Page 5 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)
“No, no, sweetie,” I glance down but let’s be real, there’s no way I’m going to stop it.
The small creature clumsily makes her way over the center console and climbs into my lap, curling her tiny body into itself until she all but disappears in my shirt.
She's covering my favorite pants in blood, but I don't care about that right now.
“Don’t cry, Nic,” I mutter to myself and softly stroke the cat’s soft head. It’s the only thing I could see that wasn't covered in blood.
“Turn left in one mile, then you will reach your destination in 100 feet.”
“We’re almost there, sweetie,” I whisper, glancing down at the cat. Its eyes are closed, and it's shaking in my lap. “Oh, shit.”
A flash of red and blue lights suddenly floods my rearview mirror, and my stomach drops to my knees. “Oh, great,” I mutter, eyes flicking between the cop car behind me and my phone’s GPS. “Of course this would happen. Heroically saving a cat, only to get arrested. Very on brand.”
I glance down at the lump of fur on my lap. “If I get a ticket, you better make it, whiskers.”
Brakes screeching, I come to a halt in front of the vet clinic, a protesting meow coming from my lap as I unbuckle and turn in my seat to jump out.
“Ma’am—”
“All’s in here!” I shout at the cop without even looking, flinging my wallet onto the roof of my car. “License, registration, my entire life savings. Take your pick—but let me save the cat!”
And without waiting for a reaction, I run into the vet’s office, only glancing over my shoulder once to make sure I’m not getting Tasered. Thank God, the front door is open.
“I need help!” I storm inside frantically, and scan it, but there's no one here. “Hello? Fucking help!”
“Whoa, hey, calm dow—” My head whips around as a man rounds the corner to what I assume are the treatment rooms. “Oh. ”
“Don’t ‘oh,’” I snap and run over to him. “Are you the vet?” He nods slowly, clearly confused, and I all but thrust the cat into his arms. “Good. Fantastic. Then save this cat . Please.”
Without a word, he takes the cat out of my arms, confused frown turning into pure focus right before he turns around and walks away with quick steps.
And I stay where I am, frozen to the spot, watching him disappear into one of the rooms.
It’s only now that everything hits me. I lean my back against the reception desk, crossing my arms in front of my chest, trembling fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt as I try to calm my breaths.
God damn it. My life is giving me fucking whiplash.
“Miss, here’s your wallet.”
I bite the inside of my cheeks. Hell, I completely forgot about the cop already. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my back and turn to him.
“Thank you.” I can’t quite force a smile on my face as I accept him handing me my wallet. But his eyes widen ever so slightly, and with a deep sigh, I slowly run my hand over my face. Right.
“Huh. I was wondering if your ID was fake, but you’re—”
“Yes,” I interrupt him, gaining me a small, unimpressed eyebrow raise. “Sorry. I would prefer we keep that quiet.” I force one of the corners of my mouth upward. “And I’m sorry for speeding; I had to get that little guy here as soon as possible.”
“All right.” He takes a deep breath, and now it’s his turn to cross his muscular arms in front of his chest. Wait, his muscular what?
It’s only now that I take a better look at him. He’s young. Early thirties, I’d estimate, built like a mountain of a man. Seriously, that uniform fits him tighter than a glove. One flex and the seam on his arms might rip and reveal more of his tattoos that I can only catch small glimpses of .
And he’s tall. When my eyes wander up to his face, I notice his knife-sharp jawline hidden by the most subtle scruff. His hair is short but tousled, thick and sandy brown, as if he ran a hand through it and left it that way on purpose. Finally, I meet his green eyes.
“You’re good. Nothing happened, and that’s a valid reason. Just don’t do it again.”
“Thank you, officer—”
“It’s Erik. Everyone here calls me that.”
“Okay then, thank you, Erik.” My smile is turning more genuine as the stress of the past hour slowly rolls off me. “I appreciate it. And so does the cat, although it can’t quite voice it.”
“Are you one of the lake mansion buyers?” He lifts his eyebrow at me curiously while mine scrunch together in confusion. In all the chaos, I hadn’t even realized—
“Wait. Is this Wayward Hollow?” I point at the ground.
“The one and only.”
My shoulders sag in relief. No matter what happens, at least I’m almost at my new home.
“Good. That’s good. Then yes. I think I’m one of the lake mansion buyers.”
He nods, then extends his hand.
“Then let’s do this the proper way. I’m Erik Madden, the Sheriff of Wayward Hollow. If you have any issues, please don’t hesitate to reach out. Happy to help.”
“Nicola Duncan,” I say nervously, shaking his hand.
“Which, uh, you know already, and I’m happy to be here.
” He’s got a nice grip. I can’t say how icky I find weak handshakes—I’ve encountered more than my fair share in show business.
Mostly from egotistical men who sneered down their noses at you yet had the grip of a dead fish.
Erik’s eyes trail behind me and widen ever so slightly. I let go of his hand and whirl around to find the vet emerging from the hallway. My heart beats in my throat, and when he lifts his gaze, his expression makes my heart sink.
“I’m so sorry,” he speaks softly and subtly shakes his head. “There’s nothing I can do for her. From her injuries I’d say a car hit her at full speed. She’s bleeding internally, and I can barely find a bone that isn’t broken.”
“No.” The word comes out in a broken whisper. “Listen, I don’t care about the costs. I—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts softly but firmly at the same time. “The kind thing here is to let her go. Even if by some miracle she survived, it would be a life full of pain.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, letting my head fall back, desperate to hold it together.
It’s not working, though.
“Will you stay with her? I’m sure she’d appreciate you being with her as she … goes,” he asks, and I nod before I even fully register his question.
“Of course.” I angrily wipe away the tears streaming down my face. I already imagined out life together, cozy and cuddly evenings in front of the tv with the first friend I made in my new life. Just why? Fuck, I feel so helpless.
He leads me to one of his exam rooms where the cat is lying on a stainless steel table, ears perking up the tiniest bit when I enter.
“Did she have a microchip?”
“No,” he says softly and motions for me to walk closer. “And she’s extremely thin. I’m pretty sure she’s a stray.”
“She?” I step closer, fighting with more tears as I lean over her.
“Does that mean you don’t have a name, sweetie?
” She immediately nudges her head against my palm, her whole body trembling in pain.
I force a smile on my face as I try to keep myself together.
The thought of her dying without even a name tears my heart apart piece by piece .
“We can’t have that,” I say softly, taking a moment to think. “I think you’re Chaos, little lady,” I whisper, then nod to myself. “Yes. I like it. Chaos.”
As if she understands, she closes her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick my palm. And the tears I’ve been trying incredibly hard to keep in check overflow again.
“Are you ready?” The vet asks, and I nod silently. As much as I want her to live, as much as I need some fucking positivity in my life, she’s suffering. She doesn’t deserve that.
I can’t watch the vet give her the injection. All I can focus on are her ragged breaths and the way her whole body suddenly relaxes at once.
Then there’s silence. Deafening silence.
Her breathing stops and her head becomes a heavy weight on my hand, and I can’t help the sob escaping me.
She’s gone. And now I’m all alone again. Any hope I had in a positive outcome has shattered, like the universe embodied a cat and swiped a glass off its kitchen island.
“Hey, are you okay?”