Chapter 4 #2
The kitten is tiny. Striped gray and brown, oversized ears, paws a little too big for its body. It blinks up at us like it has no idea it just detonated a bomb in the middle of my café.
“When did you get a cat?” I ask Mom, keeping my voice low, even.
“About a week ago,” she says, dabbing at her nose.
Understanding slides into place. “Allergies,” I say flatly. “You’re allergic to the cat, aren’t you?”
She sighs. “Seems that way.”
Josh strokes the kitten’s back with an admiration that makes my chest ache. The tabby reaches up, placing one paw against his cheek, and I can tell by the look on Josh’s face that it’s instant love.
“Aww, look, Mom. He likes me.” Josh’s grin is pure sunlight. “What’s his name, Grandma?”
“We haven’t been able to decide,” Mom says.
Grant lets out a dramatic exhale. “Good thing too.”
Josh looks at him, confused. “Why is that a good thing?”
Grant frowns, and lightly strokes the cat. “Harder to give it back after you name it.”
Everything inside me goes still. Because here we go…sideways.
Josh’s eyes widen. “Give it back? Give it back where? To who?”
“We adopted him from the shelter,” Mom says gently and then her eyes go wide, distraught. “Just in time too. Before, they…you know.”
Josh instinctively steps back, curling his body around the kitten like a shield. His fingers tighten protectively in the soft fur. “What do you mean just in time? Wait, what will happen to him if you have to give him back?”
“Josh,” I begin softly, already knowing the direction of this conversation, already bracing for the crash.
“Mom, no.” His voice cracks. “They can’t take him back. They’re going to put him down. Can we keep him?”
Every eye in the café shifts to me.
I swallow.
“You know we can’t,” I say, forcing steadiness into my tone. “We live above a café. The door opens and closes all day long. If a cat gets out or ends up near the food, this place could get shut down. And our apartment…” I shake my head. “It’s just too small.”
The words taste cruel, even though they’re practical. Tears pool in his eyes instantly. He tries to blink them away, but they cling stubbornly to his lashes.
I turn to Mom and Grant, my own heart splintering. “Can you find someone else to adopt him? What about Gina and Ash?”
“Allergic,” Grant says. “Already asked.”
Of course they did.
I rake a hand through my hair. “Noah? He’s got that cottage in the country.”
“Can’t risk a kitten getting loose out there,” Mom says. “I hear his big Bernese Mountain Dog Mabel recently broke the fence. Too many predators. Plus dogs and cats don’t get along.”
“There has to be someone on the team,” I mutter, glancing toward the booth. “You’d think one of the guys could…”
“You’d think,” Mom agrees. “But no. We tried.”
Josh walks back to the table like he’s carrying something sacred. Something breakable. He slides into the booth beside Nicklas, who immediately reaches over and scratches under the kitten’s chin.
“Well hey there, little guy,” Nicklas murmurs, his voice dropping into that soft register he doesn’t let many people hear.
Maybe Nicklas could—
“Achoo!” Nicklas jerks back, blinking rapidly. “Oh God,” he mutters, rubbing his nose. “I think I’m allergic too.”
“Josh, bring him over here,” I say quickly. “Away from Nicklas and the food.”
Josh stands, cradling the kitten against his chest. The tiny thing starts to purr—deep, vibrating contentment that you can almost feel in the air. The tabby crawls higher, burrowing its little face into the curve of Josh’s neck like it’s found the safest place in the world.
“Mom,” he whispers, and this time there’s no bravado. No teenage edge. Just my little boy. Sad and…fearful. “I want to keep him.”
My throat tightens. “You know we can’t,” I repeat, softer now.
“But… but…” His voice wobbles, and he looks dangerously close to breaking.
That’s when I look up. Tuck is watching us.
Our eyes meet. Lock. There’s something raw in his expression—I don’t know what exactly.
Helplessness. Guilt. But whatever it is he sees on my face, prompts him into action.
He pushes back from the table and rises to his feet without a word.
The scrape of the chair against the floor is loud in the quiet café.
“Let me see the little guy,” he says gently.
Josh hesitates only a second before handing the kitten over.
I brace myself. Wait for the inevitable sneeze.
But Tuck doesn’t sneeze. He cradles the kitten in his big hands, absurdly careful.
The contrast steals my breath—the size of him, the softness of the animal.
The kitten sniffs his flannel, then climbs, tiny claws catching lightly in the fabric.
And then it settles. Right against his chest. Curling in like it belongs there.
Like it’s found home. Tuck looks down at it, something shifting in his expression.
Something warm and unguarded and so achingly tender it makes my heart flip hard enough to hurt.
And for one reckless, impossible second, I don’t see the team captain, a man guarded around my kids.
I see a man holding something small and fragile like it matters.
Like he’d protect it. Like he already is.
“He likes you, Tuck,” Josh whispers, brushing the kitten’s soft fur between his fingers. His eyes are wide, hopeful. “Do you think—”
“I can’t take care of a cat, Josh,” Tuck interrupts gently, looking down at the tiny tabby curled in his hands.
His voice is steady, but there’s a faint tension in the way he holds himself.
“I live alone. I’m on the road all the time.
In three days, we’re away in Edmonton. It’s not fair to leave this little guy home alone that much. ”
Josh’s shoulders slump, a little, but then—
“What if…” The voice cuts in from the stairs. Lucas leans over the railing, eyes bright. “What if you keep him at your place, Tuck, just until we get a bigger place?” He glances at me. “Mom, you’re always talking about getting a bigger place.”
“Yes, but who knows when that will be.”
“So Tuck can take him temporarily but Josh and I take care of him? He’ll be our cat. When you’re away, we’ll stay at your place.” He points up. “It’s crowded here anyway.”
For a moment, the room feels suspended. Josh and Lucas exchange a glance—something quiet and brotherly, full of warmth, a little defiance, a little mischief.
My chest tightens, watching them. They bicker, they squabble, they drive me crazy sometimes, but when it matters, they’ve always got each other.
Always. That’s the kind of man I want in their lives.
“Boys,” I say carefully, trying to get this situation under control. “That’s a lot to ask of Tuck. You can’t just be running back and forth to his place, especially when he’s away on trips, and you can’t be there overnight by yourselves.”
“I’m sixteen, Mom. I drive, and maybe you can stay too. If it’s okay with Tuck.”
“Yeah,” Josh piles in. “You’re always saying how noisy and loud we are. At Tuck’s you wouldn’t even hear us.” He throws one arm out. “His place is huge.”
“Maria—” Tuck begins, but I cut him off with a small shake of my head, offering him the easy way out.
“What if he has a friend over, and wants privacy?” I point out lightly, the words casual, even though the idea of him with someone else squeezes the air from my lungs. But I have to give Tuck a way out. A way to say no without anyone looking bad.
Because I know what he is and what he isn’t, and what he isn’t is father material. Which means he’s probably not a cat guy, either. Caring for something else—something small, dependent, completely vulnerable—doesn’t fit into his life. It’s not cruelty. It’s reality.
And yet, watching him cradle that kitten like it might break if he moved too fast… part of me wonders if there’s more in him than he lets anyone see.
As Tuck’s eyes remain locked on mine, I’m about to continue my protest, but my words die a slow death when he says, “I’ll do it.”