Chapter 10
Taysom
“Taysom?” Charlotte’s brows climb. “Where’s Kyle?”
I shift my stance, hesitating. I hadn’t thought it would be a big deal to see Charlotte Mercer at the Center today. But she’s cute and seeing her reminded me of when I attempted to ask her out a few years ago.
Back then, I was instantly interested. I’d just joined the Wolves and the attention and media coverage was…a lot. Don’t get me wrong, it was exciting. I had fans and a lot of people started recognizing me.
It was a weird feeling, but the effect of the fame on my dad was problematic. He responded in such a flashy way that was, frankly, embarrassing. The more he turned outward, the more I turned inward.
But seeing Charlotte on campus that day felt good. Like a part of me was home again. Like I could relax a little.
By the time she had to leave for class, I was trying to gather up the nerve to ask for her number. It shouldn’t have been hard—she was just my best friend’s little sister.
But she’d grown up and I found her both entirely new and like someone I already deeply knew.
When people started coming up to us and asking for my autograph, the vibe between us changed, though, and she told me if I really wanted her number, I’d know who to ask.
I knew she meant her brother, and I was going to, but then my dad told me he was getting remarried, which was difficult for me. I never ended up talking to Kyle about Charlotte’s number.
And then it took six more years for me to see her again. It wasn’t like I was avoiding her. It was that we ran in completely different circles, and it just never happened.
And now, she’s standing here, in blue and pink plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, her hair down, wavy gold and burnt orange, like the glow of the sunset.
“I was at Kyle’s when you called about the cat.” I shrug. “He had a work thing come up, so I told him I’ve got you.”
She works her jaw in surprise before answering. “Well, don’t you have practice in the morning?”
“It’s the off season. I’m meeting with my trainer at ten, but other than that, I’m free. If there was any time of the year to have a kitten emergency, it’s now.”
She eyes my grocery bag. “And you just happened to have kitten saving supplies on hand?”
“I made a stop. Did you know Walmart carries kitten formula? I lucked out.”
“So we’re going to bribe him with food?” Her face looks dubious.
“You got a better idea?”
She traps her lips in between her teeth. “I guess I’m desperate.”
I can’t help the chuckle that leaks out.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Taysom Reed.”
A mournful meow punctures the silence. “He’s really not happy, is he?” I grab the flashlight out of my canvas bag, set both bags down on the wooden porch, and then take the three steps down to the sidewalk, bending down to shine a light into the cracks between the boards.
“Aw, he’s cute. Much smaller than he sounds.”
“I know. I don’t know how he got in there, but he seems scared. Do you think he’s hurt?” Charlotte sits down on the top step and peers in between two of the boards that have a bigger than normal space between them.
“I’ve never had a cat.” I frown. “I always wanted a pet, but it was too big to ask my mom, and now with my football schedule, it would be impossible.”
“I’ve never had a pet either. Both my parents are allergic,” Charlotte says.
“I think that’s the only not-amazing thing I’ve ever heard about your parents.” It’s true. The Mercer family is the gold standard as far as families go. Five kids. Parents who work in the education system as teachers and coaches. Fun. Funny. Laidback.
Being in their home growing up was like catnip to my soul.
The cat prowls along the perimeter of the small, square space under the porch. “He doesn’t look hurt when he’s walking around, so that’s something.” I inspect the porch box. “I can’t figure out how he got in there. There doesn’t seem to be a big enough hole anywhere.”
“I heard once that cats can fit into smaller spaces than you’d imagine,” Charlotte says, the scent of her hair floating to me. It’s like shampoo and lemons and something unique to only her.
It’s like she can hear my thoughts because she grabs her hair and twists it up and stows it behind one shoulder, like she’s trying to get it out of the way.
“Well, let’s set this formula out and see if that coaxes him. Do you have a bowl we can use?”
Charlotte nods and hurries inside. I open the pouch that reads “Kitten Milk Replacer” and when she comes out with a small, pink ceramic bowl, I carefully pour some in and set the bowl down next to the lattice covering, as close to the cat as possible. He gives another pitiful mew but doesn’t move.
“So, now we wait?” she asks, shrugging.
“I guess so. I wonder if it would be better if we weren’t hovering. Maybe he’s shy.”
“Do you…want to come in?”
“I mean, maybe he’ll come out if he doesn’t have an audience.”
“Makes sense,” she hedges. “We can check again in a few minutes.”
We make our way inside, and I’m struck by how much her living room reminds me of the Mercer house.
The house they lived in was bigger, and probably about twenty years newer.
Like Charlotte’s, it was a craftsman style place, but unlike hers, it had a covered porch across the front of it and was painted red.
“This sofa looks familiar,” I say, patting the arm.
“Have a seat,” she motions to it. “You remember this? It’s a hand-me-down from my parents.”
I sink down into the worn leather. There’s so much I remember about that house. It was chaotic, but warm. The Mercers were everything I’d wanted in a family. Everything I tried to make my family become.
I rub my hand across the leather. “I spent a lot of hours gaming with Kyle on this sofa, so of course I remember it.”
On her fireplace mantle, there are family photos. “So, Maddy got married a while back, right?”
“Yes. She’s so in love it’s disgusting. We don’t see her as much as we used to, but it’s fine. She’s in Houston working as a CPA and loving it.”
“Kyle made sure I got an invitation to the wedding, but I had a game that weekend.”
“I remember something about a wedding gift of a bunch of card games and board games?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I made Kyle take my gift to the reception for me.”
“It was nice of you,” Charlotte says, but her voice is strained and her lips purse, like it takes great effort to compliment me.
Why the animosity? She seems uncomfortable around me, and it was that way when we went out for lunch years ago.
I open my mouth to ask her if there’s something wrong, but the words die out before I can speak. How would I even go about asking that? And what would she think about such an odd question?
She stands from her chair across from me and steps to the door. “Let’s see if the milk replacer did its magic.”
I join her on the porch, only to hear another angry meow. We go down the steps and shine our light in there again.
“He’s still there.”
Charlotte frowns. “Well, he probably doesn’t appreciate having a blinding light in his face.”
“Oh yeah. You’re probably right.” I shut off the flashlight. “Sorry, little guy.”
Charlotte coughs, but it might have been a cover-up for something of a laugh. “So, what do we do now? We can’t just leave him there. He seems to be in distress.”
I give the corner of the lattice board between us and the cat a tug. “We could try to pry this off.”
She frowns. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
“Do you know any cat experts?” I ask.
“I’m not well-versed on the whole owning-a-pet thing,” she says with a groan.
“Neither am I, sadly. But…” I hold up a finger.
“I have a resource that might help.” I take my phone out of my pocket, pull up the Fur-ever Homes website, and tap into the forum.
“This has a place where you can ask pet owners questions. They even have veterinarians and vet techs weigh in sometimes.”
“Fur-ever Homes?” Charlotte asks, taking my phone from my hands. She scrolls through the list of threads and then giggles. “What is bikejoring?” She shows me the screen.
“Oh yeah. I saw that one. I guess it’s where you attach a lead to your bike and your dog pulls you along.”
“Like a dog sled situation? Only on wheels?”
“Something like that.” I take my phone from her hands, my fingers brushing against the back of her hand.
How can someone’s skin be that smooth?
“Looks like he crashed, though.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some good posts on there.”
“How do you even know about this if you’re not a pet parent?” Her brow scrunches together.
I tilt my head to one side. How much should I tell her?