4. Leo （Now）
Leo (Now)
Leo woke with a splitting headache and the realization that his cat, Fred, was missing again. This was a common problem with Fred, unfortunately.
It all started when Fred joined him on his walk back home from a fire station shift.
Leo hadn’t been sure what drew Fred to him that morning.
But, next thing he knew, there was a gray-brown tabby with white patches on his face, chest, and ears, striding alongside Leo as if the cat knew which way was home.
Leo chatted him up, scratched his ears, and half expected the cat to leave as he went inside his apartment.
But Fred planted himself just outside Leo’s window and meowed incessantly until Leo came out again.
That being said, Fred made it clear he didn’t want to come inside.
Instead, he wanted Leo’s full attention and whatever he had in his kitchen—until he decided he didn’t.
It took a while to find suitable food for Fred, though, as Leo’s apartment was stocked with little except protein shakes, ground coffee, and pizza.
The crew at the fire station fed him much better than he ever fed himself at home, and downtown had enough options within a short walk anyway.
But Leo knew enough about cats to know cheese and dairy were a hard ‘no.’ The table scraps he scrounged up could spell disaster because of the seasonings.
But the scruffy little guy was just so darn irresistible, he couldn’t help himself from trying to please.
Instead of crashing in front of the television until he passed out, Leo walked down to the grocer’s and back with a stack of cat food cans.
So he earned Fred’s devotion, at least when it came to food—and at least at first.
Still, Fred was skittish at unexpected moments, even after Leo was religiously feeding him twice a day.
He wondered if Fred was playing him, if he actually had a family he suddenly remembered he needed to see.
But Fred never disappeared for more than a day or two.
He had no collar. No marking to indicate he’d been tagged or chipped.
And he was still pretty skinny if he was getting meals around the block.
But at some point, Leo simply had to know if Fred belonged to someone else.
He borrowed a carrier from one of his fellow firefighters, scrubbed it clean, lined it with a soft towel, and thought—given all the food—it would be easy to convert Fred into a house cat.
Or a firehouse cat. He knew the crew would love to have one.
But when Leo showed Fred the carrier, Fred ran off like Leo had insulted his mother.
Then it happened every time. Just one squeak of the metal-hinged door or one clank of the plastic handle, and Fred bolted.
It got to the point Leo couldn’t even think about the carrier without Fred somehow reading his mind.
Perhaps it was Leo’s growing anxiety around trapping him.
He was sure Fred could pick up on that sort of thing.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. Fred made it clear the carrier wasn’t happening.
Leo released the idea of trapping him and, instead, tried to lure Fred into his apartment.
With a can of food on a rainy or snowy day—especially when there were loud noises outside like the garbage truck—luring him in was easy.
The problem was letting him out. Fred would settle in until the chaos outside diminished, then he’d act like Leo was keeping him prisoner.
The dramatics went as far as a front door that was off its hinges once.
Leo could understand the broken screen. Maybe a broken window.
But the busted door convinced him he just needed to let Fred be Fred.
Still, he wished he could get Fred regular check-ups, maybe take him to a trap-neuter-release.
It was times like these he wished Autumn Ridge had a mobile vet.
If they could surprise Fred inside the apartment, perhaps this saga would’ve ended long ago.
But there was only one vet in town—with limited hours and more interest in farm animals than dogs and cats, it seemed.
If Fred got a wound, he had to ask around for ideas and leftover medication.
When Lynne still had Mazzy, she was his go-to for help.
Or his coworkers at the firehouse. It was only after The Nine formed that he started gaining confidence—finding better, saner ways to navigate the outdoor cat chaos, when all he’d really wanted for Fred was to live the rest of his life safe inside, getting cuddled.
Leo tried to coax Fred from his stray-for-life behaviors for over a year before he settled into the idea that Fred was more like his roommate than his cat.
Fred came and went as he pleased, disrupted Leo in the middle of the night, left messes he refused to clean up, and didn’t pay a cent toward the rent.
