10. Mike
Chapter ten
Mike
T he red and blue lights of the police cruiser flash outside the shop, reflecting off the shattered glass on the ground.
Officer Nathan Cooper steps out, his familiar no-nonsense expression softened slightly when he spots Becky. Nathan and I go way back—he’s one of the guys I trust implicitly in this town.
He gives me a nod before turning his attention to Becky, who looks pale but composed.
“Nathan,” I say, walking over to meet him. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“Of course,” he replies, shaking my hand. His gaze shifts to Becky, his tone turning gentler. “Miss Gibson, I’m sorry this happened. Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
Becky clutches the note in her hands as she explains everything—about the fire, the brick, and the escalating threats from Paul. I stay close, watching the way her voice wavers but never breaks. She’s stronger than she realizes, but I can see the fear she’s trying to mask.
Nathan listens intently, jotting notes in his pad. When she finishes, he leans against the counter, his expression serious. “Based on what you’ve described, it’s clear this is harassment. I strongly recommend filing a restraining order against Paul. It’ll put legal pressure on him to stay away, and if he doesn’t, we’ll have grounds to escalate.”
Becky nods, her fingers tightening around the paper. “I’ll do whatever I need to,” she says, her voice steady despite the tremor I can see in her hands.
“Good,” Nathan says, offering her a reassuring smile. “We’ll also increase patrols around the shop and your place. And make sure you have good insurance on the shop—it’ll help cover any damages if something like this happens again.”
Becky glances at me, and I can tell she’s overwhelmed by the sheer number of things to handle. “Mike, can you—?”
“Don’t worry,” I interrupt, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take care of it together.”
Nathan gives me a knowing look before wrapping up his report. “You’ve got a good guy here,” he says, tipping his hat. “If anything else happens, call me immediately.”
“How about a cup of coffee?” I want to get some details from Nathan without alarming Becky. She says she’s going to go for a walk to the café and see if she can ask around about the events of the day. It’s not far, and I know she will be around friends, so I acquiesce.
We go back to the firehouse, and Nathan gives me the background on Paul and his suspicions after I tell him all that I know.
Nathan leans back in his chair at the firehouse, cradling a steaming mug of coffee in one hand while giving me a knowing look.
“You’re getting attached to that little furball, huh?” he teases, nodding toward B., who is curled up on my lap, purring like a tiny motor.
I glance down at her, scratching gently behind her ears. “She’s a good kitten,” I say, avoiding the obvious truth—I can’t seem to let her go.
Nathan chuckles, shaking his head. “Funny how things work out.”
I arch a brow. “What do you mean?”
His expression softens as he sets down his mug. “Because I was the one who found her.”
I sit up a little straighter. “You what?”
He nods, his face taking on a serious edge. “A few months ago, I got called out to do a welfare check on the old guy who lived on the outskirts of town. He ran a junkyard—one of those places full of rusted cars, broken-down sheds, all kinds of mess. His neighbors hadn’t seen him in a while and were worried.”
I listen intently as Nathan continues, his voice dropping slightly.
“When I got there, the place was a disaster. Trash piled up, car parts everywhere. But the guy? He was fine. Just old, stubborn, and didn’t think he needed anyone checking up on him.” Nathan shakes his head. “But that wasn’t what caught my attention.”
I already know where this is going, but I don’t interrupt.
“There was a little makeshift nest tucked between two old tires,” he says, his gaze distant. “Three kittens. Tiny things. No sign of the mom, and the guy didn’t care about them. Said they ‘just showed up.’”
Glancing down at B., I suddenly picture her huddled in the cold, mewing for warmth and safety.
“What’d you do?” I ask, my voice quieter than before.
Nathan exhales. “I picked them up. Figured they’d never make it out there on their own. I took them to the shelter in town—except for one.”
I raise a brow. “You kept one?”
A rare, sheepish grin crosses his face. “Yeah. The little guy wouldn’t stop climbing up my arm in the truck. I took it as a sign.”
I smirk. “Didn’t peg you as a cat guy.”
Nathan shrugs. “Didn’t peg you as one either.”
I look down at B., who is now fast asleep in my lap, her tiny body curled into the fabric of my shirt like she belongs there. Maybe she does.
Nathan nods toward her. “Looks like you got one of the others.”
The realization settles deep in my chest. “And Becky got her back,” I say.
Nathan studies me for a long moment before smirking. “Yeah, funny how that worked out.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
B. wasn’t just a kitten that wandered into my life. She had a whole story before this—one that somehow, miraculously, led her to Becky and me.
And for the first time in a long time, it feels like things are exactly where they’re meant to be.
After Nathan leaves, I pick up Becky and we head back to the ranch. She’s quiet during the ride, staring out the window as B. snoozes in her carrier on her lap. I want to say something to ease her worry, but the words don’t come. Instead, I focus on getting her home safe.
Once we’re back, Becky heads to her room to rest while I settle into the living room with B. The kitten stretches out on the couch, her tiny paws batting at the edge of a throw pillow.
“Alright, B.,” I mutter, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “How am I supposed to fix this?”
B. tilts her head, her green eyes locking on mine as if she’s waiting for an answer. I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”
That evening, Becky joins me in the kitchen, looking a little more like herself. She busies herself with tidying up, but I can tell something’s weighing on her.
“What’s on your mind?” I break the silence.
She hesitates, her fingers tracing the edge of the mug. “It’s just… all of this. The fire, the threats. I thought I’d put Paul behind me, but it feels like I’m back where I started.”
“You’re not,” I say firmly. “You’ve built something amazing, Becky. Don’t let him take that from you.”
She looks up, her eyes shining with emotion. “Thank you, Mike. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Her words hit me harder than they should, and I take a steadying breath before replying. “You’re not alone in this. I promise.”