Page 48 of Boulder's Weight

As if on cue, one of the tabbies jumps up on the pastry display, batting curiously at the empty tray.

"Off, Jasper," Astra scolds gently, lifting the cat and setting him on the floor. "You know better."

In the week I've been working here, I've grown to admire Astra's dedication to these animals.

She doesn't just run a café—she gives these cats a second chance at life.

"So," Astra says, turning back to me, "any plans for tonight? Hot date with Boulder maybe…"

I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "No. Things are... complicated with him."

"Complicated is the middle name of every club member I've ever met," she says with a laugh. "But that one has itbadfor you. Even when he was pissed, I could see it in his eyes."

I busy myself with organizing the tea canisters, avoiding her gaze.

I'm careful about personal details, even with Astra.

Trust doesn't come easily for me anymore.

"Tell me more about the cats," I say, deliberately changing the subject. "How did you start all this?"

Astra gives me a knowing look but doesn't push. "I got tired of seeing them hurt and abandoned." She points to a small cat curled up in the window seat. "Found her behind a dumpster, barely alive. The vet said she'd probably been abused."

I look at Luna, now peacefully sleeping in a patch of late afternoon sun.

It’s hard to imagine that in her past, she was suffering, looking at her now.

Astra's voice softens. "Now we rescue from all over—strays, abuse cases, abandoned pets. We rehabilitate them here, and customers can adopt if they connect with one. There are a few that will likely stay here until the day they die, but… I’m not mad about it. At least they’re safe."

"That's beautiful," I say sincerely, my eyes scanning the room.

Each cat has a story, just like me.

All of us running from something, finding sanctuary in this quiet corner of Chihuahua.

My attention is drawn to a gray cat lurking under one of the tables, eyes wide and wary.

Unlike the others, who are grooming themselves or dozing, this one seems on alert, like it’s afraid of everything and believes threats lurk around every corner.

"Who's that?" I ask, nodding toward the gray cat.

"That's our newest rescue," Astra says, following my gaze. "No name yet. Found her hiding in a storm drain last week. She won't let anyone touch her."

I kneel down slowly, extending my hand palm-up on the floor, not reaching for the cat but offering a choice.

The gray cat watches me, tail twitching nervously.

"She reminds me of someone," I murmur.

"You?" Astra asks perceptively.

I look up, surprised by her insight. "Maybe a little."

Astra's smile is gentle but knowing. "I've noticed you have a way with the skittish ones. They trust you."

"Recognizing a kindred spirit, probably," I say, watching as the gray cat inches closer to my outstretched hand, curiosity battling fear in those wide green eyes.

"What would you name her?" Astra asks.

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