Page 159 of Pack Scratch Fever
At the word ‘love,’ Piper freezes, and I realize my mistake.
Don’t push her too hard. You’ll scare her away.
But a low meow fills the air, putting a pause on our conversation.
Whiskey stands in the living room, eyeing us warily with his yellow eyes.
“That cat will never cease to amaze me,” she murmurs, giving the cat a few deliberately slow blinks. “Neither will the three of you.”
I chuckle. “Do you want ice cream on your cake? That’s the way my mom used to do it.”
Whiskey jumps onto the top tower of the newly added cat tree in the room, observing us from afar.
“Sure,” Piper says. Her smile is soft, but content. “Whatever way you think is best.”
I can’t believe how nervous I am as I hand her the plate.
I try not to stare as she takes her bite, but when she sighs softly, I let out a relieved breath.
I sit on the stool next to her with my own plate, angling my body so I’m facing her.
“You really loved your mother,” Piper muses thoughtfully.
I nod. “And my father.”
“Tell me about them,” she says, placing her fork down.
I hesitate. “They were…perfect. Always supportive, whether I wanted to do art, sports, or learn more about computers. I couldn’t even be a rebellious teenager, because I had no reason to. They weren’t strict, but they also gave me structure.” I shrug. “Sometimes it seems like they weren’t even real, like I dreamt them up.”
Piper nods, her eyes mournful.
“The first few years after they died, I was a shitty person. You would have hated me,” I chuckle bitterly. “I was violent, angry, and didn’t have anyone else to fall back on. I met Avery my senior year of college, and by then, I had gotten my ass into therapy. A year later we met Poe, and they became my new family.”
Piper looks like she might cry, and I wink at her.
“I’m okay, babe. I promise.” I wave at my black hoodie. “The all-black clothing and nail polish never stopped, though. I guess I’m in a perpetual state of mourning.”
She looks away and stares at her plate, her eyes glassy.
“Avery and Poe are my family, Piper. And now so are you,” I say softly.
Her lip trembles, and I take her hand that was resting on her thigh. I intertwine our fingers, and she stares at our linked hands.
“Family is what you make it, baby,” I say. “After all the shit we’ve been through, we can be each other’s families.”
She quickly wipes a tear that slides down her cheek. “Don’t look at me while I cry,” she mutters, and I laugh and kiss her hand.
“Then don’t cry into your cake. It’s not that bad, is it?”
She turns to glare at me through watery eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”
I laugh harder, and lean in to kiss her, giving her ample time to pull away.
She doesn’t, though. Despite what we did earlier on the couch, this feels much more intimate, even though it’s a chaste kiss.
“I like the idea of being a part of your family,” she admits once she pulls away.
I grin. “I’m glad.”
