PineCrest will be here. It’s such a public setting for something that feels so somber, but I try to remember it’s a celebration of life. Her life.
I can see the glow of the white country lights strung among the trees and lampposts, along with the colorful gleam of the Ferris wheel and small carnival rides surrounding it next to the buzzing dance floor. I can even hear the hum of bass from the band.
My phone buzzes with a text message. It’s CeeCee.
I tense, because for once I don’t want to be accountable for much tonight. Am I going to cry when they say my mom’s name over the loudspeaker? Or will I sit stoic and indifferent? Will people hate me for the latter?
I haven’t showered in two days because I hate being in the upstairs bathroom. I cry every time I’m there, and I’m so sick of it. Especially the moment I walk into the hallway and see all the doors closed, including the one to my old bedroom and my mother’s. The closed doors feel like a metaphor for my life, like each door represents a choice I need to make, but I don’t know what the doors mean even though I know what lies behind each.
I should be studied in the name of science for “insecure girl syndrome.”
I climb out of the car, suffering from the diagnosis of myself as I smooth over my jean shorts and tug down my flannel shirt. I wanted to try and fit in, but couldn’t say no to my combat boots. Never.
I follow the sounds of the band, knowing that’s where I’ll find my friends. I tell myself seeing them will make me feel better.
I had been running off the high of my interaction with Caiden for a solid twenty-four hours, but that soon faded, and I hate how it feels like drug withdrawal.
Strolling up to the open plaza, I run a hand through my blonde waves. I take in the throngs of townspeople dancing and the stage that sits about five feet off the ground with a band offering their own indie twang to rock and roll. I smile because I remember this cozy feeling. The one with the soothing evening warmth that hangs in the air and the buzz of the music wrapping around me every summer.