Chapter 6 Lucian
Lucian
The airport smells like stale pretzels, recycled air, and collective panic.
We’re barely two steps through the automatic doors before Sir Sassafras starts yowling again—soft at first, then louder, like he’s narrating our suffering. A woman in a yoga hoodie gives me a look that says control your child.
I adjust the strap on the bubble backpack and sigh. “Buddy, please,” I murmur under my breath. “I’m begging you. Just be a good boy until we get through this, and I’ll give you every treat in the bag when we land. The salmon ones, too.”
Sass ignores me and yowls even louder.
Orion smirks as we head toward check-in, his hands shoved in his pockets, completely unbothered by the chaos he’s inflicted on my morning. “Are you sure the paperwork cleared?”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you earlier, I got the email at two a.m.,” I mutter. “He’s officially an emotional support animal.”
The woman at the counter is in her sixties, her tortoiseshell glasses are perched at the edge of her nose like they’re seconds away from slipping off.
She peers over the desk at Sir Sass in his carrier, blinking twice at him, before her smile brightens.
“Well, now—he’s a handsome little gentleman.”
“Yeah,” I reply as I raise him for her to get a better look. “He’s definitely something.”
Her smile deepens, the practiced, airport-hardened warmth turning genuine.
“And traveling with you today, I assume?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I nod. “He’s my emotional support animal.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” she says, lifting her hand toward us. “I’m going to need IDs for both of you—passenger and handler—and proof of ESA clearance for your little captain here.”
Once we hand over all of our documents, she squints at her screen as she taps a few keys, before glancing back up with a tight smile. “Well, Mr. Sterling, looks like you’re all set. Just keep him in the carrier during boarding and through the gate, and let security know you’ve got an ESA tag.”
“Thanks,” I say, adjusting the duffel on my shoulder. My leg’s starting to complain again, so I shift to my other side, trying not to wince. My prosthetic is the last thing I want anyone to notice.
Orion’s already pulling out his boarding pass and does a fist pump when he sees our gate number. “Fuck yeah. We’re close to the good coffee.”
We move toward security, and I already regret everything.
The line’s short, but I can feel eyes on me—or more specifically, on the yowling cat in the glowing blue capsule. Sir Ass has decided this is the time to practice his opera scales.
“You think he knows we’re flying?” Orion asks, sipping from a bottle of water he definitely didn’t have two seconds ago.
“He knows we’re doing something. He hasn’t stopped complaining since we left my apartment.”
The TSA agent waves me forward. I take a deep breath and brace myself.
“Sir, you’ll need to remove your laptop, shoes, and anything in your pockets—”
“And the cat?” I ask flatly.
He glances at the backpack, then back at me. “…Yes, sir. He’ll have to come out while the carrier goes through.”
Of course he will.
Behind me, Orion grins like it’s Christmas morning. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
I take a slow breath, crouch beside the carrier, and whisper, “Okay, Sass. Remember what we talked about. You behave, and I’ll give you all the treats you want, okay?”
Orion steps back, eyes twinkling as he reaches for his phone. “I’m filming this.”
“You film this, and I’ll feed you to him.”
Still, I slide the bubble bag off my shoulder and unzip it halfway.
Sass blinks at me. Then lets out a tiny, approving chirp.
“That’s my boy,” I murmur.
Before I can even reach for him, he climbs straight out, stretching across my shoulders like a scarf, his purr vibrating against my throat. He nuzzles under my jaw and gives a little trill that sounds dangerously close to smug.
The TSA agent blinks. “Uh… is he supposed to do that?”
Orion deadpans, “He’s very advanced.”
I sigh. “He doesn’t like his carrier. He prefers… this.”
Sass shifts slightly, curling tighter against my neck, his leash draped loosely in my hand. His purr gets louder, like he knows he’s winning hearts left and right.
The agent looks at his coworker, then back at me. “As long as he’s leashed, it’s fine.”
Orion grins like the devil. “See? He’s officially a sanctioned cat scarf.”
Sass presses his nose against my cheek, purring harder.
And for the first time all morning, a real smile sneaks onto my lips.
I nuzzle into his fur as he does the same to my hair, and we just wait.