If that wasn’t like a roommate, Leo didn’t know what was.
He could love and care for Fred, but he wasn’t going to change him.
So when Leo cursed his phone beside his bed for its incessant chirping, he wasn’t quite surprised to find a photo of Fred plastered on his screen.
Again, this was normal. Everyone in town who had his phone number had texted him Fred’s whereabouts at some point.
Minka even suggested they open a social media account, @WheresFredMarch, when they thought they could still wrangle a tracking collar on him.
But multiple attempts and hundreds of dollars later, they gave up on that, too.
The collars rarely made it past the end of the block.
Leo scrolled through The Nine’s messages, growing more concerned.
Texts showing Lynne was clearly panicked.
Another photo of a litter hidden in O’Donnell’s utility closet.
Implications that Fred was the father. Then he turned to his bedroom window and saw sunlight pouring through another broken screen.
“Of course,” Leo moaned. At least he kept extra window screens stocked in his linen closet for the inevitable prison breaks like these.
Be right there, he texted everyone.
Only one reply came back. Lynne’s: Hurry.
This is what Lynne had been predicting every time she reminded him to get Fred neutered. And he knew he should. But even she had tried to help him trap Fred a few times—to no avail.
Truth be told, O’Donnell’s was the last place he wanted to be right now.
Not after last night. Somehow, without even intending to, he’d pissed off Lynne again.
That stupid, too-tight disco jumpsuit was crumpled on the floor beside the bed as a glaring reminder.
He kicked it aside as he pulled on some sweatpants and his favorite ARFD sweatshirt and made his way to the kitchen.
Fred and the kittens were at least safe enough he could take the time to brew some coffee.
He’d bring Lynne a thermos—a peace-offering or possibly a weapon of defense if she tried to strangle him.
After all, he’d already blown all her patience with him last night.
Drank too much, talked too much, and looked like an idiot doing it. No shortage of shame there.
He just wished he and Lynne could get back what they once had.
She’d been keeping him at arm’s length ever since her father died.
But he still needed her. Like yesterday, after an unsettling text message appeared: Happy birthday, Leo.
It’s Mike. Leo hadn’t saved his older brother’s number.
Hadn’t asked how Mike got his. They hadn’t spoken in years.
So Leo locked his phone and told himself he’d deal with it later.
But he could barely keep himself from calling Lynne and sharing.
Not because she’d know why Mike was suddenly trying to get ahold of Leo, but because she was the only other person in town who knew Mike like he did—really well then not at all.
If he’d been smarter, he would’ve brought it up when she walked him home instead of asking her about his dad again.
Shit, that really had pissed her off. Why did Fred have to go and knock up this bar cat on top of it? He was never going to live this down.
Leo grabbed some cold pizza from the fridge just as the coffee finished percolating, poured two thermoses for him and Lynne, and aimed for the door. On the way out, he grabbed one of Fred’s cat food cans and shoved it in his pocket, just in case.
It was still cool despite the bright morning sun, and Leo’s phone kept buzzing in his pocket on his brief walk to the bar.
He knocked at the door, and when Lynne opened it to find a thermos thrust in her direction, her visibly furious face softened in relief.
“I was going to ask what took you so long. But instead I’ll ask how you knew I needed this. ”
Leo shrugged. “I figured I wasn’t the only one. Hope you still like extra cream, no sugar. Because that’s what’s in there.”
She grabbed the thermos from his hands and sipped. “That’s perfect.”
Lynne ushered him inside and lapped up half her coffee in one long guzzle. Watching her chug it back felt better than any thank you she could’ve said.
“So I hear my roommate’s causing trouble again,” Leo said. “Thanks for not calling the cops on him.”
“I told him he was in big trouble, but it didn’t faze him.”
“Yeah, threats are pointless when you’re talking to a guy who has no shame.”
Lynne smirked over the edge of her thermos. “So you speak from experience.”