Page 15 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
"I like to think of myself as practical."
Despite our argument, we fall into a quiet rhythm. Lucia sorts and stacks adoption paperwork while I dismantle the heavier display structures, our bodies moving around each other with the unconscious choreography of people who once fit together perfectly. Every time she leans close to hand me something, my pulse kicks up like a teenager's, but I manage to focus on the work. Barely.
When she reaches for a box of flyers that's clearly too heavy, I intercept it before she can strain herself.
"Watch it," she warns, but her tone has lost some of its sharp edge.
"I've got it."
"You always think you've got everything."
The comment stings because it's not true. I don't have her. And the weight of that loss sits on my chest like a stone.
Her grip slips on the cat carrier in her hands. The carrier rattles as its occupant slides inside with a pathetic meow of protest. Without thinking, I catch the carrier one-handed, holding it steady while she scrambles to regain control of the other end.
The carrier settles with a few more indignant meows from its occupant, but no harm comes to them.
Lucia stares at me, her face flushed from exertion and the cold, her lips slightly parted in surprise. For a moment, we're frozen like that,me holding the carrier, her standing close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
"I had it," she says quietly, but there's no heat in it anymore.
"I know you did," I reply, even though we both know that's not true.
The moment stretches between us and I feel it again. Something deep and desperate claws inside my chest like a vicious little animal trying to escape. My hands slide across the cat carrier and an electric current runs through my stone body the instant my fingers touch hers.
"Why won't you ever just let me help you, Lulu?" The words slip out before I can stop them, rough and quiet enough that only she can hear. “Just let me make things right.”
She exhales and for a moment, the air between us is loaded with the weight of things unsaid.
Chapter Seven
Lucia
Whywon’tIletyou help me?
Because every second I spend with you is like a delicious torment I can’t seem to shake myself free from. Because the more I let you be around, the more I fool myself into believing in things that I know can never be.
Because too much has happened between us to ever be able to set things straight.
“Fine,” I mutter, surprising myself with the even tone of my voice. “You’re right. Thanks for the help. It would have taken meforever and the kittens are beginning to get cold now that the little heater is packed up.”
Like an actor waiting for his cue, the orange kitten's plaintive meow cuts through the cold evening air. He’s the last one out. All the others are waiting, safe and secure in the truck.
Waiting for their new families to pick them up in a few days. All except this one.
It’s not fair, but it doesn’t surprise me, either. I look down to see the orange kitten pawing at his carrier door, his green eyes bright and utterly convinced that freedom is just a latch away. Heat blooms against my throat as I unclip the door and lift him out.
“The event went as good as your mother hoped?” Gideon asked in a soft tone.
“Yeah.” I run my fingers on the top of the kitten’s head as he purrs like it’s his life’s mission. My fingertip rests for a second longer on the top of his missing ear, the result of frostbite that the vet at the shelter couldn’t fix. He’s still completely adorable in my opinion, but my opinion didn’t seem to sway the adopters as they filled out their adoption forms. “We got applications for all the kittens and most of the adult cats. They’ll spend Christmas with their new families. Well, all except this one.”
The tiny weight settles against my chest, tucking under my chin with a purr like a toy engine. His miniature paws knead my coat, and something in my chest squeezes at the sight.
"I’m so sorry no one picked you, little one," I murmur, stroking the downy fur behind where his missing ear should be. "You're quite the charmer, aren’t you?"
Gideon watches with an unreadable expression, his eyes following my fingers over the animal’s silky fur.
"I'd bring him home with me in a heartbeat, but my dad’s allergic. Has been since I was little. Mom always said it was the one thing that could make him sneeze like a cartoon character. Guess that’s why she spends all her time at the shelter. That’s where she gets her cat fixes!" I tell him, scratching under the kitten's chin until he stretches his neck almost comically. "Still, it would be nice to have someone to keep me company when I go back to the city."
