Page 4 of Hold Him Like Gravity

“Alright,” she agreed, but followed me out to the front of the shop, then waited for me to open the door to let the contractors in, only to step in their way.

“Are you going to move or what?” she asked, making me snort as Anthony Costa stepped too far to the side and whacked himself against the frame in the process.

“She’s charming, right, guys?” I asked, getting some chuckles from them and two middle fingers from Saff as she walked backward out of the door, shooting me a smile.

“Ready for us to get to work?” Anthony asked as he moved inside.

Some part of me was concerned about being closed down for a week to get this place redone. Worried that I would lose business. Like it fucking mattered.

The thing was… it kind of did.

And for someone who’d been a ‘family’ man for his whole life, it was weird as fuck to care about anything else.

“Yep,” I agreed.

CHAPTER TWO

Kick

“Hold on, you little jerk,” I called through my apartment door as I stabbed my key in the lock.

Through it, I could hear the long, plaintive wail of a cat who sounded like his tail was caught in a garbage disposal.

“You’re going to wake up the whole building,” I called, slamming and locking my door, tossing my keys into the bowl, then rushing across the apartment with my purse still on my shoulder.

I yanked open the window, letting the cat in off of the fire escape.

He wasn’t mine.

Or, maybe, he was?

Honestly, I had no idea what he did after his shrieking made me stumble out of bed at dawn to open the window and let him back out onto the fire escape.

Maybe he had a home, people who fed and loved on him. That he didn’t scratch to shit each time they tried to touch him.

Or maybe he was a street cat who found a sucker in me, who enjoyed some premium cat food, a saucer of milk, and a warm—or cold—place to hide from the elements for a bit.

I didn’t know.

It didn’t matter.

“Evander,” I said, nodding at the tortie cat as he made his way in, half-bitten off ear and all.

Admittedly, he’d gotten rather tubby since I’d been feeding him. But, hey, winter was upon us. We could all use some extra padding to get through the cold. Or, at least, that was what I’d been telling myself each night I got home to make myself three grilled cheese sandwiches that I may or may not have followed up with ice cream bars in front of my TV.

“Do you need to shriek?” I asked him as he leapt up onto the counter to sit and stare at his empty bowl. “I clearly wasn’t home yet,” I added, walking to put my purse on the hook, reaching inside for the cash tips I’d gotten but hadn’t had a chance to tally at work.

One-ten.

Not bad, considering my job wasn’t exactly the kind that required tips. What can I say? I learned from a young age that if you chatted up the older neighborhood guys, they were happy to slip an extra twenty to you just for being nice to them.

Kind of pathetic, if you ask me, but, hey, it kept the very expensive cat food in Evander’s stomach. While I ate plastic ‘cheese’ on cheap white bread.

“Really?” I asked as I heard something fly off the counter and clatter to the ground. “I’m coming. Jesus.”

I opened up his can of wet cat food that always made me gag a little, then plopped it down into the bowl I’d found myself popping into the pet store for after the third night he’d shown up at my window. Along with a bed. And some toys. He hated the bed. And preferred to entertain himself by shredding the side of my couch with his viciously sharp nails.

“Happy?” I asked as he moved in to start eating. “It’s not like you really need it, you chonk,” I said as I grabbed the milk and poured some into the other side of his bowl.

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