Chapter Text
Wednesday, November 4 th 2020
Thirty-five rotations around the sun was too many years to be grounded on a celestial ball of floating chaos, but it wasn’t as though one had a choice in the matter. Andrew didn’t even have the choice in how he would spend the day since two of his employees were out with the flu, leaving no one to cover the front desk of Whisker Me Away. Thankfully it was a Wednesday, which meant it would likely be slow. He still longed for the solitude of his office, tragically empty since he was perched at the counter on an uncomfortable rolling chair, so high his feet dangled off the floor unable to reach even the stability ring around the chairs post.
Andrew hated people - which was primarily his motivation for investing some of his millions into a cat rescue. He could save animals and hire enough employees to avoid his customers as much as possible. Since he’d invested in the veterinary clinic next door, bringing his twin aboard, and later his cousin to handle marketing and social media, his people-avoiding habits weren’t as successful as they once were. But it still beat working for someone else. Or standing in a goal-box on an exy court being berated by coaches and his dimwitted teammates. His old college roommate, the famous Kevin Day, had once told him he would learn to love the game. Andrew knew he was wrong but had indulged him for a couple years after graduating, having nothing better to do. But the truth was, Andrew had never learned to love anything. Protecting things that belonged to him, people that belonged to him, was the closest he’d ever gotten to a concept as abstract as ‘love’.
A small little huff escaped his lips as Andrew turned the page of the novel splayed on the counter in front of him. Some crime thriller that was far too full of itself to actually be entertaining. He was barely comprehending the words, eyes flitting up every few minutes to looked over at the glass enclosures across the foyer. There were two of the larger rooms and both held more than a dozen cats. The walls were decorated with colorful ramps, posts, and other fixtures for the animals to climb across and several custom cat towers stood in each corner. Andrew had built them himself – it was his favorite part of the job. He much preferred taking care of the animals or locking himself away to do paperwork than being the un-smiling face at the front desk. The colorful shop, compliments of his cousins input, clashed horribly with his less than cheery aesthetic. But it did make them the top cat-adoption agency in the state.
The first few hours after opening passed uneventfully. Aaron dropped off a cup of coffee when he arrived – the clinic was only open from noon to five on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Normally Andrew would spend the morning watching his twin nephews but due to the short staffing and the ‘special day’, his sister-in-law had dropped them with her parents for the night so she and Aaron could go out to dinner after work. As always, she invited him, and as always, he declined. For many years he hated Katelyn – hated any woman his brother hooked up with. He didn’t trust them with his blood and didn’t want to have to pick up the pieces again after another woman hurt him. But Katelyn had stuck around despite Andrew’s efforts to push her away, despite the rift it caused between the twins, the years they had gone locked in a cold war. Eventually, Andrew accepted that she was actually good for Aaron, though he’d never admit it out loud. And now he was even fond of the mischievous toddlers that had invaded his quiet life – carbon copies of he and Aaron with blond hair and matching scowls whenever the word ‘no’ was thrown around. He’d long since let go of his hatred of their mother. He didn’t like her, then again, he didn’t like anyone. But his aversion to socializing with them was simply because had no interest in being a third wheel in his brother's nuclear family. As such, he usually excused himself from holiday and birthday gatherings when his presence as the ‘dutiful uncle’ wasn’t required.
At one o’clock a package arrived. It wasn’t wrapped and arrived by means of a delivery man from the bakery a few miles away rather than by the postal service. Andrew signed for it and shoved aside the identical box with his brother's name. Inside was a small cake with blue and green marbled icing covered by a clear, plastic tub and a card tucked next to it. Andrew pulled the card out and opened it. Okay, so maybe he liked one or two people – Renee being on that very short list. She was one of the few people he intentionally kept in contact with after graduating from Palmetto State. Even though Renee hadn’t visited in over a year, having moved to Virginia to open her own law firm, they still kept in regular contact.
The message was short, amounting to little more than a ‘happy birthday’ wish and Andrew tucked the card back in the box. He carried the cakes to his office and deposited them on the desk, looking forward to going home that night and eating the entire thing in one sitting since there would be no one there to bitch at him for it. Well, the cats would probably beg but their complaints were easily tuned out.
As Andrew settled back in at the counter, propping up his elbows, the bell over the door tinkled quietly. He glanced up to see a customer headed his way and went back to his book with a sigh. Maybe if he ignored him he would go away until Nicky returned.
