22. Chaotic Surprises
Chapter 22
Chaotic Surprises
T he days since Ethan's departure felt like they were moving through molasses. I'd gotten into a routine of sorts - helping Nina with inventory, feeding Melody, definitely not checking my phone every five minutes for messages. The memories came and went like radio stations fading in and out of tune - sometimes crystal clear, sometimes just static and frustration.
Today found me at the town clearing, knee-deep in Harvest Festival preparations. Mrs. Henderson had taken command with her usual enthusiasm, which meant I was now apparently a professional balloon inflator. My technique must have improved because she'd only made me redo three arrangements instead of her usual six.
“The orange ones go with the yellow ones, dear,” she called out for approximately the hundredth time. “We're creating an aesthetic.”
“Pretty sure this time of the year doesn't care about color coordination,” I muttered, but I rearranged them anyway. Past Jimmy had apparently learned not to argue with Mrs. Henderson about event decor.
Nina appeared with another box of decorations, looking suspiciously pleased about something. “How's the balloon situation?”
“According to Mrs. Henderson, I'm single-handedly destroying the concept of seasonal harmony.”
“Well, you did put a purple one in with the fall colors.”
“It was artistic expression.”
“It was asking for trouble.”
I was about to defend my clearly underappreciated balloon artistry when movement caught my eye. Clark was crossing the clearing. His broad shoulders and perfect posture made him look like he'd stepped straight out of a comic book, an effect only slightly undermined by the pet carrier he was awkwardly holding.
He stopped in front of me, shifting the carrier like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. “This is for you.”
I stared at him, then at the carrier, then back at him. “Is this some kind of initiation ritual? Do all new residents get mystery pets?”
A slight blush crept up his neck. “Actually, Ethan adopted her for you. He wanted it to be a surprise.”
“He what?” My voice definitely didn't crack on that question.
The carrier moved, and a soft meow emerged. My heart did something complicated in my chest as I remembered that day at the cat cafe - the fluffy ragdoll with striking blue eyes who'd seemed to choose me.
“Luna?” I asked softly.
Another meow confirmed it. Clark set down the carrier, and I knelt to look at it.
A whirlwind of emotions crashed through me as I stared at the carrier - confusion, disbelief, and something warm that bloomed in my chest like spring flowers. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the latch, every video call from the past week replaying in my mind. Not once had Ethan hinted at this, not a single tell in all our conversations.
“She's gorgeous,” I managed around the sudden thickness in my throat.
“She's yours,” Clark confirmed with a gentle smile that made him look even more like his comic book counterpart. “Ethan didn’t want to change her name and thought Luna suited her. Something about moonlight and new beginnings.”
Luna chose that moment to make her grand entrance, emerging from the carrier with the kind of dignity only cats can manage. She paused, considered her options, then proceeded to give my face an extremely thorough inspection with her sandpaper tongue.
“Well,” Nina commented, definitely not wiping away tears, “I guess that's her seal of approval.”
The small crowd that had gathered let out a collective “aww” that probably carried all the way to The Watering Hole.
Mrs. Henderson, never one to waste an opportunity or let anyone escape festival duty, immediately commandeered Clark's superhuman strength for heavy lifting. “Those pumpkins won't arrange themselves, dear,” she announced, dragging him away despite his protests about needing to get back to the cafe.
“But I have to-“
“The cats can wait five minutes. These gourds need proper placement for maximum seasonal impact.”
I laughed through my own tears, watching Clark resign himself to his fate. Some forces were more powerful than superstrength, and Mrs. Henderson's event planning enthusiasm was definitely one of them.
Luna settled into my lap like she'd always belonged there, purring up a storm while I tried to both pet her and finish my balloon duties. Mrs. Henderson had apparently decided that having a cat was no excuse for subpar decoration standards.
“The orange ones still go with the yellow ones,” she called out, pausing in her Clark-directed pumpkin arrangement. “Even if you do have an adorable assistant now.”
Luna's tail flicked dismissively at the concept of color coordination, which pretty much summed up my feelings on the matter too.
My phone buzzed again - another message from Ethan.
Ethan
I take it from Mrs. Henderson's extremely detailed updates that Operation Cat Delivery was successful?
I managed to type back one-handed, my other hand busy giving Luna the attention she clearly felt was her due.
Me
You're incredible. She's perfect. Though Clark might never recover from being drafted into festival decoration duty.
His response made me laugh out loud.
Ethan
Small price to pay for love. Besides, I'm pretty sure he can handle a few pumpkins. Unless kryptonite is secretly orange...
Luna headbutted my phone, clearly feeling that I was not paying her sufficient attention. As I switched to two-handed petting duty, watching the festival chaos unfold around us while my new companion purred her approval, I felt something settle into place.
Some gifts didn't need memories to be perfect. Sometimes they just needed to be exactly what they were - a reminder that love could find new ways to show itself, even across distance and foggy recollections.