* * *
Thankfully, my first trip through TSA as an amputee was a breeze, and the flight was as uneventful as it can be with an unmedicated shelter cat. I haven’t even been with him a month, and I didn’t know how well the flight would be.
The little guy handled the flight like a champ. He didn’t cry, bite, or panic; he just hid his face under my jaw whenever the plane jolted and trusted me to keep him safe. I don’t deserve that kind of faith.
“Over here!” Orion shouts, as if the driver might overlook the six-foot-four lighthouse of a man waving both his arms.
The driver leans out the window. “Are you Orion?”
“Yep,” Orion replies easily. “Two bags and one cat-shaped scarf.”
Sir Sass chirps softly, head-butting my jaw like he’s defending my honor.
“Yeah, I know,” I murmur to him. “You’re perfect. He’s just jealous.”
The driver chuckles as we load in. For a while, the city lights blur past, Sir Sass stretches across my lap like he’s reclaiming personal space after a long day. Orion hums off-key to whatever’s on the radio, probably to irritate me.
Thankfully, the drive to the hotel is uneventful.
By the time we pull up to the hotel, Sass is half-asleep again, paw curled around my finger like a toddler.
I hate moving him, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to move sleeping pets, but I shift him gently to my shoulders before stepping out.
He clings to my shoulder, purring the whole way inside.
The lobby is sterile and too fucking bright; it smells faintly of lemon polish and overpriced hope. The front desk clerk looks like he’s about twelve and running on Monster Energy and anxiety. His name tag says Chadwick, which feels like a red flag and a punchline all at once.
“Evening,” Orion says, flashing his most charming grin. “We’re here to check in for Smith. One room. Two beds. One… uh, emotional support scarf.”
Chadwick blinks, clearly trying to process the information he’s been given. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say emotional support… scarf?”
Orion gestures at me like he’s presenting a prize on a game show. “Behold. Sir Sassafras the Sassy Ass Emotional Support Scarf.”
Sass lifts his head, blinks once, and lets out a sleepy chirp.
I sigh. “He’s an emotional support animal,” I clarify, setting my ID on the counter. “We’ve got paperwork if you need to see it.”
Chadwick leans forward slightly, peering at Sass wrapped around my neck. “Uh, right. So… emotional support animals aren’t actually recognized under the ADA as service animals. The only ones that qualify are dogs. And miniature horses.”
I blink. “Horses?”
He nods, as if he’s just as confused by the information as I am. “But only the miniature ones.”
Orion presses his lips together, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold back his laughter. “So if we got a horse, we’d be fine, but a three-legged cat is not allowed?”
Chadwick, completely missing the sarcasm, says, “Technically, yes.”
I rub a hand over my face. “So what does that mean for us?”
Chadwick explains the hotel’s policy about emotional support animals versus service animals, clearly repeating something he’s been trained to say while hoping no one argues.
Exhaling slowly, I acquiesce and hand over my credit card. “Fine. Put it on the card.”
Sass presses his nose against my cheek, purring harder, like he knows I’m seconds from committing a crime.
“Look at him,” Orion says, gesturing to my cat like a lawyer defending his client. “Does that look like a two-hundred-dollar face to you?”
The man smiles back weakly. “Sir, that’s above my pay grade.”
Chadwick clicks at his keyboard for a beat too long, frowning at the monitor like he’s alarmed at what it’s telling him.
“Uh,” he says finally, squinting. “Earlier, you said ‘two beds.’ It looks like your booking is for a king suite.”
Orion leans forward. “No, no—two beds.”
Chadwick shakes his head, sympathetic but unmoved. “Sorry, sir. All our doubles are sold out. There’s a concert this weekend. The best I can do is a pull-out sofa.”
Groaning like the drama queen he is, Orion accepts his fate. “Fantastic. I’ll just sleep folded like a lawn chair. My chiropractor will love that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to muster up some patience to deal with his theatrics. My prosthetic’s throbbing, my shoulders ache, and Sir Sassafras has started purring against my throat again—probably because he can feel the tension radiating off me.
“Fine,” I mutter. “King’s fine. I’m not picky.”
Orion smirks. “Oh, you heard him, Chadwick, a king is fine. We’re basically a married couple now. Do we get a honeymoon discount?”
