No Perfect Hero(46)

Do I really have to? Yeah.

I want to check on that damn cat. Mozart is a Charming Inn institution, and he might as well be my pet, even if he’s adopted Hay and the munchkin for now.

That’s all this is.

A wellness call for the cat.

That’s why I drag myself over to her door and knock. Sure.

But at least it’s Tara who answers. I don’t know what the hell I’d say to Hay without stuttering like a fool.

The kid, I can deal with. She’s a bright little spot of sunshine, and she lights up with a smile when she sees me.

“Warren!”

Next thing I know she’s got my hand, dragging me inside with a dozen come-sees and Mozart missed yous and a few other chirpy things. At least she’s happy, which means the cat’s gotta be fine.

A minute later I see for myself. He doesn’t look much more than stoned out of his mind.

Tara hauls me over to the little bed she’s made for him in the corner of the couch. Mozart lolls on his back with his head hanging half upside down, his paws twitching lazily in the air, big gold eyes half closed and tail languidly switching.

“Nice job, Tara. You've got him on the mend.”

While I eye the cat in amusement and reach out to scratch his belly, Hay emerges from the back, oddly distracted.

There’s something stormy pinched on her face, something dark and angry that warns lightning could strike at any moment, and I’m caught by how vividly her eyes crackle. I barely notice the slip of paper clutched in her hand for a second.

She stops on the threshold of the living room, pulling up short and looking at me.

“Oh,” she says faintly. “Warren?”

What the hell?

She’s in that bad a mood? Not ripping my head off for intruding? Something’s definitely wrong.

I bite my tongue and shrug. “Tara invited me in.” More like dragged me in, but I leave that part off and look down at the cat moving sluggishly under my hand, a rusty purr vibrating through him. “No more shame collar?”

Hay smiles faintly. “We found out if we keep him high on catnip, he’s too lazy to bother biting his bandages or stitches. Plus, he can eat whenever he’s hungry, instead of waiting.” At my incredulous look, she flushes, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, it works.”

“I've got no comment about you getting our cat stoned,” I retort dryly, which earns me a smile.

“Wow. That’s the first smart thing you’ve said since I met you.”

“Everybody’s got Einstein potential.”

“Maybe.” Hay’s subdued as she crosses the room to the table and tucks that slip of paper into a notebook, then turns a warm smile on Tara. “Baby, go wash up for dinner.”

“Okay! Hey, Auntie Hay...” Tara looks up from playing with Mozart’s ears and bounces to her feet. “Could maybe Warren stay?”

Damn.

Hay and I must be wearing identical oh, shit expressions on our faces, her eyes wide and stricken. I protest first, “Nah, Tara, I've got to—”

“Pleeeaaase,” Tara insists, clasping her hands together and begging. “He got his friend to fix Mozart for free. We owe him some dinner, don’t we?”

Gotta hand it to the kid.

She’s good.

And Hay and I exchange rueful looks over Tara’s head before Haley shrugs and mouths, Hungry?

Sure, I mouth back, wondering why it feels like an apology, then reach over to ruffle Tara’s hair. “So what’s for dinner?”





*



If not for Tara, this would probably be the most awkward meal ever.

Hay’s real subdued, toying with her food with no appetite.

I’m downright uncomfortable. Feels like I don’t belong here, and even if I don’t think I’m the one who upset her this time...I’ll bet my presence is just making it worse.

Whatever the hell it is.

I know one thing: if I give in to this ridiculous urge to wrap my arms around her, pull her in until she goes soft and spills what's eating her alive, she’ll probably slug me instead.

So I let myself be Tara’s willing conversation partner over steak and onions with caramelized asparagus tips. She chatters on like a magpie about her parents going to Hawaii without her.

About how she wanted to see the volcanoes, and how unfair that is.

About not wanting to go back to school but kind-of-maybe-wanting-to because her friends are there and she misses them.

I counter with stories of the time I hiked the Yellowstone Caldera, and the sleeping supervolcano that makes the geysers the area is so famous for, and the hot springs.

When I catch Hay actually looking interested, watching from the corner of her eye, I gush out a few more details about the landscape. That's what makes Yellowstone worth the memory.

The riptide sunsets, crags of ocher stone, the serrated cliffs, the way the whole sky looks like a billion scattershots of light reaching out to us across eons and time.

That's the kind of big question shit I like.

Except for the times it reminds me of Jenna. Wondering where she is now, if she's anywhere.

Hay cocks her head, then says, “You...you went hiking? I don’t even know what you do, and I know you’re not the type to quit work for a camping vacation.”