Chapter 12 #2
Auren’s eyes narrow, truly seeing me for the first time. “I wasn’t aware Emily had hired legal counsel.”
“She didn’t.” I plant my feet wider. I won’t be swayed by his games. “But pet theft cases are cut and dry in small claims court. You want to keep her cat? Fine. We’ll file the paperwork today.”
His perfect features contort, venom flashing across his face before he catches himself. The transformation happens in an instant, his beautiful mask cracking to reveal the ugly beneath, then smoothing back into practiced charm.
“Small claims court?” Auren’s laugh tinkles. “How pedestrian.”
“The judge won’t care who Mixie follows around the house. They’ll care about who signed the adoption papers and who paid the vet bills.” I arch an eyebrow. “When was the last time you took Mixie to the vet?”
Auren’s fingers tap the doorframe, his nails clicking a rapid rhythm on the wood as he recalculates.
He turns to Emily, ignoring me again. “Em, do you really want to drag our private matters through court? Have strangers paw through our history? Think of the damage it would do to the pack.”
Emily’s head lifts, doubt flickering across her face, then determination. “I’m not part of the pack anymore. You made that clear when you pushed me out.”
“Is this what you’ve been telling people?” Auren’s mouth twists. “Ever the victim, never taking responsibility—”
“Mixie’s paperwork says Emily Wilson.” I interrupt his building tirade. “That’s all the court will care about.”
Auren’s attention snaps back to me, those amethyst eyes cold with calculation. “You’re awfully invested in this for someone who’s known Emily for what, a week? Two?”
I don’t back down from his stare. “Long enough to recognize emotional manipulation when I see it.”
A tense silence stretches between us. Emily stands straighter beside me, her presence growing stronger with each passing second, as if she’s remembering who she was before Auren diminished her.
“Fine.” Auren pushes away from the doorframe with sudden violence. “Wait here.”
He disappears into the house, silk robe billowing behind him. The door remains open, offering a glimpse of polished hardwood floors and a staircase with wrought-iron railings.
Emily releases a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
The simple gratitude warms me more than it should. I nudge her with my elbow. “We’re not done yet.”
Footsteps approach from inside the house, and Auren reappears with a sleek black cat cradled in his arms. The cat fights Auren’s hold, paws pushing against his chest.
“Do you see what you’re doing to her?” Auren huffs. “She’s distressed.”
Emily takes half a step forward, but stops before she crosses the threshold. “You’re holding her too tight.”
At the sound of Emily’s voice, the cat’s ears prick forward. She twists in Auren’s arms, stretching toward Emily with sudden interest.
Emily extends her arms. “Hey, sweet girl. Remember me?”
The change in the cat is immediate and unmistakable. Mixie strains toward Emily, front paws reaching, a chirping sound rising from her throat.
Auren’s grip tightens before he releases her with obvious reluctance.
Mixie leaps into Emily’s arms and slams the top of her head into Emily’s chin, her whole body vibrating with the force of her purrs.
Emily’s face transforms, years melting away as she kisses Mixie. “Hi, baby. I missed you so much.”
The cat stretches up, rubbing her gums against Emily’s chin, paws kneading her shoulder. Their reunion leaves no doubt. This animal recognizes her person, regardless of who’s been feeding her these past months.
Auren keeps his expression neutral, but when Emily bends to nuzzle the cat’s neck, his lip curls in disgust, the mask slipping to reveal his true feelings. He never cared about Mixie. She was only ever a tool to keep control over Emily.
“I guess you’ll want her food, too.” Auren turns on his heel and stomps back into the house.
I pick up the carrier, opening its door. “Time to go home, Mixie.”
To my surprise, when Emily lowers her toward the opening, the cat enters without a fight, curling up on the fleece blanket inside. Emily secures the door with trembling fingers, her face alight with a joy I’ve never seen before.
Auren returns and thrusts a bag of kibble at me before addressing Emily. “We’ll discuss this later, Emily. Without your guard dog.”
