Page 147 of Pack Scratch Fever
The cat flops onto its back, and Poe rubs its dark fluffy belly.
“They have similar personalities,” Maddox supplies. “Ugly and insufferable.”
Poe narrows his eyes at him, then looks back at me. “I realize Whiskey is the one that gave you the infection, so I hope it’s okay with you that I adopted him.”
It takes my mind a minute to process his words. “Whiskey?” I repeat.
“Mister Whiskers,” Avery supplies. “We decided on Whiskey, though.”
I continue to stare at Poe and the cat, my mouth open in shock.
Poe…adopted…Mister Whiskers?
“If you’d prefer he doesn’t stay here…” Poe trails off.
I burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
My scent match, who claimed that cats were pests, has offered a home to the one cat I was concerned would be stuck at the rescue his whole life.
I laugh so hard tears well in my eyes, and suddenly, I’m sobbing like a child.
The stress of the last week leaves my body as I cry like I haven’t in ages.
Someone pulls me into their arms, and then I’m weeping into a broad chest while hands rub my back.
I can’t even apologize for my outburst. The tears don’t stop for what seems like ages.
“We’ve got you,” Maddox promises, his voice low at my ear. “We’ve got you, sweetheart.”
They’ve done so much for me, and I still don’t feel like I deserve it.
When I finally pull away, I look up to meet Poe’s eyes. His arms are the ones wrapped around me tightly, and his shirt is ruined with my tears.
“Let’s get you to your room,” he says quietly. “Take all the time you need.”
Vulnerable and open, I follow him to the nesting room they had set up for me.
When I see it, I have to fight more tears from spilling.
The walls have been painted a calming pale lavender, complete with plush cream blackout curtains for the window. The new canopy bed is roomy and elegant, with soft ivory drapes.
The room is beautiful and comforting.
“We did a bit of upgrading since you’ve been here,” Poe admits. “Avery knows more about color schemes than I do, but supposedly, this is the most calming way to have a room set up.”
I take in the room in disbelief.
It’s a five-star suite compared to my apartment.
“This is all for you,” he adds quietly. “In case you didn’t know by now, there’s only you for us.”
I swallow. I can’t look at him while he speaks, because that ugly, horrible voice is still in my head, saying I don’t deserve this.
“Piper,” he says. “Look at me. It’s just us now.”
I turn around, terrified of what I might find in his eyes.
“I think I know you well enough by now that asking you to move in would be too much,” he says, and I nod. “I’m the same way. I don’t want help ever. Or charity. It’s the worst thing someone could offer me.”
