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It’s at that moment that I decide to share something back. A piece of me that only Todd knows, and now her. I tell her about the PTSD I deal with daily, my army missions, and watching men I’d trusted with my life stop breathing. Saying it out loud still hurts, but as time goes on, it hurts less. "Talking is what got me through," I finally say, brushing her hair from her face. "Finding people who didn’t flinch at the ugly parts, that’s what made the difference." I hold her gaze. "It’s okay to fall apart. It’s not okay to give up." I look down at the pills on the floor. "Not when I just found you. Not when these cats, and I, need you here."
"I'm sorry," she says again, and I watch her face crumbling.
“Don’t,” I state, then cup her face and press my nose to hers, breathing her in. “We all hit a hard rock sometimes. But next time you do, find me. You hear me?” I pull back just enough to look at her, dipping my head lower to meet her eye-to-eye. “You always find me. I’ll always be here.” Then I seal my promise with a kiss. A current runs through me the moment our lips meet. The same feeling from last night, it’s just as easy and electric. She kisses me back, and when her tongue traces my bottom lip, I open for her without hesitation.
I press into her, my cock thickening to an impossible size, and the world stills. Every kiss draws the pain from her with each shuddering breath. I feel something uncoil, a tension that has threatened to break her lifts away from her shoulders. My hand sweeps the pills off the floor, tucking them in my pocket. I never look down. Right now, there is only her, trembling in my arms. I shift over her, covering her small frame with mine. The rhythm that builds between us is slow at first. My hands are a way of saying what I can't put into words.
In only minutes, we are out of our clothes, my body pressing against her small form. My hardened cock already sinking into her wet heat, and it feels fucking fabulous. Her breath exhaling against my neck is all I’ve asked for. As for me, it’s as if I’ve been holding my breath for days. Every slow, deep movement from my body into hers pulls her further from the edge she'd been standing on. Closer to me. Her fingers dig into my back, and I let her hold on. That's what I’m here for. We move together until there’s no sadness left in the room, just skin, languid kisses, and the quiet, unspoken truth that we are tangled up in each other now. Skeletons, soul, and all heart.
The sky is bubble-gum pink this morning, lighting up my café in a pretty pink hue across the hardwood floors. All morning, customers come and go. They leave with full bellies and smiles that make waking up early worth it. For the most part, Rydker stays close to me. Sometimes he goes to check in at his hardware store, but mostly he lingers here; Mr. Ned has claimed the spot right under the espresso machine. Those two guys are ridiculous. The best part? Every time Rydker walks by me, his hand will find the small of my back, a soft press or a slow, lingering touch that says, I see you. It keeps me breathing.
“Afternoon, Ms. Kitty!” comes the familiar voice. Greg. Before I realize it, I’m already hugging him after I quickly walk around to the front of my counter. He chuckles and pats my back. “Oh, Ms. Kitty. You doing okay, dear?” He leans back, adjusts his tweed newsboy cap, the one he wears with pride, then holds it to his chest.
“I just wanted to say hi,” I admit. “That’s all.”
“Just say hi?” He tilts his head, walks over to his table, and then drops into his usual chair. I sit across from him, watching as he struggles with his jacket buttons, his arthritic hands working slowly.
“Okay, well, no, I miss seeing you and your wife here together,” I finally confess. “I guess I just needed to know you were okay.” A few moments pass. While I sit there, an unexpected urge to confide in Greg hits me. Maybe it’s his understanding expression, or the way he always listens. Before I know it, I start sharing details about my father and the hollow ache of pretending to be fine when I’m not.
