Page 7

Her heart squeezed. Sighing, she hopped up on the counter and sat next to him. “You okay?”

There was a long pause. Bruce stared off toward the far wall, not meeting her eyes. “The Bruce doesn’t cry in public. Ever. Especially not in front of Fat Bastard. He’dneverlet me live it down.”

Billie Ann grinned at that.

“But dammit, Billie.” His voice cracked, low and rough. “Davey’s gone. Just like that. No warning. No time for a goodbye. I… I didn’t even get to tell him he still owed me two cans of tuna.”

Her throat tightened. “Yeah. It doesn’t feel real, does it?”

Bruce shook his head, eyes still locked on nothing. “He made the best fried catfish, never skimped on snacks, and always let me sleep on the good chair, even when he pretended to be annoyed about it. He let us hold our poker games here when Wanda threw us out of the Assjacket Diner.”

“Why did you get thrown out of Wanda’s place?” Billie Ann glanced over at him. A talking cat who played poker would freak most humans out, but being raised here in Assjacket, she had met all kinds of paranormals. To her, this conversation was totally normal.

Bruce sighed, shaking his head. “Fat Bastard and I got into a fight. Claws came out, and fur was flying because he said I was cheating.”

“Were you?” Billie Ann cocked her eyebrow. She knew Bruce well.

Bruce finally looked at her. “You wound me.” He said, then shrugged as much as a cat could shrug. “And for your information, I wasn’t cheating... that time.”

“So, Wanda tossed you guys out,” Billie said, swinging her legs back and forth on the counter.

“Yeah, said it was unsanitary.” He snorted in disgust. “I’m the cleanest cat you’ll ever meet. I lick my balls daily.”

“Too much info, Bruce.” Billie Ann said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t want to know all the tea, don’t ask.” Bruce shot back. “Reach behind that container and grab that bottle.”

Frowning, Billie Ann reached behind it and felt the bottle. “Was Davey drinking a lot?” She heard the worry in her own voice as she asked that question. Davey took a few shots and drank a beer or two, but she never knew him to have a problem.

“Nah, he kept that back here for our poker games,” Bruce said as she sat up. “Open it up and give me a swig or two.”

Billie Ann realized her life had been extraordinary compared to other humans as she enabled a cat with booze.

“He loved you. You know that, don’t you?” Bruce said, wiping his mouth with the back of his paw.

She did know that. Billie blinked rapidly, pressing her lips together as she looked around the kitchen, imagining Davey’s heavy footsteps, the jingle of his keys, his low, grumbly humming as he prepped for the day. The silence now felt deafening.

“I keep expecting to hear him banging around back here, yelling about how I stacked the glasses wrong,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

For a while, they sat there in silence, in the dark. One grieving woman and one proud, heartbroken cat. She was finding quiet comfort in the company of someone who loved Davey just as much as she did.

“Yeah, I’m going to miss him,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Even when the old bastard tried to give me cat treats.”

“The Bruce doesn’t do cat treats?” Billie Ann teased with a half grin.

“The Bruce doesn’t do cat treats.” He agreed with a nod. Then he used his paw to push the bottle in her hand toward her. “Go ahead. I don’t have germs. You probably need that more than me.”

“You just told me you licked your balls daily.” Billie Ann eyed him. “I think I’ll pass.”

They stared at each other for a second, and then burst out laughing. It was the kind of laughter that comes when you’re holding too much inside and need something, anything, to crack it open. For just a moment, the weight of grief lifted enough to let in a little light.

It was right then that the kitchen lights clicked on, flooding the space and making them both wince.

“Dammit,” Bruce muttered, throwing a paw dramatically over his face. “Turn the lights off, man. We were having a moment.”

Billie Ann blinked against the harsh brightness, squinting as her eyes adjusted. She caught Mac eyeing the whiskey bottle still clutched in her hand. With a sly glance toward Bruce, she held it out toward him.

“You want a swig?” she offered with a mischievous grin.