23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

PISTON

After my talk with Milo last night—followed by making out on the couch for an hour and then leisurely jerking each other off until we came all over each other—he told me he didn't mind keeping things quiet a little longer while I wait for the right moment to talk to Hero. But now that I've stopped avoiding the subject and lying to myself about how I feel, I don't want to drag it out. I just want everything out in the open so I can deal with the consequences.

After spending the entire day working out how to say it, how to tell Hero what's been going on with Milo and me, I still don't have much more than blunt truths that might make him punch me. I won't hold it against him if that's the way it goes, I just hope once he's gotten it out of his system, we can work through it and move on.

My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating too damn hard, but I do my damnedest to look relaxed and casual as I walk over and lean against the railing near his chair. He's cleaning up after his last appointment and it takes him a second to notice I'm standing there. He does a double take and then offers me a friendly grin.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"I wanted to see if you're up for grabbing a drink once we close up shop." I manage that much in a steady voice at least, balling my fists up so he won't notice my hands shaking.

"Yeah, sure," he says easily. "Did we manage to guilt Arrow enough last night to get him to agree to come out?"

"Oh, uh…" I rub my hand awkwardly along the back of my neck. "I was thinking it could just be the two of us?"

He stops what he's doing and looks at me, his bushy eyebrows pulling together and his forehead wrinkling. "Everything okay?"

My chest tightens and I choke out a laugh that sounds just this side of manic.

"Great. Good. Everything is good." I shift my feet and brace my hands on the railing behind me. My sweaty palms are slippery against the metal and the shape of the smile on my face feels off, forced, too much.

Hero's frown deepens, but after a second, he nods. "Sure," he says again. "Give me five minutes and we can head out. What about Milo, does he have a ride home or are we dropping him off?"

I'm about to tell him Milo is going to catch a ride with Jag, but before I get the chance Arrow comes out of the back room and interrupts.

"I just got off the phone with Steele, the Big Bull guys are heading over to help his husband, Porter, with an animal hoarding situation. Sounds like they could use all the extra hands they can get."

The relief that surges through me is shameful, but I feel like I just got a stay of execution. One more day to work out the right words to tell Hero I'm messing with his son.

"Raincheck on that drink?" he says, and I nod.

It always amazes me how all of our jokes and bullshitting melt away so easily when serious shit like this comes up. Everyone is all business, quickly closing up the shop and gathering by the back door. When I told Milo the Ink Slingers club was all about camaraderie and an excuse to work on our bikes together, that was true, but I think this is the real reason we wear the matching jackets and ride together. There's a sense of purpose in it, like maybe we can carve out just a little bit of justice in an unjust world if we stick together.

"I can drop you off back at the house if you want?" I say to Milo.

"Don't be stupid." He scoffs and tugs his helmet over his head, hopping onto the back of my bike like he belongs there.

I chuckle and pull my own helmet on, swinging my leg over my Harley. Milo doesn't slide forward and wrap himself around me like I've gotten used to. I didn't think three inches of space could feel so fucking wrong, but they do.

All five of our engines roar to life, echoing loudly, the exhaust turning to thick fog in the cold air. We pull out from behind the shop and fall into our usual formation seamlessly, with me riding on Arrow's right side, Hero on his other, Jag and Tex right behind. Milo doesn't move any closer, but he does slip his hand under the back of my jacket. His cold knuckles brush against my skin, sending a chill through me. I make a mental note to get him gloves as soon as I get the chance.

We pull up to a small house on the edge of town a few minutes later. The yard is already buzzing with activity. It looks like the guys from Four Bears Construction answered Porter's call to action along with all of the mechanics from Big Bull. The petite, blond veterinarian is standing by the front door calling out instructions while more than a dozen beefy, animal loving heroes hustle around hauling empty crates and carrying animals out of the house. We park our bikes on the street then report to Porter to find out where we can be the most helpful.

He looks relieved, giving us a big smile as we approach.

"Thank you, guys, so much. I didn't expect so many people to drop what they were doing and come help, but I really appreciate it."

