Page 59 of Stray for You

“He’s just friendly,” I reply. “I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t gotten adopted yet. He’s young and loves people.”

“He lovesyou,” River says.

Indeed, when River attempts to pet the cat, Tux abruptly jumps back to his feet, hiding his belly. He struts away, annoyed.

“See?” River says. “You should adopt him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know anything about taking care of a cat. And I live alone in a little apartment. He might be lonely.”

“He won’t. He’s your soul animal, man. He’ll be happy just being in your space, trust me. You’re his human. He doesn’t want anyone else.”

I want to refute him, but when I think about it, I struggle to find the words to do it. The longer I search my memory, the harder it becomes to think of a time when Tux was friendly with a customer. He mostly hides behind the coffee bar. Often, he’ll sneak out after a crowd or class leaves and demand my attention.

I rub at my temple. I can’t worry about a cat right now. I have enough to worry about with humans.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it,” I say in an attempt to placate River.

He shrugs, but lets it go, likely because he’s eager to leave as well. I’m with him on that. I clean as quickly as I can after I close up the café for the evening, then rush out of there. I need to figure out what Mom needs, then go home and deal with the whole Julian … thing.

He can’t be serious about us being together. We’ve been at each other’s throats for most of our lives. Plus there’s the whole thing with our moms dating. It’s ludicrous to think it could work, even if this week has been kind of fun. Things would be different if it wasn’t a vacation, if it was real life.

I’m a bundle of nerves as I drive to Aunt Mary’s place. I pull up beside the curb and hurry inside before I can spend too long hesitating. Immediately, the smell of something mouth-watering hits my nose and stomach.

I follow the scent toward the kitchen, but hit the living room first. I stop short when I spot Mom relaxing on the couch.

“Oh, you’re out here,” I say. “I thought you were cooking. Whatever it is, it smells amazing.”

She rises from the couch and rounds it to hug me. The moment before she reaches me, I notice a slanted smile on her lips, but I don’t have time to wonder about it before she’s squeezing me tight.

“How have you been, Cameron?” she says.

“Since a few days ago? I mean, pretty much the same.”

She studies me with the only eyes in the world that perfectly mirror my own. Something in her gaze sets off an alarm in the back of my brain.

“Where’s Aunt Mary?” I say. “Is she cooking?”

“No, she’s out today.”

“Then…”

Maybe Mom left something to simmer on its own in a pot. I almost believe that, but then something clatters in the kitchen, and I go stiff with tension. There is someone here besides her,and she hasn’t told me who it is beforehand. What the hell is going on?

“What did you need help with?” I ask slowly.

“It’s in the kitchen,” she says.

My suspicion only deepens. Whatever she brought me here for has to do with a stranger in the kitchen, a stranger she kept hidden as long as possible.

“Mom…”

“Oh, just go already,” she says.

Then she shoves me toward the kitchen. I stumble forward a couple steps. She doesn’t follow, just stands in the living room with her arms crossed under her chest, scowling at me in a way that brooks no argument.

I hesitate as I near the kitchen, unsure what I might find inside. For half a heartbeat, I think it could even be my father, but that’s ridiculous. The bastard hasn’t contacted us in years. He’s not going to start now.

What I find instead drops my jaw to the floor.

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