Luna had taken up residence in a patch of sunlight near the festival games setup, supervising my attempts at ring toss arrangement with typical feline judgment. Liam appeared with bottles of water and his characteristic easy smile, the kind that always made everything feel a bit more manageable.
“Mrs. Henderson's got Clark moving hay bales now,” he reported, handing me a bottle. “Pretty sure I saw him lift three at once.”
“Just wait until she discovers he can probably hang fairy lights without a ladder.”
Liam's laugh cut short as he caught sight of something - or someone - over my shoulder. His expression shifted subtly, that protective instinct I'd come to recognize taking over.
“Don't look now,” he said quietly, “but Gary's here.”
Of course he was. My father had an uncanny ability to show up at the worst possible moments. I resisted the urge to turn around, focusing instead on perfectly spacing the ring toss bottles. Past Jimmy's organizational skills were apparently good for avoiding uncomfortable confrontations.
“He looks... settled,” Liam observed carefully, pretending to help me with the setup while keeping an eye on the situation. “But there's something off about it.”
“When isn't there?” The words came out sharper than I intended. “Sorry, I just... I don't know what to think about any of it. About him.”
Liam's hand landed on my shoulder, steady and grounding. “You don't have to figure it out right now. Or ever, if you don't want to.”
Luna chose that moment to abandon her sunbathing in favor of winding around my ankles, like she sensed my unease. Her purring helped, giving me something to focus on besides the weight of unwanted attention from across the clearing.
“How's the CEO holding up?” Liam asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
The mention of Ethan brought an automatic smile, even as my chest ached with missing him. “He's tired but good. We talk every night - well, every night he's not in crisis meetings about whatever hostile takeover attempt is happening this week.”
“That's... oddly romantic?”
“You should hear his board meeting stories. Apparently someone tried to stage a coup over his 'rural investment strategies.'” I made air quotes around the corporate speak. “Pretty sure they meant me.”
“The horror. A tech billionaire dating someone who can't even make toast without setting off smoke alarms.”
“Hey, I'll have you know my cooking skills are improving. I only almost burned down the kitchen twice this week.”
The banter helped, making Gary's presence feel less heavy. Luna had settled at my feet, her tail flicking occasionally toward where my father stood like she was keeping guard.
“You know,” Liam said thoughtfully, “it's okay to be happy about Ethan and confused about Gary at the same time. Life's messy like that.”
I looked down at Luna, thinking about surprise gifts and video calls and the way some people showed love through actions instead of words. Then at Gary in the distance, a reminder that some wounds didn't need memory to still hurt.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “Guess Current Jimmy's learning that the hard way too.”
The festival preparations continued around us, Mrs. Henderson's voice carrying across the clearing as she directed Clark to yet another perfectly positioned hay bale. The normality of it all - setting up games while my best friend kept subtle watch and my new cat judged everyone's decorating choices - felt like a shield against darker thoughts.
My phone buzzed - Ethan again.
Ethan
Just survived another board meeting. Pretty sure they're more scared of Mrs. Henderson's festival updates than my market strategies.
The message made me smile, warming something in my chest that had gone cold at Gary's appearance.
“You okay?” Liam asked quietly.
I looked at my phone, at Luna's protective presence, at the life I was building piece by piece. “Yeah,” I said, meaning it. “I think I am.”
After the festival setup wrapped, I headed to the local pet store with Luna nestled comfortably in her carrier by my side. The shop's bell chimed as I stepped inside, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cat-related items. Past Jimmy had been incredibly organized—surely some of that planning gene would kick in now?
“Right,” I muttered to myself, grabbing a cart. “What does a cat need? Everything. Probably everything.”
I loaded up with what felt like half the store - a plush bed that looked nicer than my own, toys in every conceivable variety, food bowls that probably cost more than my coffee maker. The elderly shop owner kept bringing out more suggestions, each one accompanied by detailed stories about her own cats' preferences.
But something felt off. The hair on the back of my neck kept rising, like someone was watching. Every time I turned around, though, the aisles were empty except for the usual small-town shoppers.
The feeling followed me through checkout and into the parking lot. I loaded Luna's supplies with probably excessive speed, that creeping sensation of being observed making my hands clumsy.
The drive home felt longer than usual, my rearview mirror getting more attention than strictly necessary. Luna, unbothered by human concerns, dozed in her carrier like the queen she clearly was.
The house was freezing when we arrived - the ancient heater had given up again, probably in protest of actual cold weather. Caleb was supposed to come by later to fix it, but for now, I piled on sweaters and focused on getting Luna settled.
“Welcome home,” I told her as she investigated her new kingdom. “Sorry about the temperature. The heater's dramatic.”
My laptop chimed with an incoming video call. Ethan's face filled the screen, looking tired but softening immediately when he saw me. Even through pixels and miles of distance, his smile made my chest tight.
