Chapter 11 Atticus Fatticus
Atticus Fatticus
? Indigo - Sam Barber, Avery Anna
Jaxon
When we arrive back at my place, Griffin’s already elbow deep in Callie’s shitty hatchback. She heads inside to text Mo, and I take the opportunity to check on her car without her around. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that it’s not going to be good news.
“How’s it looking?” I ask, slipping my hands into my pockets.
He swipes the back of his hand along his forehead, leaving behind a black smudge. “Like it’d be better off in a junkyard.”
“Fuck. Can you fix it?”
“It’s gonna take some time, and it won’t be cheap.”
That’s what I was afraid of. Callie’s gonna lose her shit when she finds out. She’s doing everything she can to put the pieces of her life back together, but it keeps falling apart around her. I can’t let this be another loss. “I’ll cover it. Tell Callie you know a guy.”
Griffin grins, wiping his hands on a rag.
“I mean it, Griff. Not a penny out of her pocket. She’s been through enough.”
Crossing his arms over his barrel chest, he leans against the car and nods once. “I hear you, brother.”
Callie jogs down the front steps and joins us. “Please tell me I can get to work tomorrow.”
Griffin grimaces. “Not in this car, I’m afraid. I need to order parts, and since it’s an older model, it might take a while.”
Callie’s face falls. “How much do you need? I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow, but—”
“Don't you worry your pretty little head. I’ve got a guy who owes me a favor. Might take a bit to get the parts, but it won’t cost a thing.”
“I have to at least pay you for your time.” She pulls my jacket tighter across herself.
Something about seeing my name stitched across her chest feels so fucking right.
“Not a chance.”
“But—”
Tires crunch on gravel, drawing our attention to the lime green Mini Cooper pulling into my driveway. Mo’s timing is impeccable.
Callie’s face lights up when Mo steps out of the ridiculous vehicle. She pulls open the back door and brings out what looks like a large duffel bag with mesh windows. There’s a low yowling sound coming from inside.
“I’m gonna make some calls,” Griffin says, closing the hood of her car. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Griff.”
As Griffin heads to his truck, I make my way over to Callie.
“You mind getting the bin out of the back?” Mo asks.
I grab the handles of a large tote and drag it out. It’s huge. I’m surprised it even fit back there.
“What the hell do you have in here?” I ask, trailing behind them into the house.
Mo deposits Atticus’s carrier on the floor in the entry and counts on her fingers. “Cat tower, cat food, cat treats, leash, harness—”
“How much shit does one cat need?”
“You’d be surprised. This cat is spoiled rotten.” She leans her face close to the mesh. “Aren’t you, Fatticus?”
Callie crouches down to pull open the zipper. “I told you to stop calling him that. You’re gonna give him a complex.”
A massive grey and white long-haired cat peeks its head out of the top. White tufts pop out of his ears, his eyes are moss green, and he has what some might call a resting bitch face.
“And you gave him mommy issues,” Mo says in a teasing tone. “Can’t say I’d blame him if he decides to hold a grudge. After all, you did abandon him for some cushy apartment in Willow Valley.”
Callie averts her gaze. She doesn’t let on how much the accusation stings, playful though it was, but I know her well enough to recognize the hurt in her eyes.
Atticus hops out with a dramatic swish of his tail. He butts up against Callie’s hand once and lets him pet her for a few seconds before he yowls and circles my legs.
I bend to pet the disgruntled cat, and a loud purr rumbles from his chest.
“Looks like Fatticus likes his new daddy,” Mo quips. “Why are you staying with this dipshit anyway?”
Callie trails into the living room and slumps onto the sofa. “The apartment is under new ownership. Rent is going up, and they offered to let me out of my lease early.”
My beautiful little liar. I almost can’t believe Mo’s buying it.
Then again, maybe I can. Mo never visited this so-called apartment Callie was living in, or they would’ve found out the truth, and Callie wouldn’t have had to live in her car for five months.
Mo’s been a negligent friend. I won’t call them out, but they’re inching their way to the very top of my shit list.
I pick up the storage bin and follow them.
“That doesn't explain how you ended up at the ranch.”
Callie rolls her lips together. “Um…”
I cut in. “I was at the library when I overheard her telling Janet she needed to find a new place. Almost had to kidnap her, but she agreed when I told her Atticus could move in, too.”
The devil’s in the details, and Callie’s not the only skilled liar in the room.
“Kidnapping would’ve been a much better story,” Mo says.
“Anyway. Thanks again for taking care of him. I don't know what I would’ve done.”
Mo types out a text to someone and places their phone face down on their lap. “You can thank me next weekend when you join me for a double date.”
Callie winces.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not taking no for an answer. You owe me.”
