Page 20 of Absolutely Pucked
CHAPTER
SIX
FORD
“Please eat the food.It’s tuna flavor. It’s basically the same thing as salmon.”
Nugget stared at me like I was asking her to eat a pile of dog shit. She leaned over the plate, then did that creepy cat-gag face and turned, leaving it entirely untouched. It wasn’t like I could blame her. All wet cat food smelled like it had been canned in the bowels of the worst ring of hell, but they all smelled the same.
Apparently, I was not as sophisticated as she was.
Taking the plate, I dumped it into the trash and stared at my car keys. There were only two pet stores that sold the brand she liked, and the one within reasonable driving distance from me was no longer carrying the fucking salmon flavor.
“You know you aren’t the boss of me, right?”
“Are you talking to me?” A moment later, Jonah appeared in the kitchen archway, one hand on the wall, the other holding Nugget, who had leapt into his arms and was now purring. He wasn’t wearing his prosthetics,so his eyelids were squinted shut, his long, dark lashes fanning downward.
“No. I was talking to the picky-as-fuck asshole you’re cuddling,” I said. “She won’t eat the goddamn tuna flavor, and the store that carries salmon is like an hour away.”
“So be a good little butler and go fetch,” he said, leaning down to nose along the top of her head. She was purring so loudly I could hear it from where I was standing. “You can’t tell this face no.”
He wasn’t wrong. From the moment I saw her, wet and filthy with her eyes gummed shut, shivering under a stack of wooden shipping crates, I hadn’t been able to do anything except spoil her. But God, how quickly she forgot what it was like to live on the streets.
The little shit.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked, grabbing my keys off the counter.
Jonah sighed and let Nugget slide out of his arms. “Yeah, but can we stop by that one place with all the cheap-as-fuck home décor?”
“You taking up decorating in your spare time?” I asked him. Grabbing my walking cane off the wall, I tucked it under my arm before grabbing his.
He flipped me off as he felt around the counter for his phone and house keys. “First of all, fuck you. It’s ableist to think I couldn’t be a badass home designer. Secondly, no. But I’m tired of people complaining that my place looks boring.”
I rolled my eyes as I tapped the back of his hand with the ball of his cane. He snatched it off me andshoved it into his back pocket before reaching for my arm. “Why do you give a shit what people think?”
He huffed a sigh. “I don’t know. I’m a delicate soul.”
I shoved him into the wall as we headed for the door, and he burst into laughter, clipping me behind the knee as I attempted to step over the threshold. It took everything in my balance and his not to tumble into the grass, but it felt good to be outside and acting normal for a bit.
Shit was changing left and right, and I was feeling a little off-center. The only good man in my life had been in it less than a few hours, and I’d woken up alone on a strange sofa with congealed fried food on the table and the ghost of Ian’s kisses on my lips.
I hadn’t told anyone about him. I’d nearly gotten the courage to do it, but before I could come clean, Boden had a goddamn breakdown over Hugo, and it was easier to pin my problems to the wall. Mostly because they weren’t problems at all.
“I’m actually being serious,” Jonah said as we righted ourselves and headed for my car. “I need to spruce up my place. I can’t expect to get into a serious relationship while living like a bachelor.”
I glanced at him after sliding into the driver’s seat. “So what? You want some fuckin’ tea towels or something?”
“I don’t know. I had Chelsea over at my place the other day?—”
“Which one is Chelsea?”
“The hot one,” he said with a sniff.
I scoffed. “A, I’m gay as fuck, so my idea of hot one isn’t the same as yours.”
“Well, dude, in case you forgot, I’m literally totally blind, so I don’t actually know what she looks like. And I never gave a shit, so I never asked. She works concessions on Thursday nights if you’ve seen her there.”
“Do you think I actually drink that piss beer and eat those nachos?” I asked him. I didn’t go to a lot of his games either. It wasn’t personal, but they shared an arena with the Boston NHL team, so it was always full, and I was not a fan of crowds.
