Chapter 17
WINSTON
The walls in this house are far too thin.
From my perch in the hallway, tail swishing like a metronome, I hear the muffled sounds coming from Scott’s room. Holly’s laughter. Her sighs and moans. The rhythmic creak of the bed frame that makes my ears flatten and my claws sink into the carpet.
I don’t need to see what’s happening. I know. And I don’t approve.
That brute thinks he’s won, shutting the door on me as if he can shut me out of her heart. As if my years of loyalty, of curling beside her through heartbreak and long nights, can be undone in a single evening of sweat and noise.
I pace. I growl. The new queen cat, curled up smugly in the center of the bed, opens one blue eye at me as if to say, calm yourself. Easy for her—she doesn’t know what’s at stake.
But I know. Holly is my human. My world.
I leap onto the dresser, crouching low, listening. The sounds grow louder, and with every moan, I swear I lose another life. I swipe at a framed photo of me and Holly, sending it crashing to the floor.
Still, no one emerges. The door stays shut. Their voices blend into whispers and sighs.
Oh, the agony if Holly has finally found the one man who won’t let her down.
Oh, the loneliness I’ll have to face if she now has to split her time between me and Jerk-face.
Although… I’m not alone, am I?
I narrow my eyes at my queen, my tail curling like a question mark. I stalk toward her, suave and purposeful. She can’t resist a hunk of male feline like me.
Like what you see, my queen? Guess what? You’re all mine.
She slowly blinks her blue eyes as if saying About time.
So maybe Scott isn’t so bad, bringing me a hottie like Duchess. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The scoreboard in my head adjusts again: Cat 3, Scott 3. Tie game.