Chapter 52
The Gentle Pull
Killian
I hate the kitten. I fucking hate it.
I can’t believe Dad let her keep it. It’s everywhere. Toys are strewn all over the living room, cat food on the kitchen floor, clumps of black fur sticking to the furniture.
Even upstairs, on my turf, I can’t escape it.
It comes up here all the time even though I keep telling Jenna to keep it the fuck away.
I hear its little paws bouncing on the floor, and then footsteps come rushing up the stairs, followed by Jenna’s innocent fucking voice, sweetly telling the cat that it can’t be here.
I want to grab her and spank her every fucking time, but at the same time, I don’t want anything to do with her. So I keep the door shut.
But there’s no escaping the little princess and her new pet.
They always seem to be there when I go downstairs, and it bugs the hell out of me to hear Jenna cooing at the kitten, talking to it like it fucking understands her, and carrying it around all the time.
It’s pathetic. All wrong. She should be the pet on the floor.
What’s even worse is that the cat somehow seems to have given Jenna more courage, making her talk back to me.
“Get the kitten the hell off of me,” I demand when I go into the kitchen and it jumps up my leg, piercing my expensive pants with its sharp claws.
“Ginny just wants to play,” she says with an unapologetic lilt.
I peel the kitten off and set it on the floor. “Well, I don’t want to fucking play.”
“Why not? You used to love animals. Remember the bird we nursed ba—”
“Don’t fucking mention that bird,” I snap, seething at the memory—hating that she would bring it up. I want to forget everything from that time. If she says one more word about it, I’m going to do something that will make her regret it dearly.
Jenna picks the cat up from the floor and lowers her head toward it. “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous that he’s not the one getting all the attention.”
“Fuck off.” I slam the fridge door so hard it jumps back open, then stomp off.
I don’t know why that comment gets to me like that. I’m fuming and unable to focus for the next hour. I end up in my gym, going so fast on the treadmill I can barely breathe, then going at the punching bag without protection.
“Fuck,” I growl when I hit the bag so hard my fist leaves a smear of blood. But I keep going, punching until my knuckles are raw and bleeding. It’s only then that I can finally breathe through the constriction in my chest.
Panting, I go to my room and drop into my recliner, scrolling mindlessly through YouTube shorts. I’ve barely been there ten minutes before the door, which I had forgotten to shut, creaks.
“Fucking cat,” I mutter and reach out to shut the door, but the kitten has already squeezed through the crack, sauntering into my room like it has every fucking right to be here.
It’s as naive and gullible as Jenna, trusting the wrong people.
Meowing, it rubs its head on my leg, thinking I’m its friend.
“Get out,” I say, ignoring it. But the cat has the nerve to jump onto my lap and push at my phone. Repeatedly.
I grab it with one hand and lift it off, setting it on the floor, but it just jumps back up, pushing at my phone, rubbing its head on my arm, and swinging its tail in front of the screen.
I set it down three more times, but the kitten is stubborn.
I’m about to grab it and throw it out the door when it jumps up a fourth time and crawls onto my bare chest. It meows as it watches me with big green eyes, wide and eager, just like Jenna’s.
Those eyes get to me. I can’t resist the urge to scratch it behind the ear.
“You’re just like her,” I say, both fucking annoyed and…
something else. The kitten eagerly leans into my touch, and I wonder if Jenna would have done the same if I had given her one of those hugs she begged me for before she found the kitten.
The kitten sweeps its tail along my skin, brushing back and forth, and it makes me wonder if Jenna’s hair would feel as soft if she were to lay her head on my chest.
For a moment, I imagine it’s her head I’m petting, and I let out a soft hum.
Realizing where I’m going, I pull my hand from the cat and growl, “Out!”
It jumps to the floor and scurries out the door, pushing it wide open as it goes.
I stare after it, and a tightening sensation wraps around my chest as I remember that Jenna will be leaving as well in two months.
Good, then this house will finally be quiet again.
I cling to that thought, and the tightness keeps clinging to my chest.