2. Wyatt

The clinic was completely silent as the man’s offer hung in the air.

I stared at him, not sure I’d heard him correctly. Was he… Was he offering to let me and Lily stay with him? In his house?

He cleared his throat and went on, “If she doesn’t get along with cats, there’s enough room to separate them. If we—”

“No, no, she’s…” I shook myself. “She’s good with cats. But…” I blinked. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t,” he acknowledged. “But if she shouldn’t be sleeping out there, then neither should you.”

I held his gaze a moment longer. “Are, um…” I looked down at myself, shame twisting in my stomach because I wasn’t stupid—I knew what people thought when they saw me. No one who’d been living like I had for any length of time looked or smelled pleasant. Meeting his gaze again, I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t spell it out because he could probably put the pieces together well enough—did he really want someone like me in his house?

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m sure.”

The dark-haired woman who I assumed was the veterinarian cleared her throat. “Has the dog been around cats before?”

I nodded. “Yeah. The, um… The lady who trained her had cats. She made sure every dog she trained was socialized to be around them.” I managed a near soundless laugh and gestured at Lily. “She might try to play with them more than they’d like, but she won’t hurt them.”

The receptionist gave a quiet, nervous chuckle. “Well, his cats aren’t exactly lightweights, so…”

I turned to the man, and that was the first time I really noticed his two cats. I think they’d registered vaguely, but only now, as my panic was receding in favor of cautious relief, did I truly take them in.

Holy shit. Those cats were huge.

I stared at the one sitting beside him. Its head was above his knee, and he wasn’t exactly a short guy. It was gray and fluffy with long tufts on the ends of its ears, and its yellow eyes were fixed on—I assumed—Lily. It wasn’t growling or giving any signs of being hostile—ears up, posture relaxed—though its long tail twitched slightly.

When I lifted my gaze, I had to laugh at the equally huge black cat, who was perched on the man’s hip like a toddler and straining to bat at the corner of a framed photo on the wall. “Oh my God. I knew Maine Coons were big, but they’re… big.”

The guy laughed, patted the black cat, and leaned down to set it on the floor. The cat tried to cling to his shoulder, but finally gave up, twisted around, and went to the white linoleum beside the gray cat. It gave Lily a puzzled glance, then started stalking the other cat’s tail.

“They’re chill around dogs, I promise.” He gestured at the gray cat. “Moose might bully her a little to let her know who’s boss, but he doesn’t play too rough.”

I managed a smile. “Well, if they’ll play with her, she’ll be thrilled.” I was warming up to this idea even as cold skepticism tried to hold on. There was no way he was actually going to go through with this, right? This was like when someone said, “Hey, anything you need, give me a call!” but didn’t actually expect a person to call. He was probably still expecting me to insist that, no, I couldn’t possibly take him up on that offer. He was generous and kind, but no, no, I couldn’t.

The part of my brain devoted to self-preservation wanted to do exactly that, and it wasn’t because I was worried about his enormous cats. Would me and Lily be safe with him?

But between us, we might be able to fight off and escape a psycho who tried to hurt us. Lily was protective. I was combat-trained. We could hold our own.

No amount of biting or hand-to-hand combat would save us from the temperatures expected tonight. Not when what little cold weather gear we’d had was gone.

Please, please, don’t be doing this just so you can feel good about yourself.

Please don’t be hoping I’ll say no.

Unaware of my thoughts, he leaned down and patted the black cat, who was currently trying to eat the gray cat’s tail. “I won’t complain if she wants to play with them.” He tousled the black cat’s ears, earning him a swat with a giant paw. “She can wear this one out so he’ll actually sleep.”

I nodded at the gray cat, who’d flattened his ears, yanked his tail out of his brother’s range, and was currently trying to murder him with his mind. Trying not to sound too hopeful, I asked, “That one doesn’t need to be worn out?”

The guy chuckled and pointed at the black cat. “He has Bear for that.” Meeting my gaze again, he smiled. “Moose will play with her too. If he’s had enough, he’ll just glare at her until she wanders off.”

I imagined Moose and Lily having a stare down. Him watching her coolly while she cocked her head and tried to figure out why the gray lion wouldn’t play with her. My chest actually got tight imagining her spending the evening doing that instead of shivering inside my jacket while I mumbled apologies to her.

Please, please, let us be talking about something that’s really going to happen.

The veterinarian cleared her throat. “Okay, well, it sounds like the three of them would be safe in the same environment. I would still suggest introducing them carefully, though. Either through a door, or here, where they’re all on neutral territory.”