“No, you won’t.” I step between them, blocking Auren from Emily’s view. “This discussion is over.”
Auren’s beautiful face hardens. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It does now.” I lift the carrier with one hand. “Goodbye, Auren.”
I turn my back to dismiss him, ending any further argument. Emily hesitates for a heartbeat before following me down the path to the truck.
Auren doesn’t call after us, but I feel his gaze burning into my back with every step.
At the truck, I open the passenger door and store the food in the back seat before turning to Emily. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
She pulls them from her pocket, dropping them into my palm without argument. “He’s going to be angry.”
“Block his number.” I open the passenger door for her. “He’s toxic, Emily. You don’t owe him anything.”
She turns her head away from me. “It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.” I wait for her to settle, pass her Mixie’s carrier to hold, then circle to the driver’s side. “You got Mixie back. That’s step one.”
As I start the engine, Mixie meows, and Emily slides her fingers through the carrier’s mesh front. The cat nuzzles into her touch, her purrs swelling past the truck’s rumble.
“Step one,” Emily echoes, a small smile forming on her lips as Mixie licks her fingertips.
I pull away from the curb, watching Auren’s perfect house recede in the rearview mirror. He stands in the doorway, a slender figure wrapped in silk, growing smaller with each passing second.
But even as he disappears from view, I’m certain we haven’t seen the last of him.
As I follow Emily into her house, Mixie yowls from the carrier, her small paws batting at the metal door with increasing urgency. Emily kneels on the hardwood entryway, fingers fumbling with the latch, her usual grace abandoned in her haste to free her cat.
When the grate swings open, Mixie hesitates for three heartbeats, nose twitching as she samples the air, before stepping onto familiar territory.
“Welcome home, sweet girl,” Emily whispers, her hands trembling. “I hope she remembers.”
Mixie’s ears swivel forward at the sound, her green eyes fixing on Emily’s face with unmistakable recognition. She stretches her neck to bump her head against Emily’s hand, then turns to survey the living room, tail held high like a question mark.
“She does.” I pick up the carrier. “Where do you keep her things?”
Emily rises from her crouch, watching as Mixie takes tentative steps toward the couch. “Hall closet. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of anything.”
Her admission hangs in the air between us, revealing more than words about the pain of these past months. How many times had she opened the closet, seen Mixie’s things, and closed the door again, hope dying a little more each day?
“Show me?”
Emily leads me down the hallway, past the guest room where I slept last night, to a narrow door I hadn’t noticed before.
When she pulls it open, the scent of cedar drifts out.
Inside, stacked on shelves, sits a cat bed with a crocheted cover, ceramic food and water bowls painted with fish, a scratching post with frayed corners, a basket of toys, and folded blankets.
Emily’s hand hovers over a catnip mouse, not quite touching it. “I kept thinking he’d change his mind and realize she belonged with me.”
Beneath the words, I hear the silent hope: that he belonged with me.
I reach past her, our arms brushing, and set the carrier on the floor for storage before lifting the scratching post. “Let’s set these up. Make it feel like home again.”
We work in silence, arranging Mixie’s belongings around the living room. Emily places the food bowls in the kitchen, filling one with fresh water. I position the scratching post near the couch, where claw marks on the arm suggest it once stood before.
Emily unfolds a blue blanket that matches the throw pillows, shaking it out before draping it over the window seat.
“This was her favorite place to nap,” she explains, smoothing the fabric with careful fingers. “She used to knead it for ten minutes before settling down.”
Mixie hovers in the hallway, her tail swishing across the floor while we get everything ready.
I open the basket from the closet. “Should we put out some of the toys?”
“Yeah.” She selects a feather wand and a small ball with a bell inside. “These were her favorites.”
I arrange them near the cat bed while Emily fetches the food Auren sent.
Her nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar food brand. “He switched her diet. She always had stomach issues with fish flavors.”
