I shake my head and try to hand the kitten back to her. “No. No, no, and no. I can’t take care of a cat, Ev. I’ve never even owned a cat. Or a dog. Not even a fucking fish, or a plant.”
She flashes a sweet but feisty smile at me. “Well, now you’re the proud owner of a blind cat, and it’s non-negotiable. You need each other. You’re both fucked up. He can eat, drink and use his litter box completely normal. Just put his stuff in a safe place, show him where it all is, and don’t move it.” She stops for a minute and stares at my leg. “Is that blood on your shorts?”
Fuck. I guess I didn’t grab clean shorts when I swapped my jeans for something more comfortable when I got home.
“I cut myself a few days ago,” I answer, not looking at her. I focus on the cat, gently rubbing its head, its purr vibrating against my palm.
“Doing what?”
I raise my eyes to meet hers. “Drop it.” My tone is no longer friendly. She cringes like a good girl and looks away. I can see her struggling with wanting to say something and knowing better than to poke the monster.
I hold the cat closer, who’s rubbing all over my face now, and watch as Evie steps outside the front door and then comes back dragging a large box of cat supplies and leaves it in my foyer.
She looks up at me and gives the cat a quick scratch on the head. “Trust me, Vandal. You’ll thank me for this.”
I gently put the kitten down on the floor and he promptly arches his little back and rubs against my ankles. “I don’t even like you,” I say to Evie. Which is a lie, because I do kinda like her. I’ve slowly gotten used to the fact that even though she can be annoying as hell, she’s a good friend and her heart is in the right place, which is more than I can say about most people.
“I don’t care if you like me or not,” she replies, grinning. “Just like the cat. That’s all. Call or text me if you have any questions. If you have to go away or on tour, I’ll make sure he’s taken care of by either myself, or a pet sitter. Make sure he has food and water all the time and don’t ever let him outside. Okay?”
“Uh … okay?” I can’t believe I’m letting her railroad me into being a pet owner.
“Great. Work your charm, Sterling,” she says to the cat, then turns and leaves me dumbfounded in the kitchen. I run my hands through my long hair and let out a deep breath. I really did not need this shit.
I quickly decide the best thing to do right now is ignore the cat and let it get used to the fact that it’s on its own. Life sucks, even for kittens, apparently. He’ll be safe and fed and that’s obviously better than what he’s used to, so he should just be grateful.
I head back into the living room to resume drinking, and the girl from the cemetery creeps into my mind. I grab my laptop and do a web search for Nick Bennett, his obituary showing up right on the first page of the search results. I sip my Jack Daniels as I scan the obituary for her name. Tabitha. I backspace and search for her name and find her social media page. Evidently, Tabitha’s not big on privacy because her entire profile is wide open for me to see all her status updates, photos, and friends. I hesitate for a moment before clicking on her profile photo, enlarging it to see blond hair tousled around huge, doe-like eyes that a man could easily get lost in. I feel as if those eyes are staring right into mine, and something inside me shifts. In her eyes I see that rare childlike playfulness and sensuality that I’ve been hungering for longer than I can remember, but never opened myself up enough to find. I curse the irony of seeing it in this woman that I have had a hand in destroying. I close the photo and scan down her status updates. The most recent was two weeks ago.
‘I can’t do this. Nothing matters to me anymore. I want to go to sleep forever.’
I nod in agreement at the screen. Yup. Been there. Still there.
Her post has twenty-four likes. Why the fuck would people like that? There’s also a few replies from her friends, saying they’re there for her. I wonder how many of them really are there for her. My guess is not too fucking many.
I scroll down to a post two weeks prior to that.
‘I miss you so much. Life is nothing without you :( ’
And a few days before that.