Chapter Sixty-One Aurora / Joshua #2
The next thing I knew, I was in the elevator, pressing the button for the garage. The doors opened with a soft chime, and the air was colder down there, empty and echoing. I scanned the shadows, expecting to see two bright little eyes peering up at me.
Nothing.
I frowned, walking toward the corner where the kitten had been. Gone. I crouched down anyway, checking behind the tyres, the trash bins, even under a damn car. Still nothing.
“Great,” I muttered.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and stepped out through the garage exit into the alley. The smell of wet asphalt hit first, and then, rain.
Soft at first. Then heavier.
It started soaking through my hoodie, but I didn’t move. Just tilted my head back, letting the drops hit my face.
I used to hate this. But right now? I didn’t really feel anything; it was just… rain. I wiped the water from my eyes and kept walking further down the alley, calling quietly, “Hey, little troublemaker.”
No answer, just the echo of the rain against concrete.
Where the hell did that thing go?
The rain picked up harder, thunder rumbling in the distance, not loud enough to panic me, but close enough to twist something tight in my chest. Still, I kept looking. Peering into corners, under old crates, behind the fence. No cat. Just shadows and rain.
I sighed, soaked through now, breath fogging in the cold air. Gosh… where is that fucker? But I kept walking, searching anyway, because Aurora would cry if she found out it was missing, and I didn’t find it. And I couldn’t handle that, not ever again.
Half an hour.
That’s how long I’d been walking in the damn rain, shoes soaked, hoodie dripping, every streetlight reflecting off the wet pavement. My hair was plastered to my forehead, and the only thing keeping me going was the thought of Aurora’s face if I came back empty-handed.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I cut back through the alley toward the garage. “Alright, that’s it,” I muttered to myself. “She’s gonna kill me if I get sick.”
Then I heard it.
A small, cracked meow.
I stopped dead. Turned slowly toward the sound. Another faint meow, higher this time, from somewhere behind the dumpster.
I jogged over, heart kicking a little faster. “Hey,” I called softly, crouching down. “You in there?”
There was movement… a scuffle, then another soft cry. I frowned, leaned closer, and finally saw it. Inside the dumpster, sitting right on top of a pile of garbage, was the tiniest black kitten I’d ever seen.
Completely soaked.
Shaking.
And… wearing a banana peel like a hat.
I actually blinked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The little thing let out another pitiful meow, and that was it. Whatever line I thought I had about not adopting another one disappeared.
“C’mere, little idiot,” I murmured, reaching in. The rain was still falling, cold against my arms, but the kitten was colder. I scooped it up gently, and it immediately clung to my hoodie with tiny claws, trembling.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said softly, brushing bits of trash off its fur. “You stink, but you’re fine now.”
I wiped away the muck on its head, peeled off the banana like I was unwrapping something fragile. The kitten blinked up at me with wide, scared eyes, all black fur and tiny paws.
“Damn,” I muttered, rubbing the little thing to warm it up. “You’re actually kind of cute.”
It meowed again, quieter this time, and curled against my chest. I sighed, pressing my chin lightly to its head.
“Alright, little guy,” I muttered under my breath, adjusting the tiny black kitten in my arm. The thing was barely the size of my palm, damp fur clinging to my hoodie, eyes blinking like it couldn’t quite process the world yet. “You’re safe now. We’re going—”
Then I froze.
There was a sound behind me.
A small, shaking voice.
“J-Joshua?”
I turned around fast, heart dropping.
She was standing there, a few feet away, under the pouring rain. Hair soaked. Hoodie clinging to her. Eyes red, glassy, tears and rain running together down her cheeks.
My chest clenched so hard that I could barely breathe.
“Aurora—what are you—”
“You were gone,” she cried out, voice breaking. “You were gone for so long, and it was raining, and you don’t like the rain, and—” Her breath hitched. “And I thought something happened.”
God.
That tiny, trembling voice shattered me.
I took two steps forward before she could say another word and pulled her into my chest, kitten and all. She gasped softly but clung to me right away, fists clutching my soaked hoodie like she needed proof I was really there.
“Hey, hey,” I whispered against her hair. “I’m okay. I’m right here, yeah? You shouldn’t have come out, Princess.”
“But you—” she mumbled into my chest, her voice muffled and shaking, “you were gone for half an hour.”
I sighed and pulled back just enough to look at her face. Raindrops hung off her lashes, her lips trembling, cheeks flushed pink from the cold.
“You’re drenched,” I said softly. “You shouldn’t be out here; it’s freezing.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I thought you weren’t okay.”
I shook my head, exhaling a small laugh that was half choked with relief, half disbelief. “You’re insane, you know that?”
She looked up, confused, and before she could ask why, I leaned down and kissed her. Not the kind of kiss that started fast or rough, but the kind that happens when you can’t believe someone loves you that much.
The rain hit our skin harder, cold against the warmth of her mouth, her soft lips parting against mine as I pulled her closer. She tasted sweet. Like rain and tears and everything soft, I didn’t deserve.
When I finally pulled back, I pressed my forehead to hers, both of us breathing hard. “Let’s get them all cleaned up, yeah?”
She nodded, eyes glassy but calmer now, and I smiled faintly, handing her the kitten.
She cradled the little black fur ball instantly, whispering to it as if it were made of glass. “You’re safe now, baby. You’re okay.”
And I… folded.
Completely.
For Honey.
For this tiny stray.
For the girl standing barefoot in the rain with a kitten in her arms, who thought about me before herself.
I slipped an arm under her knees, another around her back, and lifted her bridal-style. She gasped softly, looking up at me, and I just shook my head.
“Don’t argue,” I muttered, walking toward the elevator with her in my arms. “You’re soaked.”
She smiled against my shoulder, still petting the kitten as we stepped inside. By the time the doors closed, she’d tucked her head under my chin, whispering softly to the kitten about ‘how brave he was’ and ‘how proud Honey will be.’
I glanced down at her, the girl who made me walk through the rain for a cat and made it worth every damn second, and couldn’t help but smile. It was so ridiculous, but she was just so precious.
She made Joshua Lockhart worship her, and that—that was impossible.
Just not to her.