Chadwick blinks. “Um—”
I shoot Orion a look sharp enough to draw blood. “Dude. Stop.”
Sass chirps softly, maybe to remind me not to murder anyone in front of witnesses.
Once the paperwork’s done, Chadwick prints the receipt, hands over our key cards, and confides in us as we walk away. “For what it’s worth… he is really cute.”
“The cat’s got more rizz than both of us.” Orion bumps my shoulder as the elevator doors close. “You realize you just spent two hundred bucks to share a bed with a cat that thinks you’re his tree, right?”
“It’s worth every penny.”
The elevator doors close behind us with a metallic sigh. The moment we’re alone, I let out a deep exhale and try to stifle the shaky breath that tries to bleed out frustration and only manages to stir up everything I’ve been avoiding.
Orion elbows me lightly. “You good?”
“Peachy,” I grumble.
He grins. “You sure? You’ve got that ‘two seconds from punching drywall’ look on your face.”
“You know me better than most, Orion. You should know by now that’s just my face.”
The elevator dings.
It doesn’t take us long to find the room, and it’s much nicer than I expected—warm wood tones, crisp sheets, a small city view that makes Nashville’s skyline look almost peaceful.
Orion drops his bag by the door and whistles low.
“Man, look at this singular king-sized bed. One of us could starfish on it.”
“If you even think about getting in bed with me, I will suffocate you with a pillow and not feel an ounce of remorse.”
“Kinky.” He breaks out into loud, unrepentant laughter as I level him with a glare.
Sass hops down from my shoulders and trots over to the bed with surprising grace for a three-legged cat. He sniffs the comforter before flopping down dead center like he just paid for the room himself.
“I guess we know who’s getting the bed,” Orion says, as if he hadn’t already claimed the sleeper-sofa. He mutters something about a shower and disappears into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him.
The hum of the city seeps in through the window, carrying horns, laughter, and music from a nearby bar. It’s beautiful, in the way big cities are when you’re just passing through. Alive and impersonal.
Tomorrow, Umbra plays.
Tomorrow, she’ll be here.
Celeste.
Her name rolls silently in my head like it’s a live wire.
The thought of seeing her again twists in my chest, something sharp and stupid.
I tell myself it won’t happen—that she’ll be backstage, that the odds of crossing paths in a sold-out stadium are slim.
If I’m honest with myself, I don’t technically know what she does for Umbra, just that she works closely with them.
The pathetic and hopeful part of me knows I might not catch a glimpse of her.
But she’s the reason I said yes.
The possibility of seeing her again sets my skin on fire.
I can lie to Orion all day, but I can’t lie to myself.
I lean back on my hands, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” I whisper under my breath.
Sass meows softly, hopping up beside me, and presses his head against my ribs.
“I know,” I murmur, rubbing his side. “But he doesn’t know about Celeste and me, and he is just trying to get me out of the house.”
He purrs harder. That’s his answer for everything. Maybe he’s right. Maybe healing isn’t about being ready. Maybe it’s just about showing up.
Still, the mirror across the room catches my reflection. I look like a man held together with scar tissue and stubbornness with my broad shoulders, tired eyes, and the faint line of the prosthetic under my sweats.
I’m not exactly the picture of someone who deserves her. She saw me at my best when I was confident and whole.
What happens when she sees this version?
Orion walks back in the room and pulls out the sleeper sofa. After Orion turns the lights out, he breaks the silence. “You’re thinking too loud again.”
I glance over where he should be on the sofa, and I picture him with his hands behind his head, eyes closed. “You can’t even see me.”
“I don’t need to. I can literally hear the wheels turning in your brain.”
“Go to sleep, Orion.”
“Bitch, I am sleeping. You go to sleep.”
I shake my head, pulling the blankets up. Sass immediately curls against my chest, purring like a tiny heartbeat. The warmth seeps in slowly, the noise in my head dulling just enough to breathe.
Tomorrow is a battlefield I’m not ready for.
But tonight—
Tonight I have a loyal cat, a best friend snoring next to me on the sleeper-sofa, and the faint hum of a city that doesn’t care who I used to be.
It’s not peace.
But it’s close enough.