on the sweet boy, but I want him to have faith in me, too.
“I’ll need you to be brave and wait here for her. You lie down, and I’ll go find our kitten. You try and think of a name. We can’t keep calling her kitty. Can you do that for me?”
He puffs out his chest a little. “I can do that.”
“I knew you could.” I kiss his chubby cheek. “If you’re asleep before I get back, I’ll put her in bed with you.” He throws his arms around me and hugs me tight. I hug him back. There’s no way I can come back here without this kitty. Even if I have to ask Cato for help, I will. There isn’t anything I wouldn't do for Carter. Even if it means that I have to play nice with Cato.
“Love you.” He says before releasing me. A knot forms in my throat. It’s the first time he’s said it to me. I’ve said it to him hundreds of times already. No one has said those words to me in a very long time, and I welcome them with open arms.
“I love you, too.”
He lies down, and I can’t help but give him another kiss before I pull myself from his bedroom and leave the door cracked for him. I head back toward my room to put some sneakers on. Before I’d talked him into finally getting into bed, I’d already searched most of the house.
I’m worried the kitten might have gotten out. I need to do a check outside. If the kitten is still inside, then it’s trapped and safe, but if she got out, she could be getting farther and farther from the house with each minute.
I make my way back downstairs. I find myself stopping outside the doors of Cato’s office and wondering if he’s in there. He joined us for dinner like he always does but left after we all were finished eating. I hate the disappointment I’d felt about that. I am still avoiding him, so it works in my favor. But he said he wasn't going to let me avoid him anymore. So what exactly is he doing now?
I pull myself away from the doors even though I want to know what he’s doing. I have more important things to do, like find a kitten. I don’t want him to catch me lingering outside his office, either. He’d never let me hear the end of that, I’m sure.
When he’d brought that kitten into the room and kneeled down on the floor with us, I had the biggest urge to lean over and kiss him right on the mouth. My mind is playing games with me. He has me all twisted up inside. My emotions are everywhere. We aren't some happy family. I can’t let my mind make those mistakes. I will not develop Stockholm syndrome.
I open the back door and step out onto the porch. The back looks well lit. I call for the cat a few times but nothing. Typical cat. I take another few steps out farther. I look back into the house. Maybe I should get Cato. I never did like the dark.
“You can do this yourself,” I reassure myself. What other choice do I have? I don’t want to ask him to help. He’d probably be amused at my fear of the dark. I would have to admit weakness to him, and I’m not prepared to do any more of that. He’s already seen me in the most vulnerable of times.
I know the fear is irrational, but it’s one that I’ve had since I was a girl hiding under the bed thinking I was about to die. I hate it. It makes me weak. Here I am saying I want to ruin a man like Cato, but I’m scared of the damn dark.
I stand up a little straighter and make myself venture out farther into the night, calling for the kitten. I freeze when I think I hear a meowing sound. I turn my attention toward the noise. It seems to be venturing farther from the house and toward the vineyard area. I’ve come out here a few times with Carter. The vineyard is endless. It’s also the last place I want to be in the dark. Of course, the kitten couldn’t choose a well-lit area to roam off to.
“Kitty. Here, kitty.” My call is met with another meow. I squint and think I see the kitten down one of the