“You’re Andrew Minyard,” said a surprised sounding voice.
“I am aware,” Andrew muttered, not looking up.
“You played two seasons for the New York Titans.”
He resisted rolling his eyes. This happened sometimes – a customer recognizing him from his pro-exy days and wanting to wax poetic about his stats. “I don’t do autographs.”
“I don’t want.....you don’t recognize me, do you?”
Andrew looked up, face still a blank mask of indifference despite the jolt of recognition in his gut. Of course, he recognized the man. Andrew never forgot a face.
“Should I?” he said, instigating even though it would probably be easier to admit the truth.
Neil narrowed his eyes a fraction, as if trying to ascertain whether the blond was being intentionally aloof. “Never mind. I need a cat.”
With a careful flick of his wrist, Andrew turned the book face-down on the counter and threaded his fingers together, propping his chin on top. “You need a cat.”
Impatience rolled off Neil in waves, like ripples reaching the shore only to be broken by stubborn sand. “That’s what I just said. Are you going to help me or not?”
Before Andrew could answer, Nicky breezed in, looking windswept and carrying two identical blue gift bags. “Happy day of birth to my favorite cousins!”
The taller man squeezed behind the counter and set the bags down against the glass wall behind it that partitioned off the two small offices. He turned immediately, clearly intent on antagonizing Andrew more but the customer at the counter caught his attention. Nicky snatched the sunglasses from his face and clipped them on the collar of his button up.
“Oh my god.....is that...aren’t you Nathaniel? Wesninski right...you played for the Ravens when we were in college!” said Nicky, voice filled with excitement, as though proud he’d remembered such a thing.
“It’s Neil, now,” he said through grinding teeth, trying to keep his temper in check.
No one had called him that name since Neil was a child. After the debacle of his fathers death and his true identity being revealed at the end of his freshman year playing the with Ravens, the media loved to use it. But it had been years since even they uttered his birth name.
“Right of course....I’m Nicky...”
“Hemmick. Number 8. PSU.”
Nicky practically swooned. “Oh my GOD I can’t believe you remember that! It was like...eons ago.”
“ Neil .....needs a cat,” Andrew interrupted, eyes still locked on the newcomer.
“Of course!” said Nicky, unphased by his apparent misstep. “I’ll show you around.”
Good. Now Nicky would leave him alone and the interloper who had interrupted him from an uninteresting chapter in his book, would also go away. Two birds and all that.
Neil reluctantly trailed Nicky across the foyer to the large glass enclosures where they housed the rescues. Andrew followed them with his eyes, watching the stiff set of Neil’s shoulders and the way his hands stayed firmly planted in the pockets of his jeans. He clearly didn’t want to be here and that made Andrew suspicious. The tinkling of another bell drew his attention after Neil and Nicky entered the first enclosure. Tan slinked across the counter and headbutted Andrew in the chin once before flopping over, head-first , on top of his novel. Finally looking away, he glanced down at the feline in front of him, glaring up at him with one green eye and one blue. Andrew ran a hand along pristine white fur and wiggled the book out from under the fluff. He was determined not to let his attention be drawn back to the suspicious red head who had once been the face behind closed lids when Andrew jacked off in the shower of his dorm room.
The fact that those memories reared their ugly heads at all infuriated Andrew. Neil had played for the Ravens in college. He had been part of the run-down Kevin had given them when he transferred to PSU. But other than describing a snarky, yet mostly quiet backliner that was partnered with Jean, he had nothing to say on the subject of Neil Josten. Once the Ravens transferred south, Andrew had faced him a few times on court but backliners and goalkeepers didn’t really have much interaction. So, Neil had been nothing more than a footnote – an attractive piece of ass (and thighs) running across the field in exy armor, and a stoic Raven clone in a black suit, seated at the end of a banquet table.
