The journey to the house was long and suffocating, pressing down on Jace like an invisible force.
Cassie had put her foot right into the anthill of Jace's reality. A truth he wasn't ready to deal with—but would have to confront whether he liked it or not. It wasn't just grief knocking at his door anymore. It was his father too.
Since his grandmother's passing, he hadn't given much thought to the legacy she had left behind. The house. His house. Because yes, she had decided to pass her cherished home to him rather than to her son. His father hadn't been in the picture for years. And the thought of seeing him again didn't sit well with Jace in the slightest.
As we passed the garden gate, Jace paused, his gaze drifting over the flowers in the front yard. It had been three weeks since he started tending to them—his "babies," as Lucy used to call them. If he left or sold the house, would they wither and die too?
Jace exhaled sharply at the thought.
Or maybe they'd just become someone else's problem. Maybe the new owner would love them. Or maybe they wouldn't. Jace sighed again, turning his head to take a slow, lingering look at the plants lining the fence, stretching all the way to the backyard.
Still perched around his neck, I reached out and placed a paw against his cheek. A little push to bring him out of his spiraling thoughts.
"I'm sorry, buddy. I forgot about you," Jace murmured, lifting me from his shoulders to cradle me in his arms.
"You too—you need to be taken care of," he sighed again.
Dear Heaven, that was not my intention. I simply wanted us to go inside, human!
Jace remained frozen there, still staring at the garden, as if the flowers themselves might beg him to stay, to take care of them—and maybe, in return, they'd take care of him. But that wasn't how things worked.
With an exasperated flick of my tail, I jumped from his arms, padded over to the locked door, and sat down in front of it, staring at him expectantly.
Jace blinked before chuckling, shaking his head. "I made you wait? My deepest apologies, Your Highness. I didn't understand the request." He smirked before giving a dramatic bow.
Finally, he stepped toward the door, unlocking it as I slipped through my own small cat-sized entrance.
Jace hesitated in the doorway, inspecting the familiar decor. The walls were painted a warm beige, adorned with paintings of tropical islands. Lucy had always loved nature—her entire home reflected that. Potted plants filled every corner, some with leaves draping over bright wooden furniture. It was colorful, inviting. It made you think of Lucy as a reasonable hippie—her words, not mine.
And, of course, alongside the little palm trees and pots of greenery, the walls were lined with wooden-framed photos of Jace and Lucy over the years. A visual timeline of their life together. His favorite photo was the one of them when I was just a tiny kitten. I had to admit, I was adorable back then. This vessel of mine may not be as young anymore, but it still served its purpose.
Jace inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of vanilla wrapping around him like a memory.
But he didn't step inside right away.
It was as if he were waiting for something.
It was a ritual—one he'd done for years. Whenever he came home, he'd announce his arrival from the street, and Lucy would yell back, telling him to shut up before running to the door to greet him, pulling him into a warm hug and slapping his back for making too much noise in the neighborhood.
Now, there was no one waiting for him at the door.
Except me.
I flicked my tail impatiently and knocked my empty bowl against the floor, the sound echoing through the quiet house.
Jace blinked, startled, before laughing. "Still making you wait, huh?" He moved toward the kitchen, opening a cabinet and pulling out a fancy-looking can.
"The nice lady at the pet shop told me this new brand—'Kitty Chef'—is so good that even if my cat doesn't like me, he'll adore me just because of this revolutionary food." He smirked as he peeled the lid off. "And you know what I told her?"
I'm afraid to ask.
Jace puffed out his chest dramatically, placing the food in my bowl. "I said, 'My kitty loves me. Do you want to know why?' Then I gave her my prettiest boy look and said, 'Cuddles. I'm the best cuddle machine ever.'" He leaned back, looking way too pleased with himself.
I flicked my ear. Congratulations, human. You have won the art of flirting. Now let me eat.
"I have a date with her tomorrow during her break. Maybe I'll bring her home if I'm in the mood."
I ignored him, lowering my head to inspect my food. It was… decent. Not good enough to justify the idea of an intruder in our home, though.
Jace, meanwhile, pulled out his phone and stared at the notifications piling up. Dozens of unread messages from his friends—messages he'd been avoiding for two weeks.
He hesitated before opening them.
Elliot: "It's been MORE THAN 2 WEEKS since you left us on read. Did aliens abduct you or something?? We miss you, man…"
Another message:
Theo: "Dear friend, do I need to come over to see how your ass is doing? - Your exclusive and sexiest friend, Theo. 🍑😉"
Jace exhaled a short laugh, his smile tinged with nostalgia.
His friends had been there for him, even during the worst of it. Even when he pushed them away. But he still didn't want to be a burden to them.
His mind drifted between his life here and his life back in Melvis—the city where, at twenty-nine, he had learned to live something resembling a normal life. A life where he shared an apartment with his two best friends, Theo and Elliot.
They were good guys. Dumb as hell, but good. And Elliot—God, that guy had decided that Jace was some kind of role model. Which, frankly, said a lot about his questionable decision-making skills.
And Theo? Theo was the reason they were still functioning adults. If they could call themselves that. He was the only one capable of keeping a job for more than two months. He was the brain of the group—not the mom, but the stabilizer.
Still, if there was one thing those two deserved credit for, it was how much they genuinely cared for Jace.
Which is why his whole I-don't-want-to-bother-them-with-my-problems act was ridiculous.
Because real friends will check on you when you're at your lowest. They will text, call, even show up at your doorstep if you try to run from them.
Jace stared at his screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Would they show up here?
Would he want them to?
He sighed, setting his phone down, rubbing his temples.
And so, the weight of the house settled onto his shoulders once more.