He covers my hand with his arthritic one and looks up at me with his shining eyes. “Ms. Kitty, losing my wife destroyed me. I won’t lie about that. I loved her ‘til the moon turned blue, and I’d marry her again in a heartbeat knowing I’d lose her again.” He pauses, rapping his fingers on the table. “But time teaches you how to wake up each day and feel a bit of your heart healing.” He sighs. “My wife gave me my boys. My boys gave me grandkids. They come by at least once a week and make enough noise to rattle the windows, so my wife can hear them in heaven.” There is another pause before Greg starts to say more as Rydker brings Greg’s coffee and muffin. Greg’s face brightens, and he gives him a head nod as he half-stands to shake Rydker’s hand. Rydker then rests his hand on my shoulder, and I lace my fingers through his. Greg smiles softly and sips his coffee.
“You’re going to heal, Ms. Kitty. It won’t happen all at once, and some days will knock the wind right out of you. You might never feel completely whole again, and that’s okay. That brokenness becomes part of who you are. It shapes you, but don’t let it control you.” Greg’s reassuring words pull me toward hope even as I feel tears threatening. Both hands are still wrapped around his mug as he takes another sip, then pulls part of the muffin off to pop it in his mouth. “But I promise you, the fog lifts. Little by little, it does lift.” I blink quickly and manage a grateful smile, finding a bit more air in my lungs. When I look up, Rydker is watching me. Deep brown eyes make my chest ache; he’s a good man being here with me.
I look back at Greg and feel something loosen in my ribs. “You know,” I say quietly, “I think this is the first time I’ve actually looked forward to tomorrow.”
The rest of the day moves quietly. The evening light darkens the windows. I notice how the heaviness in my chest has eased. It’s perfect timing, too, because tonight is Halloween. My excitement bubbles up, pushing aside what’s left of my earlier sadness. My mood is genuinely, embarrassingly excited because tonight is Trunk-or-Treat at our storefronts, and if there is one thing this town does right, it’s going completely overboard for the kids. And I am here for it.
“Rydker? Did you get the candy from the back?” I ask. He snaps his tape measure shut and looks up, and I immediately forget what I’m thinking. The man is unfairly good-looking. With his sharp jaw and chocolate eyes, he always short-circuits my brain—like right now. I giggle. He smirks back. Yep, way too distracting.
Sunny Buns chirps as I scoop her up, tucking her in my arms. She purrs like a tiny motor, blissfully unaware that her person is malfunctioning over a handsome, grumpy hardware store owner. Rydker walks toward me with his stride that is way too sexy, then clips his tape measure onto his pants and stops close enough, forcing me to look up. He knows what he’s doing. Jerk.
“Filled those holes,” he tells me in a teasing, knowing way. He looks me over, making me feel exposed. Then he cups my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Also ordered a new windowpane for that cracked one.” Those lips of his kiss my nose, then my mouth. When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes undo me. Looking at him, I realize this man has survived more than most, and here he is, making me feel wanted.
I’m lost in my thoughts and Rydker's lips when it hits me at the same time Sunny Buns chirps in my arms, pulling me back to reality. “CANDY! What time is it?!” I yell too loudly for being inside. Sunny Buns jumps down from my arms, walking away from me while simultaneously giving me a glare. Rydker watches me without flinching. Of course, he doesn’t move. That man wouldn’t budge if someone threw a rock in my window. With one eyebrow raised, he just looks at me with that smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting like I am the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week. “We have to get everything set up before the kids arrive! We’re—the mayor, and without the kiddie pool!?” I know I’m rambling nonsense while I run around the café, trying to hurry. Rydker watches for a moment, then turns and walks to the back room. I stare after him, halting my crazy. No denying it, I am attracted to that man’s grumpy soul, and his backside.
I press my lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Dear Lord, Sunny Buns,” I whisper. “That man makes me forget my own name. My father would’ve liked him so much.” Sunny Buns blinks at me from her perch. Then—“Oh, shoot!” I’m moving before I finish the thought, heading straight for the pile of decorations I’d shoved by the front door earlier. I glance at the clock in the room and note the time.
Thirty minutes.
I have thirty minutes.