The man and I both nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “I mean, as long as we’re here… Probably better to let everyone sniff noses than wait until we’re all in the car.”

In the car. You’re… Are we really doing this? Oh, fuck, please tell me we are…

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, we can—if you’re serious about this.”

“I am.” He looked me right in the eyes like few people had since I’d been on the street. “Neither of you should be out there tonight, and I have the space.”

God, I was going to fucking cry, but I forced all that back. I knew how easily people could decide a homeless person was unstable and dangerous the moment they showed any kind of emotion or agitation. I couldn’t risk Lily’s safety, so I called on everything I could to keep my feelings out of sight.

“I appreciate that,” I said. “More than you can imagine. I’m, uh… I’m not sure how I can pay you back or anything, though.”

His smile did things to me I’d never experienced. It wasn’t just the hope and relief, it was this bizarre feeling of being on the receiving end of actual humanity. That wasn’t something that happened in the world where I’d been living.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He gestured at his cats. “Should we go ahead and introduce them?”

I watched him in disbelief, still sure he was going to bail.

When he didn’t, I looked down at my dog. “Lily, stand down.” She stepped out from between my legs, where she’d been keeping watch in case anyone came up behind me, and she dropped onto her haunches. When I patted my thigh, she jumped up and rested her front paws on my hip.

With hands that were a little unsteady for reasons I didn’t want to think about too much, I carefully undid her vest and set it on the counter. Then I told her, “Down.”

She dropped onto all fours and did a full-body shake. I patted her and told her she was a good girl. Without her vest on, she was effectively off duty. She’d still alert if I started having an episode, but that was her cue that she could relax and play or take a nap.

Or, in this case, finally notice the two enormous cats sitting a few feet away. I gave the leash a little bit of slack. Enough she could approach them, but not quite enough to completely reach them. She didn’t get a lot of opportunity to interact with cats or dogs these days, and she could get overexcited and scare them, so I was cautious.

She glanced back at me, then lowered her head and took a few steps toward the cats. The leash was still loose when she halted, and she just seemed to study them for a moment, ears up and tail wagging. That actually choked me up a little—she’d probably been desperate for some social interaction, but our situation had made that almost impossible. I suspected she was as starved for that as I was for human contact that didn’t involve threats, fear, or pity.

The cats watched her curiously. Moose was somewhat aloof—though that might’ve just been his resting bitch face—but Bear seemed enthralled by her. In fact, he was the first to get up and close some of the distance.

Lily’s tail stopped and she drew back slightly as he approached, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of this cat strolling up to her. If he noticed, he didn’t react—he just sniffed her nose.

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see how this interaction would shake out.

After ten or fifteen seconds, Lily’s tail swayed a little. A few more seconds, and it moved with more enthusiasm, wagging enough to make her butt wiggle.

Bear sat back and stared at her for a moment. Then he stood, arched his back, and bumped his side against her chest. Lily responded by dropping onto her forearms in a play bow. Bear promptly threw himself down on his side and batted at her tags.

I laughed. “Yeah, I think these two get along okay.”

“Yeah, they do.” The guy chuckled, shaking his head. “Bear, you have no survival instinct whatsoever, do you?”

“Well,” the veterinarian said, “he’s not completely exposing his belly, so there’s that.”

The man rolled his eyes. “The bar is low, isn’t it?”

“We have to keep our expectations realistic,” she mused.

Moose had been watching this whole exchange, and apparently he decided that since Bear hadn’t been eaten, it was safe to approach Lily. He got up, paused for a long stretch as if to make sure we all knew he wasn’t in any great hurry, and then strode toward Lily and Bear.

Lily’s tail slowed again, but it didn’t stop this time as she watched Moose coming closer. She didn’t even seem to notice Bear playing with her tags anymore.

Moose came around Bear and stretched out his neck to sniff noses with Lily.

Which was, of course, the exact moment that Bear noticed Moose, at which point he rolled onto his other side and bit Moose’s leg. That prompted a yowl from Moose before he whapped Bear on the head and stalked away.

Bear watched him go, eyes wide and confused as if he couldn’t figure out why the other cat didn’t want to play with him. Lily cocked her head, probably also confused as all hell.

I chuckled again as I came up and patted Lily on the rump. “Well, that was easy.”

“No kidding.” The guy leaned down to pet Moose, who’d thrown himself down by his feet and was glaring at Bear. “If that’s all the drama we’re going to get, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah, same.”

