Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
It was fluffy and mostly gray, but with a white chest and feet and a little spot on its head. When it flicked its tail up, I noted it was a girl, and she walked right up to Mary, sniffing her fingers for just a moment before she nudged her head into Mary’s palm and curled her back to get every inch of affection she could.
“Well, hello, sweet girl,” Mary cooed with a giggle, and when the cat weaved between her legs before quite literally knocking Mary onto her ass and climbing into her lap, Mary let out a loud laugh, her face lifting to the sky.
Her eyes landed on me next, and they doubled in size like a cartoon character, her long black lashes batting up at me. She was a complete contradiction in that moment — the tattooed, dark-humored artist turning soft at a cat curling up in her lap.
“Mary,” I warned. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Leo,” she pleaded, her bottom lip protruding as she held the cat up for me to get a better view. “Just look at her.”
“I see her, and I’ll say it again — don’t even think about it.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into a parking spot next to Mary.
At a fucking pet store.
Mary
Palico sat purring in my lap a few days after the Fourth of July party, her warm body curled up into a little ball. Leo didn’t stand a chance against me once I gave the little furball a name, and although he’d never admit it, I knew from just the past couple nights that he adored the thing as much as I did.
With one fingertip, I absentmindedly stroked the white spot on her head that led down to her little pink nose as I watched ESPN with Kyle and Braden.
I hated ESPN. I wasn’t following a damn thing, really, just sitting there in a comfortable silence and letting my eyes gloss over. Even though it had been a few days, it seemed we were all still recovering from the party. I’d spent most of the night in my bedroom with Palico, anyway, getting her settled and making sure the noise didn’t bother her too much.
That cat was as cool as a cucumber. She watched me most of the night with a bored flick of her tail as if to say, “You think this has anything on the streets of Boston, kid? I’ve been through worse. My question is why aren’t you out there partying?”
So, once I felt like she was comfortable, I joined the rest of the rowdy crew downstairs. And while I spent most of my night talking to Giana and Riley and steering clear of the booze, we all stayed up until sunrise, and the lack of sleep alone made it hard to get into a routine again.
I had no idea how the guys did this during football season, especially on nights when they knew they had practice the next morning.
My phone aggressively vibrating on the coffee table woke Palico, and she begrudgingly stretched and sauntered off my lap when I leaned forward to see who it was. Hope bubbled in my chest at the sight of Margie’s name, and I slipped into the kitchen to answer.
“Hey, Margie.”
“Hey, kiddo,” she greeted back, that smoker voice I loved so much filling my ears. Margie seemed less like a landlord and more like a crazy aunt who took care of you, but also was first in line to get you booze when you were underage.
“Tell me you have good news.”
Her long sigh on the other end had all that hope deflating out of me in an instant.
“Well, the pipes are fixed.”
I perked up. “Okay, that’s great.”
“Yeah… except, when they started working on repairing the walls and floors and ceiling, well… they found mold.”
I closed my eyes, forcing a slow breath. “Okay… and so that means?”
“I’m sorry, kid. It’s going to be a while.”
I cursed under my breath, sneaking a glance in the living room where Kyle and Braden were kicked back on the couch and sprawling over the entire thing like their limbs couldn’t take up enough room even if they tried. Their hair was mussed, sock-covered feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Palico had curled up right in-between them. Braden scratched under her chin as she leaned into the touch.
The sight warmed my heart.
I didn’t think it was possible, but this disgusting jock house almost felt a little like home.
The issue with that was that it wasn’t home, and I couldn’t pretend it could be for much longer. Fall was rapidly approaching, and I knew I was on borrowed time before the room I was squatting in would be assigned to another football player.
“How long are we talking?” I asked Margie.
“It’ll take a couple weeks just for them to remove the mold, but that’s just the beginning. Not sure what the repairs will look like after. They have to rip up carpet, floors, walls…”