"Course everyone came to help," Porter's husband, Steele, says gruffly, pausing briefly to kiss his cheek as he passes with a trembling, filthy poodle in his arms. Porter blushes and grins a little wider, then turns his attention to us.

"Brace yourselves because it's not pretty in there. Right now we're in evacuation mode. A lot of animals were in cages, but we already cleared them out of the house and got them over to the clinic to be checked out by my partner, Dr. Robbie. Now we're on the harder step of rounding up the loose critters. They're mostly friendly, but be careful and go slowly, we already had one bite wound."

"I told you, I'm fine," Stone says.

Porter narrows his eyes and looks pointedly at the t-shirt wrapped around one of Stone's hands in a makeshift bandage. "And I told you to go to the damn urgent care before you get an infection and lose your hand."

He shrugs. "That's why god gave me two." He holds up his uninjured hand and gives a peppy little jazz hand wave.

"I'll take him to urgent care as soon as we're finished here," his husband, Dare, promises, coming out of the house with two wriggling puppies in his arms. Stone's eyes get big and watery, and he clutches his chest dramatically. "No," Dare huffs.

"But their faces."

Dare sighs and carries the puppies over to one of the trucks to put them in an empty kennel. Something tells me that "no" isn't going to stick, so at least that's two furry friends fewer to lose sleep over. But there's still a house full of more that need our help.

MILO

The stench inside the house is overwhelming, but I pull my t-shirt up over my nose and try not to think about it. Porter said to make sure we check under furniture, so as we all enter and fan out, I drop to my knees to peek under a large, antique china cabinet. A single yellow eye blinks back at me from the dark crevice underneath, and I gasp with delight. Obviously, this situation is fucked up, but it's also a little exciting.

"Hi, friend," I coo, sliding my hand forward into the small gap. The friend is not impressed. It hisses and then settles into a continuous low growl.

"You found one?" Piston asks.

I nod and stretch out on my belly, flat on the floor, keeping my hands a safe distance away while I continue to stare into the void with just one yellow eye. I really hope it's a cat under there and not some terrifying cyclops demon beast.

"I don't think she's a big fan of all the commotion going on out here though." I reach back into my pocket to pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. I shine the light into the small gap and gasp. "Oh man, of course she doesn't like it, she's got two little babies she's trying to protect."

Piston makes a concerned sound in his throat. "First rule of dealing with animals, don't mess with a mama trying to protect her babies. Maybe leave her for now."

I chew on my bottom lip and turn off the flashlight so I don't upset her more. "She's scared though. I bet the kittens are too." I tilt my head back to look at the cabinet itself. It's full of breakable shit and it looks heavy as fuck. I'm sure with enough muscle it could be moved, but I shudder at the thought of Mom or the kittens getting squished in the process.

"I think I'm going to see if I can coax her out with a little patience."

Piston's quiet for a second, and then I hear him let out a resigned huff. "Alright, just be careful and don't stick your hand under there while she's growling."

I roll my eyes even though I don't think he can see it from this angle. "Yes, Dad."

He grunts and I can hear the words he wants to say all wrapped up in that single sound. I suppress a chuckle and wave him away. There are plenty of other animals he can go rescue; these babies are mine.

"Hey, Cy, I know it's crazy out here right now, but I promise no one wants to hurt your kittens or take them away," I say gently. "If you let me get you out, I can take you somewhere warm and quiet where you'll be safe and loved. I bet you like tuna, don't you? What if I promise to always share my tuna sandwiches with you? Then would you be my friend?"

I keep up a stream of coaxing promises until she stops growling. Once she does, I stretch my hand out just an inch. The growling starts back up, but I'm patient. I start talking again until she relaxes, then move my hand another inch. Over and over, one inch at a time I work on gaining her trust.

When she finally lets me get my hands on her, I want to scream with glee, but I manage to resist so I don't scare her. I tug her out carefully then reach back in for each of the babies.

