Page 75 of Broken As Puck

I smiled. He liked his humans to be well-trained. The fluffy little monster kept trying to get me to overfeed him, but I suspected that was a result of sharing food with the other cats at the shelter. He probably felt like he had to fight for and guard his food carefully or it might run out. The thought made me want to scoop him into a hug and rub my face against his furry belly.

The doorbell rang as I was turning over the vegetables on the grill and I frowned. I didn’t often get guests on the weekend, but when I did, it was usually⁠—

“Fuck.”

I rushed away from the grill and arrived at the door just in time to find Chelsey opening it and my parents standing on the other side.

Mom’s eyes widened as her gaze landed on Chelsey and then quickly darted past her to me. A brown paper bag was clasped in her hand, and she was dressed for the cold, in a down jacket, with a hat and scarf.

“Chelsey,” she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows at me as if unsure how to react. “It’s so good to see you.”

For her part, Chelsey’s cheeks, which had been flushed from the shower, drained of color. “You too, Mrs. Matthews.”

Mom waved her free hand dismissively. “I think you can call me Sandra when we’ve known each other for so long.”

Unfortunately, Dad—the big softie that he was—didn’t play things quite as cool. He smiled widely and hugged her. “I’m so glad you two are back together. I always thought you were perfect for each other. This is wonderful.” He beamed at Mom. “Isn’t it wonderful, Sandy?”

Chelsey’s lips pinched together and blotches spread down her neck. Not a good sign. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and it was clear she was freaking out internally.

My heart beat against my ribcage and a hard lump formed in my gut. I had no idea what to do. On the one hand, if anything were to come of this relationship, they’d find out eventually, but on the other, it was clear that Chelsey wasn’t ready. In fact, she was so not ready that I feared she’d bolt at any moment.

Wasabi lunged for the door, and Mom bent and tried to catch him with her one available arm. He scooted around her and Dad grabbed him, only to curse as Wasabi sank his claws into his arm. He staggered inside, clutching the cat, and Mom scooted in behind him and slammed the door. Dad dropped Wasabi like a hot potato and the cat hissed and glared, his tail fluffed up like a mottled gray feather duster.

“Sorry about that,” Mom said, shooting a look at Dad as he fussed over his arm, which really should be fine, considering how many layers he was wearing. “We knew you had today off and thought we might come over for brunch. We picked up some pastries from that place you like down the street, but we should have checked with you before turning up. We didn’t expect you to have company.”

I grimaced. Of course she hadn’t. I never had in the many, many years since Chelsey and I had broken up, and I hadn’t told them we were seeing each other since it was still a secret from everyone other than Layla. They couldn’t have known any different.

A shrill beep sliced through the silence, and my heart leapt to my throat.

“Crap, the bacon!”

I raced to the kitchen, where the bacon had begun to smoke. My eyes watered and I tried not to breathe in the acrid scent of burning meat as I yanked the pan from the stovetop and dumped it on one of the cutting boards. For good measure, I removed the eggs too and switched off the grill.

I cracked open the window, wincing at the cold breeze that whistled through, and turned to face the others, who’d followed me in. Mom and Dad stood nearby while Chelsey was hanging farther back, close to the door. My insides knotted. She really was preparing to run.

“Those pastries would be great for breakfast,” I said, hoping to cover the tension. “I’m pretty sure the bacon is inedible now and the eggs might be a bit rubbery. Why don’t you get a platter out while I rescue what I can?”

Mom hastened to do that, opening a drawer and emptying the paper bag onto one of the larger plates.

Dad, meanwhile, seemed to have noticed that no one had responded to his earlier remarks. “Do your parents know you’re back together yet?” he asked Chelsey.

She took a step back, her eyes flicking toward the door. “Matt and I aren’t dating.”

I stopped with an oven mitt on one hand as her words sliced through me like a blade. The denial cut deep.

“We’re working together, so we’re trying to be friends again,” she continued, determinedly not looking at me. “There’s nothing more to it than that.”

My throat constricted, and it was all I could do to place the vegetables on the kitchen counter and inhale slowly. I wanted to claw at my neck, rub my aching chest, and throw myself at her feet so she’d stop lying to them.

It didn’t surprise me that she’d decided to cover up the truth, but it stung like hell. Her face was emotionless, and it was impossible to read what she was thinking other than the fact she wanted to escape as soon as possible.

Mom and Dad both looked at me.

“That’s right,” I said, backing her up even though I was crumbling inside. “We’re just colleagues.”

“Oh.” Dad ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

I shook my head, knowing that no apology was necessary. Perhaps he shouldn’t have blurted things out, but he wasn’t wrong, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it had occurred to both him and Mom that there were no fresh tire tracks on the fresh layer of white outside, proving that Chelsey hadn’t arrived this morning. Add that to the fact her hair was still slightly damp and it must be obvious we were hiding something.