He’d become slightly more interesting that spring, when Andrew had returned to school sober. Towards the end of his sophomore year Andrew remembered the news stories – The butcher of Baltimore had been killed in a hit and his long-lost son, Nathaniel, had been hiding in plain sight at Evermore. He'd berated Kevin for not being upfront about Neil's past, though Kevin's response that it had been irrelevant was true, until that point at least. Things spiraled after that. The Foxes beat the Ravens in the finals that year and Riko had ‘killed himself’ after the loss- though Kevin always insisted that it hadn’t been suicide. The next year the Ravens moved back to the North Eastern district and Moreau and Josten were together again, but both graced the court without their tattooed cheeks, having had them removed. The Foxes only played the Ravens twice after that – neither having made the semis or finals in the same year or bracket. After graduation Andrew went pro for two years. His team only played Neil’s twice before he quit but they’d never played during the same half. The last thing he remembered seeing about Neil was that the year he made Court for the first time, he’d switched to being a striker. It was an unprecedented change in Exy history and made ripples throughout the sports world. Andrew could have cared less. Since then the only time the name ‘Neil Josten’ was brought up was when Kevin would complain about him. His last complaints consisted of bitching about Neil’s inability to play well with others, which didn’t make much sense since Kevin had been instrumental in getting Neil traded to the team he now coached. But then, Kevin never really did make a lot of sense.
When he looked up again he could see Nicky crouching down, talking animatedly to Neil who was still standing, hands in his pockets. When an orange tabby wandered over to rub against his leg Neil reflexively nudged it away with his shoe. Andrew narrowed his eyes again.
Twenty minutes later, Nicky returned with Neil, having walked him through both rooms. Andrew paused with a hand in Tan’s fluff to look up, setting the novel to the side for a second time. He quirked a brow at the pair of them.
Nicky shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders, “No luck I’m afraid. Nothing really stood out.”
“What about that one?” asked Neil, pointing to Tan.
“Oh no...Tan?” said Nicky, frowning. “You don’t want him. He’s a demon.”
Unconvinced, Neil pulled a hand from his pocket. His movement was slow, there was plenty of time for Andrew to stop him but instead he just removed his own hand, providing a smooth plane of inviting fluff. Nicky seemed to realize what was going on at the last minute and tried to avert the impending disaster.
“Neil no...”
Tan growled low and swiped so quickly he was on the floor, slinking away before Neil even had time to hiss and recoil, snatching away his hand which now had a long scratch that was beading red.
Andrew sighed. “Nicky...go get Aaron.”
“Yea...I’ll be right back...” he said, giving Neil an apologetic look before going through the side door that connected to the veterinary clinic.
“You knew that would happen,” Neil said, tone accusatory as he covered his hand with the other, trying to keep the blood from dripping on the counter.
“I wonder...what kind of man intentionally tries to pet an animal after someone calls it a demon?”
Neil bristled, going on the defensive. “I thought it was a joke”
“I guess the joke was on you,” said Andrew dryly.
"He let you touch him. If you're the only one why don't you take him?"
"He does not tolerate anyone other than me, including other cats."
They stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds until Andrew reached, still holding his gaze, and slid a box of tissues from the other end of the counter. Neil blinked angrily and let go of his hand long enough to snag several from the box and balled them up, sopping up the blood and holding them to the wound.
“You sent Nicky to get Aaron. Your brother? Is this like...a family business?” asked Neil.
“It’s my business. Some of the employees just happen to share my blood,” he said evasively.
“Right. So, you know quitting exy after two seasons was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Neil said, without any segue into the new topic.
Eye twitching, Andrew looked away, picking his book up and holding it so it obscured the bottom portion of his face. “As the leading authority on myself, I can assure you that it was, in fact, not the dumbest thing I have ever done.”
“You could have been court!” Neil said, undeterred. “I know they scouted you for Rio...”
“Sorry...Andrew’s not home right now, please leave a message after the...” He held up his middle finger.
Neil huffed. “Kevin always said you were an asshole but considering the bar for Kevin is pretty low I didn’t bother believing him.”
“Is the bar low because Kevin is an asshole himself or because he has known you for the better part of twenty years?”
Neil opened his mouth to argue but the side door opened and Aaron Minyard stepped through. He was wearing a white coat and mild scowl, holding a small red box in his hand.
“Nicky?” questioned Andrew.
“Left him to help Kate,” he said. “Hand?”
Neil held out his hand and after snapping a pair of white gloves in place, Aaron snatched it mid-air. He peeled away the sopping tissue and prodded at the scratch, which was still bleeding.
“He tried to pet Satan?” asked Aaron.
“The cat’s name is Satan?” Neil asked derisively .
“Yes,” said Andrew.
“Well maybe you could have fucking led with that?” sniped Neil.
Andrew shrugged. Aaron prodded at the scratch with gauze until the bleeding slowed and then wiped over it with an alcohol pad. Neil resisted the urge to hiss at the sting and just managed to keep from flinching. Aaron tugged his hand closer and leaned down, squinting through the thin frames of his glasses.
