“Block his number.” I open the passenger door for her. “He’s toxic, Emily. You don’t owe him anything.”
She turns her head away from me. “It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.” I wait for her to settle, pass her Mixie’s carrier to hold, then circle to the driver’s side. “You got Mixie back. That’s step one.”
As I start the engine, Mixie meows, and Emily slides her fingers through the carrier’s mesh front.The cat nuzzles into her touch, her purrs swelling past the truck’s rumble.
“Step one,” Emily echoes, a small smile forming on her lips as Mixie licks her fingertips.
I pull away from the curb, watching Auren’s perfect house recede in the rearview mirror. He stands in the doorway, a slender figure wrapped in silk, growing smaller with each passing second.
But even as he disappears from view, I’m certain we haven’t seen the last of him.
As I follow Emily into her house, Mixie yowls from the carrier, her small paws batting at the metal door with increasing urgency. Emily kneels on the hardwood entryway, fingers fumbling with the latch, her usual grace abandoned in her haste to free her cat.
When the grate swings open, Mixie hesitates for three heartbeats, nose twitching as she samples the air, before stepping onto familiar territory.
“Welcome home, sweet girl,” Emily whispers, her hands trembling. “I hope she remembers.”
Mixie’s ears swivel forward at the sound, her green eyes fixing on Emily’s face with unmistakablerecognition. She stretches her neck to bump her head against Emily’s hand, then turns to survey the living room, tail held high like a question mark.
“She does.” I pick up the carrier. “Where do you keep her things?”
Emily rises from her crouch, watching as Mixie takes tentative steps toward the couch. “Hall closet. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of anything.”
Her admission hangs in the air between us, revealing more than words about the pain of these past months. How many times had she opened the closet, seen Mixie’s things, and closed the door again, hope dying a little more each day?
“Show me?”
Emily leads me down the hallway, past the guest room where I slept last night, to a narrow door I hadn’t noticed before. When she pulls it open, the scent of cedar drifts out. Inside, stacked on shelves, sits a cat bed with a crocheted cover, ceramic food and water bowls painted with fish, a scratching post with frayed corners, a basket of toys, and folded blankets.
Emily’s hand hovers over a catnip mouse, not quite touching it. “I kept thinking he’d change his mind and realize she belonged with me.”
Beneath the words, I hear the silent hope:thathebelonged with me.
I reach past her, our arms brushing, and set the carrier on the floor for storage before lifting the scratching post. “Let’s set these up. Make it feel like home again.”
We work in silence, arranging Mixie’s belongings around the living room. Emily places the food bowls in the kitchen, filling one with fresh water. I position the scratching post near the couch, where claw marks on the arm suggest it once stood before.
Emily unfolds a blue blanket that matches the throw pillows, shaking it out before draping it over the window seat.
“This was her favorite place to nap,” she explains, smoothing the fabric with careful fingers. “She used to knead it for ten minutes before settling down.”
Mixie hovers in the hallway, her tail swishing across the floor while we get everything ready.
I open the basket from the closet. “Should we put out some of the toys?”
“Yeah.” She selects a feather wand and a small ball with a bell inside. “These were her favorites.”
I arrange them near the cat bed while Emily fetches the food Auren sent.
Her nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar food brand. “He switched her diet. She always had stomach issues with fish flavors.”
“Do you have her old food?”
“In the pantry. It’s probably stale.” Emily disappears into the kitchen, returning with a sealed container. “I kept everything. You probably think I was crazy.”
“Not crazy,” I correct her. “Hopeful.”