"Hey, way to go," Hero says, coming around the corner just as I'm cradling my new friends in my arms.

"I'm the cat whisperer," I gloat. "I should call Animal Planet and get my own show. Wait, is Animal Planet even still a thing? Discovery Plus, maybe? Oh, or I could start a YouTube channel where I go around helping animals in need."

He chuckles and ruffles my hair fondly.

"I think those were the last of them. We've checked the rest of the house top to bottom and haven't found any more in the last half hour," he says.

"Cool." I awkwardly get myself to my feet with my arms full, careful not to hold on too tight and squish the babies or upset Cy. In the light I can see she's a little skinny and does in fact only have one eye, but otherwise she looks alright. She's a pretty orange-and-black calico, and one of the babies matches her while the other is all black. "I need to come up with names for the kittens. Oh, I could put up a suggestion box at Ink Slingers and let customers vote on it."

"I wouldn't do that," Jag deadpans as I step out of the house. "That's how you end up with a squirrel named Fuzzy McFlufftail."

"Well that would be tragic, wouldn't it?" I baby talk at the kittens. Cy puts her ears back, clearly unimpressed with how sweet I'm being. I'm a good stepdad, dammit.

"Hey, Piston, hope you've got room for a couple of litter boxes and scratching posts at your place," Hero calls.

I look up to see Piston loading the last kennel, containing a fluffy dog badly in need of a bath, into the back of Porter's van. He looks at the kittens in my arms, then back at me with a sigh. I know he's not going to tell me no, but I put on my best ‘please, please, please' smile anyway.

"We'll make room," he says, and I have to bite my tongue against a happy squeal.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." I do a little wiggle and Cy growls again.

"Why don't we get them into a crate before Mama loses her patience and sheds some blood or runs off, huh?" Porter suggests.

I clutch the cats a little tighter and he gives me a placating smile.

"Don't worry, you can return the kennel after you take them home with you."

"Oh, shoot." I frown at Piston's motorcycle. "How are we going to get them home?"

"I'll run back and get my car," he says.

"Thank you." I beam at him and carefully place my babies into the open crate Porter brings me.

"I saw you in there, patiently getting her to warm up to you," Porter says after Piston pulls away with a promise to be back in just a few minutes.

"I like animals." I shrug. "In a weird way I've always related to them a little better than people. They get overwhelmed by the same loud noises and unexpected situations I do, they're honest about their wants and needs, and they never judge you."

"That's why I've always been an animal person too," he says. "Have you ever thought about working at a vet clinic?"

I huff out a laugh. "College isn't really for me. Lectures go on and on, textbooks are impossibly boring… I don't know, I just feel like school has a way of sucking the joy out of things, even stuff I like."

"You don't have to go to school. I mean, obviously, you can't be a veterinarian without a shit-ton of schooling, but some of my best technicians were trained on the job." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. "I'm not trying to push, if you're not interested then no worries, but if you want to come shadow for a day and see what it's like, give me a call."

I take the card and stare at it for a minute, fresh excitement buzzing in my chest.

"Thanks. I will."

"And make sure you call to schedule an appointment so I can check out Mama and the kittens in the next day or two. I'll have to have you fill out official adoption paperwork too, but for now I'll just write you down as the foster."

I nod again and promise to make the appointment.

Piston is back twenty minutes later, pulling up to the curb in his car. He helps me load the crate into the back seat and then I climb in with it so I can make sure it doesn't slide around too much on the drive back.

"You don't mind, do you?" I ask as we pull away.

His eyes meet mine through the rearview mirror and I can see the smile in them.

"I don't mind."

"Cats are a big responsibility," I hedge, running my fingers over the cool metal bars of the crate door. "They need a stable home. And these babies could live twenty years or more."

Pison makes a sound in his throat and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He's quiet for a second before he clears his throat.

"That's definitely a big responsibility. Are you sure that's what you want?"

He meets my gaze through the mirror again and my heart flutters at the cautious hope I see shining in them. I swallow hard and nod.

"Yeah, I am."