I turned on my heel to find my eyes meeting the yellow gaze of a tiny gray kitten.
“Hey,” I said softly, kneeling and extending a hand. “Come here, little guy.”
I’d never had a cat before, but I knew they were selective in who they would trust. But this kitten seemed to have a good feeling about me because he came right to me without hesitation—or maybe he was just cold. His little nose bumped against my fingers, as if he were saying, Hello, before running his scrawny back beneath my hand.
“Where’s your mom, huh?” I asked, knowing he’d never answer.
Except he did. He mewed with anguish, and I felt I understood.
“You don’t have anybody either,” I guessed, letting him use my hand to get all the affection he’d been missing in his short life. “You hungry?”
His eyes met mine, and I took that as a yes. So, I scooped him up, holding him tightly to my chest as I stood the garbage can up once again, then went inside.
I pulled out the remaining tuna fish I’d had for lunch the day before and dumped it onto a paper plate. It probably wasn’t what he should’ve been eating at his age—I doubted he was more than a month or two old—but it was better than nothing, and he seemed to agree as he scarfed it down like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“All right, buddy,” I said, using the nickname Grampa had given me, as I headed back to the living room, where my air mattress was waiting, “I’m going back to bed. Feel free to join me. Or don’t. Whatever you wanna do.”
I got under the covers, making myself comfortable again, and the little kitten hurried to curl up in the warmth of my armpit. I smiled, grateful to actually share this space with someone else, as I glanced at the clock.
It was eleven eleven, and it had been my first good day in River Canyon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FIRST VERY, VERY GOOD DAY
It was a Sunday, a month after I’d arrived in River Canyon, and I had a day off. It was the beginning of February, close to my birthday, and it shouldn’t have been as warm as it was. So, I found myself outside, assessing the beat-up steps leading up to my door.
I had helped Grampa with quite a few projects in my youth, and I’d done some woodworking at Wayward. I was confident I could do something with those steps if I had the supplies, but that was another issue entirely. For now, I was only checking them out. Seeing if there was anything I could do to keep them from collapsing before I got the chance to get to Home Depot.
“Hey!”
I turned to the familiar voice, and there was Noah. Standing on the little porch of the trailer next to mine.
“Hi, Noah,” I replied, offering a small, friendly wave.
“Can I come over?”
“Uh …” I rubbed my bearded chin, unsure of how to answer. “You know, I’m not sure your mom—”
“Okay, hold on. I’ll ask her!”
He ran inside before I could stop him, and I sighed, listening to him bellow for his mother.
There’s no way that lady is going to be okay with him coming over here. She seems too overprotective. No freakin’—
“She said it’s fine!” Noah shouted, running out of his house and down the steps.
“Oh. Uh, okay.” I watched as he ran to stand at the bottom of my stairs. “Watch out for this, okay?” I pointed to the loose and rotted boards. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
This wasn’t how I’d planned to spend my day. Sitting outside, entertaining a kid I didn’t know. Yet something about it felt good. Normal even.
I turned to face him, pulling off my gloves and stuffing them into my back pocket. It was too warm to be wearing them now with the sun set high above us.
I gestured toward the house next door. “So, you live over there, huh?” I asked him, making conversation.
“Yep.” He kicked at the dirt. “Just me and my mom. Well, sometimes, my dad is here, but most of the time, it’s just us.”
“Oh, cool. I haven’t seen you guys around.”
Noah shrugged. “Mom said I couldn’t talk to you before. She gets kinda worried about people. But”—he kicked at a rock this time—“I guess she changed her mind.”
I twisted my lips and nodded slowly. I wondered if seeing me at the grocery store had altered her opinion of the ex-con who had infiltrated their cozy little River Canyon bubble, and I took it as a good thing.
“But she did say I can’t go in your house,” he added, lifting a hand to gesture at my door. “She said she hasn’t decided if you’re a creep or not yet.”
I laughed at that. “You have a smart mom.”
“So, like, are you a creep?”
I tipped my head back to squint toward the blinding sun. “I mean, I don’t think so, but I guess that depends on who you ask.”
Noah inhaled deeply and nodded, studying my unfortunate-looking house. “Well, I don’t think you’re a creep. I can usually tell that kinda stuff.”
“Oh, well, thanks,” I said, stifling a chuckle. “I don’t think you’re a creep either.”
Next door, a window opened, and I glanced over my shoulder to see his mom peering outside. I lifted a hand in a small wave, and she lifted hers to wave back.
Then, she mouthed, Sorry, and pointed at Noah, standing there, kicking at the same rock with determination, and I shrugged and smiled.
Of all the things I minded in the world, I decided that Noah wasn’t one of them.
“So, why were you in jail?” he asked, looking up with innocent curiosity.
I took a deep breath and once again glanced toward the open window next door. “Uh, you know, I’m not sure your mom would want me talking to you about that.”
“My dad went to jail once.”
“Oh my God, Noah.” The woman rushed out of the neighboring trailer, hugging a sweater around her slender frame as she hurried down the steps. “We can’t just go around, telling people everything about our lives, okay?”
“Well, maybe he knew Dad in jail,” Noah reasoned with his mother.
“It isn’t … your dad didn’t …” She sighed, pressing a hand over her eyes. “Your dad was only held at the police station for a few days. He didn’t go away to, you know …” She looked up and met my gaze as she quietly added, “Prison.” Then, she contorted her features into the cutest grimace I’d ever seen, as if she was truly worried she’d offended me. “Sorry.”
I shook my head, tilting my lips in a crooked smile I knew was probably stupid. “It’s fine.”
She surprised me then by extending her hand. “I’m Ray.”
I offered mine, and we shook lightly, briefly. “Soldier.”
Her lips parted at the sound of my name, her emerald eyes narrowing just a little. “That’s … an interesting name.”
“My mom was an interesting lady,” I replied.
That’s putting it gently.
“Are you a real soldier?” Noah asked, studying me with the same green gaze as his mom.
I shook my head and gripped the back of my neck. “Nah, not really. Although, sometimes, I feel like one with all the crap I’ve been through.”