“At least it won’t need stitches like the last guy.”
Neil’s head snapped back to glare at Andrew again who had resumed reading and pretending he wasn’t paying attention.
“How has no one sued you?” asked Neil.
“They have,” snorted Aaron.
“Twice,” added Andrew.
“We have a good lawyer,” offered Aaron, pulling out a tube of something from the box.
The bespectacled Minyard smeared some sort of ointment over the scratch and then bandaged his hand lightly. Normally Neil would have just run it under some cold water until it stopped bleeding and called it a day – but he was already dreading facing Kevin at tomorrows practice with a hand injury. Hopefully it would be patched up enough not to impede his ability to swing a racquet.
Aaron tossed a small, unopened packet of the same ointment onto the counter.
“Keep it dry and use the ointment a couple times a day so it doesn’t get infected. And don’t pet the demon cat.”
“Fine,” sighed Neil.
Aaron disappeared back to the clinic without another word or any acknowledgement that he knew who Neil was and Neil was left cradling his hand, staring at Andrew. He pocketed the ointment and tapped the fingers of his undamaged hand on the counter. Andrew dropped his book a fraction to peer over it.
“I still need a cat,” said Neil.
“I thought none of them suited you?” asked Andrew.
Neil shrugged and glanced behind him at the glass where he could see cats of all shapes and sizes milling around the playroom.
“I’ve never really been around them before. I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Andrew slammed the book closed and leveled Neil with a stare. “Then why are you here?”
“It’s not like I want to be.”
“Then leave.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Monday, November 9th
Four days had passed since Neil Josten had graced Whisker Me Away with his presence and Andrew had no reason to think he would see the man again. That thought was effectively stifled upon hearing the haughty tone of Kevin Day fill the lobby, sounding out of breath.
“Neil! I thought we were meeting here...you were supposed to wait...”
“We did meet here Kevin. And I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
“Apparently you do, considering you had one job last week, and that was to get a pet. Instead you got mauled.”
“Good pep talk, you can leave now.”
“Whatever. I need to talk to Andrew.”
Andrew was leaning back in his chair, ear craned towards the crack in his door. He couldn’t see them through the heavily frosted glass but he could hear them clearly enough. A moment later he heard the quieter, more volume-controlled voice of his employee working the front desk.
“Oh...um...Mr. Minyard asked not to be disturbed unless it’s something important. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked politely.
“I know he’s here. Just send him....Andrew! I know you are there.”
Andrew dropped his head back on his shoulders so dramatically he nearly tipped his chair over. After waiting a full two minutes, he stood, brushed off the variety of cat hair from his dark clothing, and wandered out to the front desk where the receptionist was still arguing with his old teammate.
“It’s fine, Cassie,” he said to the girl, flicking his wrist to send her away. “It’s almost four. You can go. I will clock you out.”
The girl nodded with a final polite smile towards the grouchy customers and snatched her purse from under the counter before leaving.
“Mind telling me why you are terrorizing college kids?” asked Andrew, leaning on the counter slightly.
Neil, who hadn’t said a word since Andrew appeared, stood like a twin pillar of annoyance – though Andrew couldn’t figure out what he was more annoyed at – Kevin, or having to be here at all.
“Maybe if you would answer your phone I would not have to show up in person.”
“Maybe I didn’t answer because I don’t want to talk to you,” Andrew said cooly.
“I don’t care. I am here as a customer and also,” said Kevin, propping a forearm on the counter so he towered over Andrew, “don’t forget who the primary donor is for this organization.”
“The Houston Sirens,” answered Andrew, lip twitching in challenge. “Last I heard you were coaching for the Chimeras.”
Kevin blinked down at him several times, jaw clenching, holding in a retort that obviously wasn’t good enough to counter Andrew’s facts.
“Fine. Help me out and maybe I’ll talk to the Chimeras and see if they’re interested in becoming a donor as well.”
That peaked Andrew’s interest. The organization wasn’t doing badly. After two years of professional exy, and easily being the best goalkeeper in the league, he’d made quite a bit of money. It was the only reason he had agreed to go pro in the first place. When he left it was with 4.3 million dollars. He invested half and spent the rest starting the rescue and later the clinic. Aaron had decided to go to veterinary school instead of finishing regular medical school since he undoubtedly learned, what Andrew had always known, that people were trash. But....more donors meant more money and more money meant he could offer a salary that would comfortably hire a weekend person who was competent instead of the lazy college kids he normally employed.