Robe and slippers on, curlers wrapped in my hair, I’m all set with my ‘Crazy Cat Lady.’ Outside, Maple Lane Falls is still awake and alive, and every shop on the street is decorated with its own theme. Each year, along with the festival, the businesses all decorate their front doors and pass out candy to the kids in town. The mayor is judging. No pressure. This year? My door theme is ‘Crazy Cat Lady.’ Which, let's be honest, is less of a theme and more of a lifestyle. I haul a small, hard plastic kiddie pool outside and started unloading the decorations I’d shoved inside it. I am moving at a pace that can only be described as purely crazy and wild.
The first thing I do is grab my block rocker portable speaker and stream some Halloween music. While it’s playing scary sounds, I tape a giant cardboard cat to the front door and string twinkling lights around the edges. I also tuck in a few battery-powered camping lanterns because I've learned the hard way that twinkling lights alone do not illuminate a candy situation once the sun goes down. I pour clean litter into the kiddie pool and line up the new cat scoopers along the edge. When Rydker shows up with candy bags, I eagerly wave him over. Together, we dump the haul into the pretend litter box. It looks ridiculous. I love it.
“Need the folding table?” Rydker asks, already heading toward it. I smile. “Please and thank you.” He carries it out and sets it up without being asked twice, which, honestly, is one of my top five favorite things about him. I place the donation jar front and center (all proceeds going to my kitty residents, of course), then lay out the last of Loriann’s baked goods, free for the taking since they’ll just go in the trash otherwise, and that feels like a crime. I also spread out a stack of buy-one-get-one coffee cards because, well, I am a small-business owner and need to pay my mortgage. I stand back and survey my work with my hands on my hips. Cute. Absolutely cute. But I have exactly zero illusions about winning the door decorating contest because I’ve already peeked at the library’s Dr. Seuss display, and it’s genuinely spectacular. They are handing out brand-new books to every kid and sending the out-of-circulation books home with anyone willing to stock the little free libraries around town. Honestly? Good for them. I can admit when I’m outclassed. And books are always for the win.
And then there is Frosted Dreams Bakery. Homemade donuts glisten, mini cupcakes shine with sprinkles, and chocolate chip cookies wait by the dozen. The door is wrapped in pink and white cotton swirls that flutter in the breeze. Her whole storefront looks dreamy. Loriann has created a full Candy Land path stretched along the sidewalk, leading customers right to the door. Giant cardboard cutouts of every whimsical creature from the board game line the way, and oversized illuminated macarons, puffy and perfect, clearly made by someone who takes joy very seriously. That is Loriann. Meticulous down to the last detail. She wears a matching pink wool coat with fluffy white muffs, looking like she’s stepped right out of the board game. I stand there staring for a solid five minutes. It is, without question, the most delightful thing I’ve ever seen on this street.
The feeling of a warm arm around my shoulders has me looking up at the one person who’s captured my heart. “Thanks for being here with me, Rydker,” I say, a smile breaking through my playful demeanor. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, that smirk doing that thing where it makes him look both insufferable and completely irresistible at the same time. “Somebody’s gotta keep you from drowning in your own cat hair,” he replies. His eyes are eating me up. Always so dreamy. I step closer, close enough to feel the sparks coming off him.
“Seriously, though.” I stand on my toes, leaning closer to his chest. The smell is that woodsy cedar again. “I’m learning how to be sad and still be okay.” I pause. “It’s only been a day. But it’s a start,” I finish, lifting my shoulder.
Rydker looks at me for a long moment, that quiet, unreadable look that I am slowly learning to read. “Just doing my part,” he responds finally, lifting his hand to flick his nose twice. “And for what it’s worth,” watching his body step closer to mine, “I think passing candy out of a fake litter box to a bunch of kids might be exactly what the doctor ordered.”
I laugh, a real one, and reach up to adjust my curlers. “Alright then. The crazy cat lady and her grumpy sidekick, officially open for business.” Rydker makes a sound that is almost a laugh, maybe a snort, but I am counting it as a win.