He rose again, watching me, and his expression turned somewhat sheepish. Maybe even shy. A cold pang of panic jabbed into my chest, because I was absolutely sure he’d change his mind now. Yeah, it was cute to watch our animals interact, but the reality had to be sinking in that he was inviting some random, dirty stranger in off the street to sleep in his house.

But that pang only had about two seconds to grab on.

“We, um… We should probably introduce ourselves, too.” He extended his hand over our animals. “I’m Anthony.”

I hesitated, then took off my glove since my hand was at least somewhat cleaner. As we shook hands, he didn’t recoil or wrinkle his nose in the slightest.

“Wyatt,” I said, dizzy with everything from the reality we’d be safe tonight to someone looking me in the eye, shaking my hand, and treating me like a human being. “Are, uh… You’re sure about this, right?”

Jesus, Wyatt. Stop trying to talk him out of it!

“Of course.” He tipped his head toward the windows facing out to the parking lot. “No one should be sleeping out there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was still shocked he was doing this at all, and I was afraid anything else that came out of my mouth might make him think twice. I did manage to whisper, “Thank you.”

He flashed a smile, then gestured at Lily, who was now on her side and pawing gently at Bear and trying to get him to play. “Does she need food?”

“Uh.” Shame pulled at me from the inside. “Her food was in our tent. It’s…” My face heated as I gazed down at my dog. She’d finally encouraged Bear to join in, and he was batting at her upraised paw. My voice threatened to break as I said, “I’ve been finding what I can for her, but…”

“Do you guys have something here that she can eat?” Anthony asked. “I don’t know much about dog food.”

It took me a second to realize he was talking to the clinic staff.

“Uh, well…” the tech stammered. “We do, but it’s pricey.”

Before I could insist we could just grab some grocery store dog food—I could probably even pay for it—Anthony put his wallet on the counter.

“I still need to settle up my bill for the boys’ appointment.” He pulled out a card and handed it over. “Just add a bag for her.” He paused. “Or a can?” He looked at me, expression earnest. “Dry or wet food?”

I could barely speak but somehow managed to croak, “Dry. Dry is good.” Somehow I found my breath. “I do have a little cash. I can probably grab a small bag at the supermarket and—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Anthony waved his hand. “It’s not that much.”

Not that much, my ass. I saw the price come up when the receptionist scanned it, and so did Anthony. Forty bucks for a small bag of dog food? Holy shit.

But it meant food for Lily. The really good food that came from a vet’s office. I could swallow my pride and deal with my guilt in exchange for letting my dog have some high-quality food for a night.

While the receptionist was ringing up Anthony, the veterinarian looked at me. “If you’d like, we can give your dog a quick exam. Just make sure she’s healthy after…” She trailed off, but I could fill in the blanks: make sure she was healthy after living out there.

Again, pride and guilt wanted to protest, but Lily’s health came first.

Ignoring the heat in my face, I nodded. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

She smiled and gestured for us to come back with her.

I glanced at Anthony. “Is, uh… Is this okay? It might take a few minutes.”

“Of course.” He flashed me a disarmingly sweet smile. “Anything to make sure she’s in good shape.” He paused. “And I would imagine you haven’t eaten much recently either, have you?”

My stomach growled, and I quietly admitted, “Not… Not much, no.”

That smile returned. “We’ll take care of that.” He nodded after the doctor. “When you guys are done.”

“Thank you,” I said, the words coming out thick.

Then I shouldered my rucksack and gently persuaded Lily to get up, even though she was clearly having fun with Bear. Once she was on her feet, we started down the hall with the doctor.

I really was going to break down sobbing before this night was over. I’d come in here out of desperation because I’d simply been out of ideas. None of the homeless shelters would take her; they weren’t supposed to turn away service animals, but they always magically had no room whenever I tried them. The animal shelters required me to surrender her and then pay to get her back. The few motels and hotels I could’ve dreamed of affording were either full or they said they were full.

I’d been on the brink of doing what I’d done a few weeks ago—breaking into an abandoned house to ride out a rainstorm—but even that hadn’t seemed like enough. A roof was great, but I couldn’t make this poor dog ride out a cold snap in a house with no heat.

I’d been walking through this parking lot, losing my mind as the sun had started to go down, taking the temperature with it, when I’d caught sight of the clinic.

I hadn’t thought it would actually work. At the very, very most, all I’d hoped for was a kennel she could sleep in for the night. Shelter, a little food and clean water, and heat. In my wildest dreams, I hadn’t imagined any of this.

Somehow… by some miracle… Lily was going to spend tonight in a warm house with a full belly.

And by some even bigger miracle…

So was I.