Chapter 36
Logan
I wake up before the other two and decide to surprise them with my favorite Boston coffee. It had been a few years since I'd had it, but the place was still at a café not too far from this hotel.
I get ready as quietly as possible and head out into the city's cold air.
It's a little past seven on Sunday morning and there are more people on the street than I could have predicted, like everyone there had woken up early and gone out to get some fresh air and secure a good coffee, or simply to walk the dog before rush hour.
The fog hasn't completely lifted either, but I don't mind.
I walk several blocks until I find the old sign of the Rose Café.
I used to come here a lot with my mom when I was a kid, because I loved the latte and she loved the art-decorated setting.
There's even a small sculpture she herself donated to the owner here before we moved, and the piece is still there to the left of the counter.
It's a marble carving of the goddess Aphrodite, absolutely beautiful, and I genuinely smile when I see it.
I order my simple latte, along with Ethan and Charlie's favorite drinks: a cappuccino with a little sugar for him, and a mocha with sweetener for her.
With the drinks in the holder, I make the walk back more briskly, trying to keep everything from cooling down fast. However, my route is suddenly interrupted by a low meow. I stop for a second, trying to figure out if I actually heard something or just imagined it.
When the sound repeats, I frown and look around, searching for the source.
Planted in front of the closed door of a shop is a tiny ball of fur trembling from the cold.
"Hi, little buddy, what are you doing out here?" I ask the creature before crouching down and picking it up. It weighs less than a hot dog bun and its fur is damp, which explains the shivering, in a black coloring with a few orange patches.
I use the end of my scarf to wrap it up and press it against my chest. It meows in that kind of desperate way for two whole more minutes, until it finally seems to feel the warmth coming back. "Better now, huh, little face?"
A short little meow is what I get as an answer, and I laugh, starting to walk again.
Back at the hotel, I go in with it hidden inside my coat, since I have no idea whether they allow pets here.
I put the coffees on the table in our room and take the cat to the bathroom.
I consider drying it with the hairdryer, but it would make too much noise and could scare it even more, so I go with the hand towel.
I take it to the bedroom and sit in the armchair, setting it on my lap.
"How'd you end up out there all alone, huh?" I ask the cat, drying its little paws.
"Who are you talking to?" Ethan's groggy voice sounds through the space, and I lift my head to look at him and laugh at his crumpled face.
"The cat."
"What cat?" he asks, confused, and I get up. I wrap the cat in the towel and come closer to him.
"This one. I found it out there," I say, and the synapses in his brain finally seem to work, because he sits up in bed and his eyes go wide.
"What do you mean you found a cat, Logan Hayes? Let me see it." He holds out his hands and I hand over the little bundle of fur, which now, with only its head poking out of the towel, has fallen asleep.
"I went out to buy coffee and heard its meows in the middle of the street. It was alone in front of a shop, almost freezing, so I brought it inside," I explain while he studies the little thing and strokes its head.
"You think it doesn't have an owner?"
"I doubt it. Nobody would forget a kitten in the middle of a commercial street like that," I say, and he nods.
"Well, even if it did, if the person let it go missing it's because they didn't take good care of it," he remarks, lifting the cat up close to his face. The genuine, almost childlike smile he lets out catches me off guard.
I knew Tan hadn't had pets in childhood, because his older brother was very allergic, but apparently, it was something he really wanted.
"Yeah. Either way, now we're going to have to go looking for a home for it," I test, and he frowns.
"No, it... could stay with us," he throws out the idea, the excitement hidden in his voice. I smile at confirming that yes, the big running back of the Royals was quickly falling in love with a tiny cat.
I gesture with my hand for him to make room for me beside him on the mattress and I sit, resting my back against the rustic wooden headboard.
"I didn't even know you liked cats," I remark, and Ethan makes a shy little shrug of the shoulders.
"My neighbor had one when I was little, Tater.
When Nathan went to summer camp, I'd sometimes let it into my room and sleep on top of me.
I'd go hours without moving just so Tater wouldn't leave.
When it died, I was already about thirteen, but I was devastated," he says, and I love having this extra little piece of knowledge about him.
We'd been friends for so long, but it hadn't been very long since I'd started paying more attention to these moments together.
I nudge his shoulder lightly with mine.
"And you'd already lost the skating girl to our brother up north, right? Those were hard times for little Tan." My comment pulls a soft laugh out of him.
Unable to resist, I lean in and steal a kiss. This one starts soft and calm, like a caress, but it's no less good. Ethan always kisses with intensity, and makes the world disappear in those moments. His untrimmed stubble grazes mine and I really like the feeling.
I grab his nape and thread my fingers into the thick black hair and deepen the kiss. I genuinely consider pulling him under me, but when I press my chest against his, a meow of protest sounds through the room and we separate laughing.
I look at the cat with a tiny bit of judgment.
"You barely got here and you already want to be a cockblock?" I joke, scratching its ears and sitting up straight on the bed again.
Ethan unwraps the little thing from the towel, the ball of fur comes straight to my lap and has the nerve to try to bite my hand, like it heard what I said before. The action makes us laugh a little too loud and our girl wakes up.
Charlie sits up in bed next to us, taming the pink hair by putting it into a loose bun. She'd touched up the color recently and it was brighter than ever. It suited her a lot.
The girl yawns and lets her head fall against Ethan's shoulder before reaching an arm out to the kitten, which still meows and tries to wrap itself back up in the towel.
"Where did this little face come from?"
"I found it out there all alone," I answer her, and she uses a finger to stroke the cat's chin, and it stops complaining.
"Poor thing. Is it a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know, to be honest. I didn't look," I say, and she takes it in her hands, lifting the fluffy little tail to investigate. After a few moments of analysis, she hands it back to Ethan's lap.
"It's a girl."
"How do you know? I always see people online saying it's hard." It's Ethan who asks, also looking at the animal's private parts.
"I had cats my whole life. One of them even had a litter, so I learned to tell," she answers, and my friend seems satisfied with the explanation. He copies the stroking gesture Charlie had made and the cat almost melts in his hand.
Hard to resist him, isn't it, sweetheart?
I knew the feeling well. There weren't many creatures that would resist Ethan Clarke.
"Should we adopt her?" our human girl asks, and I nod yes.
"Ethan's already planning which cat tree will fit in our apartment," I tease, and he sticks his tongue out at me, but doesn't deny it.
"What are we going to call her?" he asks, bringing the little one up to eye level again. Indignant, the cat shakes her cute little paws.
"She's got a Katniss face." It's Charlie who says it, and I rest my head on Ethan's other shoulder to analyze better.
"The one from the movie?"
"That too, but I was thinking of the one from the book," she answers me.
"I like Katniss," Ethan remarks, lowering the little creature. This time, she runs across the blanket to my side, so I pick her up and place her on my lap.
"I like it too. A little huntress who came from the forest to the district to the big city to win her rights to be a spoiled, well-treated girl," I say, doing an affected storyteller voice. The two of them laugh.
"It's settled, then. But don't think I'm going to be her single mom, all right? We're going to take turns cleaning the litter box," Charlie decides, using the warning tone she believes looks angry, but only made us laugh more.
She settles on the bed so she can face us with a raised eyebrow.
Now that was a much more serious sign, even though Ethan and I call the expression "cute-angry" behind her back. Since we have some sense, we do the only thing left, saying together:
"Yes, ma'am."