Chapter 11 Cade
CADE
I slam my fists into the steering wheel over and over. I’ve been a real fucking asshole. I know. She doesn’t deserve it. Neither does Jack, but I didn’t exactly get lessons on how to be a good brother and friend. No family nights at the dinner table for me.
It was “Be sure to drive the knife in deeper” and “Attachments get you killed.”
Stopping my assault, I exhale.
My eyes shift to a bright neon sign and my stomach growls.
First: doughnuts and coffee.
I pull into the parking lot, grabbing my hoodie from the passenger seat and tossing it over my head. Opening the door to the Dunkin’, the smell of fresh coffee grounds fill the air. My favorite.
The employee behind the counter gives me a half smile and takes my order. A large mocha cappuccino and a half dozen chocolate-frosted doughnuts. It doesn’t take long for her to set my order on the counter.
The wind picks up as I open the door to leave, and I almost drop my damn coffee. The Dunkin’ employee comes up behind me and holds the door open, then follows me out and lights up a cigarette.
I huff as I open my truck door. I am throwing my doughnuts on the front seat and setting my coffee in the center console when I hear a sound coming from the truck.
Was that a fucking cat?
I step back out of the vehicle, my eyes looking over the bed of the truck. Nothing.
I bend down, my hand pressing into the gravel as I look under the truck. I hear another little sound come from behind me. It’s in the fucking wheel well.
I crouch down, angling my eyes up, and I’m met with glowing orbs of amber staring back at me.
It really is a fucking cat.
Reaching my hand up under my truck, I wrap my hands around the black fluffy thing. Surprisingly, it doesn’t fight me. I set it on the ground in front of the truck, and it just stares up at me.
“You do know that is not a safe place to sleep, right?” Did I just speak to a cat? Eh, not the weirdest thing I’ve done lately.
The little thing begins stretching on my pant leg, kneading my leg like it’s a scratching post.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
I shoo the cat, but instead it jumps onto my hood, meowing loudly, like I offended it. It snuggles up against the windshield, making itself at home.
I roll my eyes, resigned, and head back inside to ask if I can have a cup of water. Coming back out to my truck, cup in hand, I set the cup on the ground and offer my fingers to the snoozing cat on my hood.
“Psspsspss.”
Surprisingly, the cat hops down and begins lapping up the liquid. I attempt another escape.
I sit in the driver’s seat and start to close the door when I hear the hostile employee start yelling at the cat. “Outta here, you mangy little fucker!” The cat cowers in front of the tree near the entrance, and the man kicks it.
He fucking kicked it.
I sigh, opening the door, and slowly walk over to the man.
“The hell is your problem?” he asks, taking another casual drag.
I don’t blink as I approach the offensive asshole. I ball my fists at my sides, attempting to restrain myself from knocking this fucker on his ass.
“I have very little tolerance for people who hurt things that can’t fight back,” I say in a controlled voice.
I walk over and pick the cat up, cradling it in my arms, when it hisses at the man. I look down and chuckle at it.
“Sassy little thing, aren’t you? Should we make the big bad man pay for hurting you?”
I look back at the guy and, pulling out my pocket knife, walk over to him, next to his vehicle, and shove the knife into one of his tires.
“Yo, what the fuck!” I hear him yell from behind me.
“Karma’s a bitch,” I say, cat still in hand as I walk away, flipping him off. The cat purrs in my arms.
“Aww, you liked that?”
I may not believe in magic, but I sure as fuck believe in karma.
I get in the car and set the cat down on the seat next to me, watching out the window as the employee talks on his phone.
Clearly calling the police to complain about a man slashing his tire.
I chuckle to myself as I start the engine and back out quickly. I shake my head.
Great. Now I’ve got a cat.
I look over at the small cat curled up in a little ball beside me on the seat.
I blow out a breath, resigned. “I guess you’re coming home with me.”
I make an unanticipated stop at the corner store.
There’s an entire aisle dedicated to pet food, toys, and litter.
I am not having a shit box in my house. I look over the many options and realize I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, so I grab a couple bags of assorted toys, a cardboard scratcher, and all the bags that have cat faces on them.
This cat better be fucking grateful. I walk over to the cashier, my arms full, and drop everything on the counter in front of me.
The cashier jumps at the thud. I watch as he scans the items one by one, attempting to make conversation.
“You must have a lot of cats,” the cashier quips.
Okay, so maybe I got too much. How the fuck am I supposed to know how much one of these things eat? I’ve never had a pet.
“Your total is $186.68.”
I hand him two hundred-dollar bills, take the bags as he passes me my change, then casually exit the store. Back in the truck, I address the cat curled up next to me.
“You’re shitting outside, got it?”
The cat looks up at me and yawns, settling itself back in a ball. I guess it’s kind of cute.
Pulling into our driveway, I notice Jack’s truck is gone. That didn’t take long, I suppose. Hopefully they stay out of trouble, if that’s even possible for Jack.
I open the truck and the cat jumps out, staying at my heels as I pull the pet items out of the truck bed.
Stepping through the front door, the cat runs in and hops up on the kitchen counter, wrapping her tail around her legs as she begins licking her paw.
“You have a habit of making yourself at home, don’t you?” I scoff, pulling two bowls from the cupboard. I fill one with water and set them both on the ground.
I tear into one of the bags of cat food, and at the sound of the kibble, the cat jumps down and attacks the food.
“You’re her problem now,” I say, grabbing a pen and piece of paper out of the kitchen drawer. “But I swear if you piss on my fucking couch, you’re staying outside.”
The cat doesn’t even acknowledge me. I check the time on my phone. Fuck, I need to leave. I quickly run to the door before the cat gets any ideas about following me and make a beeline for my truck.