“I miss you,” he said without preamble, his voice low and sincere.
“I miss you too.” I adjusted the screen, grinning. “But look who's here to say hi.”
Right on cue, Luna leaped onto the desk, immediately claiming prime real estate in front of the camera. Ethan's whole face lit up.
“There's my girl,” he said warmly. “Settling in okay?”
“If by settling in you mean completely taking over, then yes.” I scratched behind her ears, earning a purr that probably registered on seismic monitors. “She's already claimed my favorite reading chair and rejected at least three perfectly good cat beds in favor of my laptop keyboard.”
“Sounds about right.” His smile turned softer. “I remember you talking about wanting a cat, back at Rosewood. This felt like the right moment.”
The simple admission - that he'd held onto that detail through eight years and memory loss - made my throat tight. “Thank you,” I managed. “She's perfect.”
“Unlike your heater, apparently.” He nodded at my multiple layers. “Caleb coming to fix it?”
“Later, yeah. Though I'm starting to think it's possessed. Maybe we need an exorcist instead of a mechanic.”
Luna chose that moment to headbutt the camera, clearly feeling she hadn't received sufficient attention. The laugh it startled out of Ethan helped chase away some of that lingering unease from earlier.
“I should go,” he said reluctantly. “Board meeting in ten minutes. Apparently someone's concerned about our 'rural market penetration strategies.'”
“Is that what they're calling me now?”
“Better than last week's 'questionable small-town investment priorities.'”
We signed off with promises to talk tomorrow, and I sat there for a moment, just watching Luna explore her new domain. The house still felt cold, that weird sensation of being watched still prickled at my neck, but something else felt warm and right.
I pulled Luna closer as she settled in my lap. Some distances were manageable when bridged by love and cat photos and perfectly timed messages.
The doorbell rang just as Luna had decided my laptop keyboard was the perfect napping spot. Caleb stood on the porch, toolkit in hand and that easy smile that always made everything seem fixable.
“So,” he said, eyeing my multiple sweater layers, “the heater's being dramatic again?”
“Pretty sure it's staging a full rebellion.” I let him in, gesturing toward the basement door. “Though watch out for Luna - she's appointed herself supervisor of all household activities.”
Right on cue, Luna appeared to inspect our visitor, circling Caleb's feet with regal curiosity. “Well hello, Your Majesty,” he chuckled, kneeling to offer proper tribute in the form of chin scratches.
My phone buzzed - Nina, her timing suspicious as always.
Nina
SOS - Dave called in sick. Any chance you can cover his shift? I'd ask someone else but you're the only one who knows his regular customers' orders.
I glanced at Caleb, still being thoroughly investigated by Luna. “Any chance you'd be up for some cat-sitting while I help Nina?”
“Are you kidding? Quality time with Her Royal Highness? I'm in.” He was already setting up what looked like a cat paradise in my living room. “Go save The Watering Hole from customer service chaos.”
The bar was packed when I arrived, Friday night energy in full swing. I fell into the rhythm easier than expected - muscle memory apparently extended to drink mixing too. Past Jimmy's detailed notes about regular customers' preferences actually came in handy, though I still couldn't remember learning any of it.
“The usual?” I asked Hank, who nodded appreciatively.
“Good to have you back, son,” he said, and something about his tone made me think he meant more than just covering a shift.
The night blurred into a parade of familiar faces and drinks I somehow knew how to make. By closing time, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones, but it felt good. Like maybe I was finding my place again, even if I couldn't remember how I'd found it the first time.
The walk home was quiet, streetlights casting long shadows across familiar sidewalks. Music drifted from the festival grounds where tomorrow's celebration would bring the whole town together.
That prickling sensation returned as I walked - the same one from the pet store, but stronger now. The shadows between streetlights seemed longer, darker, like they were reaching for me. My steps quickened automatically, that instinct for self-preservation that had survived even memory loss kicking in.
A car passed too slowly, its headlights painting everything in harsh relief before plunging the street back into darkness. My phone felt heavy in my pocket - one call and Jake would probably be here in minutes. But what would I say? That the shadows felt wrong? That some part of me remembered being afraid like this before?
The festival grounds loomed ahead, strings of lights swaying gently in the autumn breeze. Just a few more blocks. Just a little further.
Footsteps behind me - too measured, too purposeful. I didn't turn around. Somehow I knew that would be worse. My heart hammered against my ribs as I picked up my pace, trying to look casual while every nerve screamed danger.
A memory flickered - running through different streets, fear tasting like copper in my mouth. But before I could grab onto it, pain exploded through the back of my head. The world tilted sideways as my knees hit concrete.
My vision swam, streetlights blurring into strange patterns above me. Through the gathering darkness, a different scene emerged - Rosewood Academy's practice room at midnight, Ethan's smile soft in the dim light as his fingers danced across piano keys.
“I'll always find you,” his voice echoed from somewhere far away.
Then everything went black.