Chapter 12

Jory

“I can’t believeyou two are finally old enough to come home with me,” I say as I carefully load Mr. Whiskers and Cheeto into their carriers. “Good thing Bryson and I already got all of your stuff at home, hmm?”

The tiny meows are making me grin as I take the time to clean out the two-tower kennel they were in since I’m positive by the end of the day, there’ll be another cat or two to take their place. Once I have fresh litter in a cleaned-out box, I give it a onceover then pick up the carriers and head out to the front to finish filling out the paperwork to officially adopt them.

“Finally, huh, girl?” Joanna, the clerk, asks as she hands me a clipboard. “I’m just going to copy your forms instead of making you fill them out twice. How’s Peaches doing with Bryson?”

I burst out laughing, startling the kittens causing them to yowl in response to my boisterous laughter, then say, “So, apparently, she likes socks. And, since Bryson’s a guy and he does laundry about once every two weeks, and in between, he misses the hamper more often than not, well, Peaches took his socks and basically had them lined up down the wall and outside into the hallway. When he woke up and realized he forgot to latch the cage fully, she had already started chewing them. It’s like she had a smorgasbord or something!”

“Oh, she’s got puppy in her for sure,” Joanna replies, laughing.

“Hold on, he sent me a video,” I state, pulling out my phone. “I’m not sure what’s funnier, his one-sided monologue with her, or how she looks so proud as if she did something good!”

Soon, Joanna is laughing as hard as I was when he sent it to me. “Can you ask him if we can post it on our social media page? Somehow, I think this kind of exposure would benefit the animals.”

“What a great idea! I’ll definitely ask him and let you know.”

“Thanks, Jory. You do so much for us here, and every idea benefits the animals. Do you… do you think you’d be willing to talk at the next town meeting? There’s another referendum on the agenda for a new shelter. I think you’d make a difference and then maybe we could build a better shelter.”

“I can try. How much time do I have to speak on behalf of the shelter?” I ask, my mind already spinning with ideas.

“Ten minutes. It sounds like a lot, but it’s really not because it goes so fast.”

Nodding my head, I tell Joanna, “Then I better see what I can come up with and go over it with you before it happens.”

* * *

Grabbing the to-go containers, I thank Lissie then head out of the diner and back to my car. Bryson’s at the fire station so I told him I’d bring him some food since the meal being cooked at the station isn’t one he’s particularly fond of, liver and onions.

Since I don’t like that either, I was totally happy to grab him some lunch so we could see each other. I’m still getting used to his swing shifts, and I won’t lie and say I don’t worry every time he goes out on a call, but I trust that he knows what he’s doing. Still… I already know how frail life can be, so I take any opportunity to see him.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because our relationship is shifting. I stay at the farm when he’s working so Peaches has some human interaction and attention, which means that Mr. Whiskers and Cheeto are becoming accustomed to traveling from one place to another. While we haven’t done much more than some heavy necking, I want more. I just don’t know how to ask him. Maybe it’s something I’ll ask Desi, although in reality, she’s about as clueless as I am about most things like this.

“Hey, sweetheart, let me get that for you,” Bryson says walking out from the side door. He leans down and kisses me before he takes the bag and curves his free arm around my shoulders.

“Wait until you see the pictures I got this morning,” I tease as we walk into the fire station and toward the kitchen.

He motions for me to sit, setting the bag down and walking toward the refrigerator. “We have lemonade and sweet tea, Jory. Which would you prefer?”

“Lemonade, please,” I reply, getting the containers out of the bag and setting them aside with the plastic cutlery and napkins.

Once we’re finally sitting down and eating, I slide my phone toward him with the pictures already open. He starts chuckling when he sees how Peaches is fascinated by Mr. Whiskers, while Cheeto chases her tail. “Wait, let me show you the video of Peaches outside while I get the eggs,” I tell him, giggling.

The video starts and it shows me going into the coop with Peaches outside the fencing. As the chickens race around their enclosure, grabbing at the feed I’ve tossed down, Peaches softly woofs as if she’s trying to get them to mind her. One of the chickens walks over to where Peaches is standing and starts clucking as if to tell her she has no clue who she’s messing with. Peaches’ head turns from side to side like she’s listening intently, then she woofs again as if to say she understands. While I fill up the trough and put in some cut up oranges, Peaches continues to try and direct the chickens, as if she instinctively knows what she’s supposed to do. Meanwhile, none of the chickens are paying her any attention whatsoever, content to eat and drink while I gather the eggs.

“I swear, these are hysterical,” he says through his laughter. “And you managed to pet Max and Benny? Are you an animal savant or something?”

“They recognize my voice from the shelter, Bryson. I told you they weren’t truly feral, but because they were found abandoned on some property when the owners moved, the shelter director felt they’d be better as barn cats.”

“Well, they’ll always have a home with us,” he states, his hand reaching out to grab mine. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

“I’m a little bit nervous, to be honest,” I admit. “What if it hurts?”

