Page 36 of Back to You
Chapter 12
March came in like a lion, that was for damn sure. A huge peal of thunder boomed so loudly that it shook the old windows in their panes. One of the cats hissed in fear, and a blur of black streaked through the living room. There was a clatter down the hall, like she’d just slammed head-first into a trash can, and another yowl.
“That sounded painful,” Dane said.
“Think I should go check on her? I’m pretty sure it was Coffee.” Out of all the cats that Grandma Gin had rescued, Coffee was the smallest. She was a skittish, nervous little thing that never quite seemed to shake the stray from her wild soul, not even after having her kittens. And if there was one thing Coffee hated, it was thunder.
“You know how she gets during storms, Hollister,” Grandma Gin replied. “You’ll only get yourself scratched up if you try to comfort her. Don’t you worry about her. She’ll hide till it passes, and besides, the movie isn’t over. Do you boys have any more popcorn over there?”
Dane and I peered into the plastic bowl that just happened to be a repurposed ice cream tub. All that was left was crunchy, half-popped pieces and greasy kernels. “Sorry, Gran. We were hungry.” I laughed. “Want me to make another bag?”
“No, no, that’s fine. The good part’s just about to start.”
It was Dane’s idea to have a movie night. The three of us had popped a couple bags of microwave popcorn and spent the rainy evening sitting around Grandma Gin’s fuzzy old TV.
It was about as ancient as she was. You know, the kind with the metal rabbit-ears on top to pick up signal? I smiled to myself. Probably something Calvin had bought her brand new, back in the good old days. I couldn’t tarnish his memory by bringing in a flatscreen, even if I wanted to.
Dane bumped his shoulder against mine. In the dim light of the television screen, I could make out his smile. I reached over and threaded my fingers in between his.
For some odd reason, my world felt complete. Me and Dane and Grandma Gin—and eleven crazy cats. It was like something out of a comedy sitcom. One big, happy family.
On Dane’s lap, snoring away, was Custard. The cranky old bastard had really taken a shine to Dane in a way that I’d never seen before. He normally gave strangers a wide berth, but here he was, living the life.
Alabama, Toki and Latte were cozied in a kitty pile on the other end of the couch. Queenie had perched herself on the back of Grandma Gin’s chair, while blind and deaf old Mrs. White slept in her lap. Gran would never admit it, but Mrs. White was her favorite, I knew.
Sprawled out next to my hip in a ying-and-yang were the Siamese siblings. Lordly Cappuccino was nowhere to be found. He was probably on my bed, king of all he surveyed, while his littermate and hellion of a brother Mocha took up residence on one of the windowsills. He liked watching the rain.
Which left their mother. Poor, scaredy-cat Coffee. Grandma Gin was right, though. If I went searching for her, it’d be a recipe for disaster—and probably a couple of stitches. She was likely tucked away in her hidey-hole under the bathroom cupboard, where she’d stay until the storm passed and everyone went to bed.
I dropped my head onto Dane’s shoulder and turned my attention back to the movie. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier, but I wasn’t ready to give up the ghost. I was too comfortable.
A little while later, Dane nudged me again. “Look.” I glanced over at Grandma Gin to see her nodding off. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and the hand that was petting Mrs. White had come to still on the old cat’s back.
“She does that,” I whispered. Soft, snuffling snores filled the room in the quietest part of the movie. It wasn’t long before her head popped up and she looked around, as if disoriented. “Gran? You okay?”
“Oh. Hum. Of course, child. I must’ve dozed off. I should probably call it a night before I get a kink in this old neck of mine.” She scooped up the fragile, white-furred cat in her arms and rose to her feet. She placed Mrs. White on the chair and covered her with the throw blanket she’d been using. She reached for her cane, then shuffled across the room, pausing at the end of the couch. “You boys don’t stay up too late now. Goodnight.”
“Night, Gran.”
“Night, Gran,” Dane parroted, and her chuckle followed her down the hall. “She’s sweet. You’re a very lucky guy.”
“I am,” I agreed, cuddling back into his warmth.
When the credits rolled across the screen, I stretched and blinked my tired eyes. I turned the TV off with the remote, then fumbled through the darkness until I could hit the light switch. The lamp in the corner gave off a cozy glow.
“I have work in the morning.” I wrinkled my nose. “You wanna sleep over?” It was becoming routine now. I loved waking up with a man in my bed, especially when that man was Dane Fisher.
He grinned. “I’d love to.”
Flipping the light back off, I took him by the hand and led him down the hallway in the dark. With only lightning flashes to guide our way, we shed our clothes and crawled beneath the covers. I pressed myself flush against him, kissing his jaw. In turn, he murmured sweet-nothings in my ear.
We fell asleep listening to the wind howl against the house, banging the shutters against the worn-out siding.
We woke to the sound of cats yowling.
I rolled over and glanced at the clock. Not quite dawn. Grandma Gin was an early riser. She usually got up before the sun and did her crosswords with a cup of tea. Did she forget to feed them when she woke up? Still… It wasn’t the normal kitty-chorus of yammers and meows as they begged for their breakfast. It was different. Almost eerie, somehow.
Dane sat up in bed beside me. “They sound upset.”
