Page 6 of Surrender

“What’s what?” The creature let loose with a piercing wail, and Everett sighed. “I knew Phil would hate this new carrier. Can you please shut the front door while I get him out of there? I don’t want him to run off.”

I hurried to the door while he took off the backpack and freed whatever was trapped inside it. When I returned a few secondslater, he turned to me holding a cat, more or less. The thing was long, skinny, and mostly bald, aside from some wispy patches of gray fur. It looked annoyed, bordering on disgusted, so the happy face T-shirt it wore seemed ironic.

Everett scratched its big ears and spoke to it like he was addressing a person. “Sorry, Phil. I thought this would be the safest way to get you and all your stuff upstairs in one trip, but it must have been weird for you.”

“Is he okay?”

I was referring to that fur situation, but he started to say, “He’s fine. He hated being confined, though. I should have known he…” His words trailed off as we finally made eye contact, and we both frowned in confusion.

Why did he look familiar?

He was an exceptionally good-looking guy, there was no doubt about it. He had short, dark hair and a perfectly groomed short beard, and his eyes were a striking shade of sky blue. He was about an inch taller than me—which never happened, since I was six and a half feet tall—and his build was even more muscular than mine. It was rare to encounter anyone that big. In fact, it had only happened once in recent memory.

Recognition dawned on both of us in the same instant, and I exclaimed, “Sven!”

In the same instant, he blurted, “David!”

This startled the cat, who leapt out of his owner’s arms. As he darted away, Everett called, “Come back, Phil!” To no one’s surprise, this was totally ineffective.

While he hurried after the cat, I scrubbed my hands over my face and cringed at the memory of the night we met. I never thought I’d see him again, and I’d been happy about that. What were the chances we’d not only have a mutual friend, but that he’d end up as my temporary roommate? Clearly, the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

He had to feel as awkward about this as I did, so maybe he’d grab his shit, turn right around again, and go stay somewhere else. That idea perked me up a bit. To speed up this process, I went to help him find Phil.

The apartment was one long rectangle, with the living room and kitchen in the center, flanked by hallways on either side. The cat had run off to the left, and Everett was already searching the home office, so I continued past it to my bedroom.

When I crouched down and looked under the bed, a pair of yellow eyes stared back at me. I got up and called, “Found him.” Everett joined me a moment later, and I stepped back and gestured at the cat’s hiding place. “He’s under there.”

He dropped onto his belly and told the cat, “I know this has been a lot, so take your time, Phil. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to come out.” Then he shifted around so he was sitting cross-legged on the area rug and asked me, “Is this my room?”

“It’s mine, actually. Roger planned for you to use his bedroom, which is at the opposite end of the apartment. But I know this is weird, and I won’t be offended if you decide to stay someplace else.”

“I can’t do that to Phil. He just spent all day cooped up in my SUV, after leaving his home behind. The last thing he needs is another drive and yet another unfamiliar place.”

“No, you’re right.”

Everett looked up at me. “I know the last time we met was a train wreck, and it’s definitely a surprise to see you again. But what happened back in February was nothing more than a series of accidents, right? It’s not like you set out to?—”

“Of course not. I obviously didn’t plan on any of that.”

“Let’s start over. I’m Everett Daley, but most people call me Ever.” When we shook hands, his grip was firm, bordering on overly assertive.

“Tracy Garcia.”

“Good to meet you, Tracy.” He indicated our surroundings and asked, “Did you recently move in?”

“No. I’ve been here about two years.”

“It’s so empty.”

Roger had stripped down his guest room before I moved in, under the assumption that I’d decorate it to suit my taste. But I’d left it exactly like I found it—with nothing but blank, gray walls, a gray-on-gray striped area rug, and a sleek, black bedroom set. The only decorative thing was the chrome lamp on the nightstand, which was Roger’s.

All I said to that was, “I don’t have a lot of stuff.” It was too complicated to explain that no matter how friendly and welcoming Roger had been, this place always felt temporary. Actually, just about everyplace I’d ever lived had felt that way, so what was the point in trying to make it feel like home?

He just nodded. A few moments ticked by, and I asked, “Do you want some help bringing up the rest of your stuff?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I want to focus on Phil for now. Do you mind if I hang out in here until he’s ready to come out from under the bed?”

“That’s fine.”

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