“Let me guess. You need a cat too. Thea finally throw you out? You need a friend that is able to tolerate you for more than five minutes? I cannot guarantee I have what you’re looking for.”
“Not for me, asshole. For Neil.”
Neil bristled at his name and glared at them from his periphery, half turned towards the cat enclosures.
“Why does he need a cat?”
“Hi...yea, I’m right fucking here...” said Neil, turning to face Andrew.
Kevin ignored his player. “It is either anger management or an ESA. Just give him something with fur he can hang out with and we’ll call it a day. It is not rocket science.”
“First of all....fuck you,” said Neil, slapping Kevin on the back of his head hard enough that Andrew smirked. “I didn’t give you permission to share my personal information. Second, fuck you again, and also leave. I’ll find something but not with you breathing down my neck.”
“You think I trust you to do this on your own?” asked Kevin, glaring down and pointing in Neil’s face.
“You think I asked you?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “Kevin. A cat is not a house plant. You cannot just sit it in the window and hope for the best.”
“I know that....”
“Then why don’t you go and I will make sure he gets what he came for before I let the two of you go at it in the middle of my lobby and make you mop up your own blood afterwards.”
The triumphant expression on Neil’s face did nothing to bolster Kevin’s confidence. But finally, he sighed heavily and dragged a scarred hand down his face.
“Fine. Whatever. I am exhausted anyways. Just...don’t fuck this up,” he said, and then turned to Neil. “And you....you have another meeting with Dr. Highland on Friday and if you don’t have anything she is going to make you sign up for therapy to keep your contract.”
Coming around the front of the counter, Andrew flicked a wrist towards the door. Kevin sent one last look to the both of them and then turned on his heel. Once he was outside Andrew wheeled on Neil.
“Thanks for that. I already get enough of him at practi...” started Neil.
“Oh....no,” Andrew said. “I don’t actually care. I just want this to go as quickly as possible and Kevin hinders that process. I still don’t like you.”
“It’s mutual,” said Neil with a sneer.
Andrew led Neil towards the enclosures, but instead of going inside he veered left at the last moment, to a door at the end of the building. It led into a short hallway with two doors on each side, around eight feet apart. The door to get into the hallway, along with the cat enclosures were all locked with a keypad, but Andrew used a key from his pocket to open the second door on the left.
Inside the room there was bench built in to one side of the wall. On the other side was a tall, narrow cat tower, two litter boxes on the floor, several partially empty dishes and a wide array of colorful cat toys strewn about. As they entered, two tiny felines emerged from under the bench, mewling and crying for attention.
“Why are they in here instead of one of the other areas?” asked Neil, crouching down to let them stiff his hand.
“They were dumped here this weekend. We always quarantine them for a week or two until their blood tests come back and we can get them acclimated,” he explained, sitting on the end of the bench closest to the door.
Usually they kept the new arrivals in the kennels at the clinic, but the kittens had been put in one of the private viewing rooms so they could be kept together.
“Dumped?” asked Neil, finally reaching out with slightly shaky hands to pet, and then pick up one of the kittens.
“People know we will take them no questions asked. So, when they find abandoned animals or are too irresponsible to get their own fixed, we end up with the throw-a-ways.”
“That’s awful,” said Neil, cradling the mottled brown kitten to his chest.
“Yes, people are awful,” agreed Andrew.
Neil hummed his own agreement and put down the kitten, reaching to swipe a hand along the back of another, nearly identical, brown kitten. Still crouching, he put a hand on the edge of the bench for balance and looked around.
“I thought the placard on the door said there were three in here?”
Cracking an eye open where he’d tipped his head against the wall, Andrew slid his gaze to the cat tree. He didn’t move but pointed a finger from under his crossed arms to the carpeted tower.
“Check in the bottom.”
Neil dropped to his knees and leaned down to peer inside the dark cut out at the bottom of the cat tower. Andrew very pointedly, did not look at Neil’s ass, which you could still bounce a quarter off even a decade after college. Nor did he look at the way Neil’s jeans sealed around his muscular thighs as he leaned forward to reach for the dark ball of fur inside.
When he withdrew, it was with a small, mewling bundle of black. This kitten was a little smaller than the others and a white bandage was wrapped around the stump of its tail. Neil stood and maneuvered around the other cats to slide onto the bench against the wall.
“What happened to his tail?” he asked, careful not to jostle the creature too harshly.