“They’ll likely use a numbing cream on areas they feel are sensitive, sweetheart,” he replies. “Plus, I’ll be right there distracting you, remember?”

“Better get more animal videos then,” I tease.

“It’s going to be just fine, Jory,” he advises. “Now, I need to get back to work as much as I hate admitting it, because I enjoy spending time with you. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I thought I’d go by my apartment, do some laundry, maybe take a nap or something,” I confess. “Then later, I’ll head back over to your house with the kittens so we’re ready to go bright and early tomorrow.”

“Good plan, baby,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my lips. “Go ahead and pack a bag, too. I want to be able to help you take care of the tattooed areas so you’re going to stay with me if that’s okay.”

We walk out to my car, our fingers laced together; his so calloused from the work he does plus what he’s done on the farm, mine softer because despite the job I have, I wear gloves. Not only that, but I have my lotioning routine to thank as well.

Before I get inside, he takes me into his arms and kisses me, pouring all the promise of our future in one simple act. He opens the door and I sit down, then the butterflies swarm as he leans in, buckles me up, then kisses me again. “See you later, baby,” he whispers against my lips.

“Stay safe, Bryson,” I reply, my tone breathless.

As I drive away, the need pulsing through my body shocks me. Every morning I wake up cuddled in his arms, I feel his hard cock pressed against my center, and it’s left me feeling antsy and unsettled. Desi would probably tell me just to talk to him, and I know I should, I just don’t know how to broach the subject.

Straight on, sweetheart, my mother whispers in my head. Don’t beat around the bushes, just tell him what you’re feeling. Communication is critical to a good relationship.

“Good idea, Mom,” I murmur as I drive to my apartment. Well, loft, but there are apartments in the building as well. It stinks that I’m up on the fourth floor, but the price is right and so is the space since it’s just me. Well, me, Mr. Whiskers, and Cheeto.

* * *

“You two are adorable!” I exclaim as I sort my clothes. They’re currently jumping in the piles while chasing each other’s tail.

Once the laundry has been started, I head into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water. I need to do some yoga to calm down so I can think things through and create a game plan for talking to Bryson. After I change into my yoga clothes, I set out my mat, start my playlist, then begin.

Thirty minutes later, I’m calm but laughing my ass off because each position I went into, Mr. Whiskers or Cheeto was right there. During downward dog, the two of them were on my back, kneading my skin beneath my camisole.

“Alright, you guys, let’s take a nap then we’ll shower, pack a bag, and head over to Bryson’s, okay?” I ask while putting everything away. I should shower now, but I’m too relaxed, so a nap it is.

* * *

Smoke fills the room and I choke, trying to draw in a clean, fresh breath of air. My lungs are screaming in protest as agony races through my body…

I wake up gasping, the old nightmare dissipating, as I glance around my small home. The problem is, I still smell smoke. Jumping out of the bed, I grab both kittens and put them into their carrier, and set my purse on top while I check to see what the hell’s going on.

“This can’t be happening,” I mutter when I hear the unmistakable, blaring chirps of multiple smoke alarms. “We’ll never get out of here, we’re on the fourth floor.”

When I check my front door, I feel the heat radiating off of it, so I know my only avenue for escape is closed to me. Grabbing my phone, I dial 911 and when the dispatcher answers, I quickly give her the information needed, then tell her I’m trapped in my apartment. I head to the window that faces the outside of the building and look down, already seeing multiple fire trucks down there.

“Dammit, why hasn”t the landlord fixed the rest of the fire escape?” I yell, frustration and fear rolling off me. I had reported it months ago, but with everything else going on, after calling the office multiple times, I kind of forgot about it. Hopefully, when the firefighters see that, they’ll file it in a report or something. I don’t claim to understand how all that works, but I do know we’re supposed to have working fire escapes and two exit points available to us for just this reason since the elevators are not accessible during a fire.

I open the window and put a white towel on the ledge, praying that someone will recognize that a person is trapped inside. Looking down, I realize if I fashion a rope, I can lower the cat carrier to the fire escape just below me.

“Hold on, babies, I’ve got this,” I tell the two kittens, who are yowling in protest at being cooped up. “Two clean sheets, tied together, should be long enough, right?” I ask the empty room. “Yeah, that should work.”

After ensuring that my knots are tight, I pull the sheets through the handle and carefully pick it up and head to the window. “God, let this work,” I whisper, tears freely flowing down my face. I can see the ladder trucks now extending their ladders upright as I slowly lower the carrier to the platform below.

“Jory!” I hear. Glancing to my left, I see Bryson through his mask and in all his uniformed glory making his way up the ladder. “We’re coming to get you, sweetheart, just hold tight.”

My throat is so tight, I can’t speak so all I do is nod. When the carrier reaches the fire escape, there’s a fireman already there to pick it up and carry it down the ladder, leaving me alone to wait for Bryson, who is coming up alongside him, his focus on me.