“Do you have her old food?”
“In the pantry. It’s probably stale.” Emily disappears into the kitchen, returning with a sealed container. “I kept everything. You probably think I was crazy.”
“Not crazy,” I correct her. “Hopeful.”
Gratitude flashes across her face before she turns away. The connection between us pulses, though it’s clear it will take more work for her to acknowledge it, and after meeting Auren, I now understand why.
He hurt her so much she doesn’t even recognize this tug every time we’re near.
Mixie inches further into the living room, sniffing the corners of the couch, the edge of the coffee table, and the planters by the window. She moves with caution, reacquainting herself until she reaches the cat bed. There, she circles twice and then settles onto the blanket.
Emily sinks onto the couch, hands clasped between her knees, attention fixed on her cat as she explores. With each passing minute, the tightness in her shoulders unwinds, her breathing settling as Mixie reclaims her space.
“Thank you,” she says without looking at me. “For making me do this.”
I sit beside her, leaving more distance between us than I want. “You would have done it, eventually.”
“Would I?” Her fingers twist together, knuckles whitening. “I let him take her without a fight. I let him convince me she was better off with him.”
“You were hurt,” I say. “People we care about always find the places that cause the most pain.”
Mixie approaches the couch, her attention fixed on Emily. She stretches up on her back legs, front paws pressing into the cushion beside Emily’s leg, and a soft, questioning trill rises from her throat.
Emily’s hand trembles as she extends it toward the cat. “Hey, Mixie-girl. Remember me?”
Mixie sniffs her fingers, whiskers brushing Emily’s skin. Then, with no further hesitation, she leaps onto the couch and climbs onto Emily’s lap, turning in three tight circles before settling with her paws tucked beneath her chest.
“Oh,” Emily breathes, the single syllable cracking with emotion.
“Well, if that’s not the perfect loaf, I can’t imagine what would be,” I whisper.
Her composure shatters all at once, tears spilling down her cheeks in silent streams as she buries her fingers in Mixie’s fur. Her shoulders shake with suppressed sobs, each breath catching in her throat as she struggles to contain her grief and relief.
I reach out, uncertain of my welcome. “Emily?”
She doesn’t pull away as I expected. Instead, she leans into my touch, just a little, allowing me to support a fraction of her weight.
The trust in that small movement steals my breath.
My arm curves around her shoulders, holding her steady as she buries her face in Mixie’s fur. The cat begins to purr, the sound vibrating between them.
“I missed you so much,” she murmurs, her voice muffled by black fur. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”
I stroke my thumb across Emily’s shoulder, offering what comfort I can while giving her space to process this reunion.
Emily lifts her head, eyes red-rimmed but clearer. “She remembers me.”
“Of course, she does.” Relief washes through me as her tears taper off. “You’re her person.”
Mixie kneads Emily’s thigh, claws catching in the denim of her jeans before retracting. Emily winces but doesn’t move, accepting the small pain as part of the gift of having her cat back.
Unease settles in my stomach as I recall Auren’s parting words. We’ll discuss this later, Emily, without your guard dog.
Emily straightens. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie, unwilling to disturb this fragile peace. “Everything’s perfect.”
She huffs at me. “I can smell your unease.”
“I don’t like your ex.”
“Some days, I can’t remember why I ever did, either. He’s going to make things hard after this.” She scratches behind Mixie’s ears, earning a louder purr. “But I’m not alone now.”
The simple statement carries more weight than she intends, settling in my chest with a gentle tug. Not alone. Two words that have defined my life in their absence, until yesterday, when Emily answered my desperate call for help.
“No,” I agree, my arm still curved around her shoulders. “You’re not alone.”
Mixie stretches, her claws extending toward me before retracting. She assesses me, deciding if I’m acceptable company for her person.
Through the window, heavy, gray clouds gather on the horizon. But with Emily’s weight against my side and her cat purring between us, the coming storm doesn’t scare me.