“We’re not sure but it looked like someone pulled on it too hard. Aaron said the safest bet was to amputate.”
Neil frowned, scarred fingers stroking the short black hairs of the damaged feline. It stopped crying and settled in his lap, vibrating under his touch like a little motor-boat. He didn’t want a cat. The idea that an animal could somehow dampen his fury over his treatment by his team, his coaches, and the news media seemed utterly ridiculous.
Just after graduating from Edgar Allen, Neil learned to hold his tongue when he needed to. It wasn’t hard at first, something he was used to from his childhood and early adolescence with his mother on the run and then under the tyranny of the Master and Riko. When the truth about his parentage had come out he’d been a target for his teammates and over-zealous reporters. But after Riko’s death, and later Tetsujis , he stopped letting his team walk all over him. He might have been sold to the Moriyamas but he wasn’t going to be a punching bag for the rest of the Ravens.
Going pro was a different story. No one wanted to sign a PR nightmare, so Neil was careful to toe the line his senior year and then his first few years going pro. He made it to court, made a name for himself. After he turned thirty trouble started to bubble up again. The word ‘ retirement ’ started to get thrown around and it infuriated him. And only got worse once Kevin had retired the year before.
Kevin’s stats had been slowly declining the last four years after a knee injury. He was still one of the best strikers in the game but years of hard wear -and-tear on his body were taking a toll. Neil’s stats surpassed his the year before he officially retired. At the last Olympic games, a year prior, they still played like a well-oiled machine. Sure, some of the other strikers on the team were faster, nimbler now. But Kevin and Neil together were still unstoppable. Which Neil guessed was part of the reason he was taking Kevin’s retirement, and his subsequent trade to Kevin’s team, with even less grace. It was like people didn’t believe Neil could survive the game without Kevin. Like he had no merit to his own skills. Kevin had a wife and a daughter, a coaching position and the respect of the exy community. He had a life that didn't have to be lived on the court. Neil only had exy. And he wasn’t ready to give it up yet. And if that meant getting a damn animal to help help with his 'anger issues' then he would do it.
“Does it have a name?” Neil asked.
Andrew shook his head. “No. Nicky will make up something ridiculous for the website but most owners change their names after they’re adopted.”
Neil pulled a face. “Doesn’t that confuse them?”
“They’re cats. They do not really care what you call them.”
The kitten climbed off his lap and wandered towards Andrew. He held out a finger and then when the cat butted his hand with it’s wet nose he ran a hand along it’s back.
“So if you’re trying to get one to come to you it doesn’t know it’s name?”
Andrew shifted a little to face him. “You really know nothing about cats, do you?”
Neil shrugged, suddenly even more uncomfortable. Andrew rolled his eyes and stood, beckoning Neil to follow. Once they were back at the desk the blond plucked a booklet from one of the plastic stands on the counter. He thrust it into Neil’s hands.
“Go home. Read this. Come back when you know what you want.”
“But Kevin...”
“Then don’t tell Kevin,” said Andrew, more annoyed every second. “The kittens will still be here tomorrow. If you read this and think you can handle one then we can talk.”
Neil sighed but opened the pamphlet , flipping through. He nodded and rolled it up in his hand.
“Alright. I’ll be back then.”
Wednesday, November 11 th
“I’ll take them,” said Neil, pushing the adoption application towards Andrew.
Andrew was stuck at the front desk once again since Nicky had taken Cassie to lunch.
“ ..... Them?” he asked.
“The kittens.”
“The kittens.”
Neil huffed. “Is there an echo in here? Yes, the kittens.”
“All three of them,” said Andrew.
Neil gave a resolute nod and then shrugged a little. “I don’t want separate them. They’re siblings, right?”
Andrew gave a little flinch that Neil seemed to notice but they both plowed on as though they hadn’t. Andrew knew Neil’s background just as Andrew was sure Neil knew his – Aaron’s trial having been a very public affair.
They completed the paperwork and Andrew briefed him on the fees and the process. A home visit would be required before he could take them – Nicky would visit him to make sure his place was suitable. When Andrew told him he couldn’t take them until the following Monday after they’d been cleared by the vet check Neil sighed.
“Can’t I take them Friday? The team shrink said it has to be Friday or I have to do the stupid therapy sessions...” said Neil.
“Just give her the number. If she calls we can confirm you have adopted them and just can’t take them home yet.”
Neil drummed his fingers on the counter but agreed. And five days later, he was the owner of three, very cute, very problematic cats.