My jaw ticks as I deposit the tote on the coffee table and pry open the lid. Mo’s not a bad person, but they’re testing my patience.
“Fine,” Callie releases a resigned sigh. “Who’s my date?”
There’s that fucking word again. Fine. It's a blatant lie every time it slips past those pretty pink lips, but she’s too goddamn agreeable to say how she really feels.
Mo’s phone chimes, and they hold it out for Callie to read. “His name is Clint.”
I pull up short, my grip tightening around the bottom half of a cat tower. “Clint Campbell?”
Mo glances at me, smirking. “The one and only. You know him?”
“Yeah. He’s one of our ranch hands. There’s a reason they call him Loverboy.”
Callie passes their phone back. “He’s cute, I guess.”
I glance up at the ceiling and inhale a deep breath to steady myself. My mind is a jumbled mess of mine mine mine playing on repeat like some kind of psychopath.
“Don't worry. I’ll take good care of our girl,” Mo says. “It's just a drink or two at The Ridge.”
“You’re really gonna throw her into the deep end with that asshole?”
Callie brings her legs up under her, adjusting her position. “Could you two stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?”
Fueled by a mix of frustration and jealousy, I reassemble the cat tower and clear a spot for it in the corner near the window while Callie and Mo catch up on recent events. As soon as the tower is set up, Atticus climbs to the very top and stares out the window.
I place the rest of his things in the hall closet and set his food and water bowls in the kitchen. In the absence of anything else to keep me busy, I grab a beer and make my way out to the porch.
I spent more time out on the ranch today than I have in a long while. Having Callie with me made it easier to digest, but seeing Copper again, being that close to a reminder of everything I lost, has thrown me into a tailspin.
I couldn’t hide it from Callie. She had a good look at my damage—more than I’ve ever shown to anyone before, and she didn’t run. She didn’t hide. She reached for me, and fuck if that doesn’t give me all the more reason to keep her.
Callie
As Mo’s leaving, I catch sight of Jaxon sitting on his porch steps with his elbows draped over his knees, picking at the soggy label on his beer.
I pull on the jacket he gave me. Maybe someday I’ll give it back, but not today. Today I’m clinging to it like a lifeline
“Mind if I join you?”
There’s something off about his smile as he pats the stair next to him.
I sit before I’ve had time to consider why I’m out here in the first place.
When I stare out at the pasture beyond the fence, I remember the moment I saw Jaxon’s light dim.
For the first time, I glimpsed something raw and honest beyond the casual, kindhearted man he presents to the world.
If any other man had pounded their fist against their truck, I would’ve recoiled in an instant, but I never for one second felt like I was in danger.
Not with Jaxon. It was done out of anguish, not anger.
There’s a world of pain in those emerald eyes I could easily lose myself in.
I want to build a bridge from his world to mine and see how many of our paths would cross.
“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs. “You should go back inside.”
I link my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder. “You’ll keep me warm.”
As the silence stretches, my mind begins its all-too-familiar spiral into self-doubt. I start to pull away.
Jaxon captures my hand, holding me to him. “Don’t.” His hand remains there, enveloping mine. “Atticus settling in ok?”
“Are you kidding? He’s probably already locked us out here. Atticus is king, and we’re but his humble servants.”
Jaxon laughs, lowering his chin to rest against my head. “How long have you had him?”
“Almost two years. He was my birthday present to myself, but he’s kind of more than that, you know? He’s been through a lot with me.”
I swear I feel his lips on the top of my head, but the touch is so gentle, I can’t be sure. Maybe I imagined it, or maybe he just kissed me for the second time in as many hours.
“I get it. I have that bond with Maverick. He’s the jet black stallion Wilder was working on earlier. He’s carried me through a lot of shit.”
I want to ask about Copper so I can understand why he reacted the way he did, but I’m afraid he’ll close off if I do. Despite my best efforts, I can’t resist this undeniable pull I feel whenever he’s near.
A shiver skates down my spine, and my shoulders draw up.
“Let’s go inside before you freeze to death.” He stands and offers me a hand up. “What time do you work tomorrow?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll drive you.” He holds open the screen door for me.
I kick off my shoes on the welcome mat and head farther into the house. Atticus circles my feet, and I bend to pick him up, cradling him in my arms like an oversized baby. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take you away from your work.”
“We own this place. Work happens on my schedule, not the other way around. Besides, I have a new book on hold.” He brings his face close to Atty’s and scratches under his chin. “I’ve got some stuff to get done in my office. Holler if you need me.”
“Ok. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Callie baby.” He gives Atticus one last scratch on the head. “See you later, Fatticus.”
I let out a resigned sigh. “Not you, too.”