Max was going insane. There was no other explanation for it. Every line in his body was tense, ready to spring into action—to bolt.
He’d taken the same route to the park, sat on the same park bench for the last two weeks, waiting for his friend to arrive.
A minute passed. Then five.
Max stared at the brown bag containing his roast beef sandwich. His stomach grumbled but he was too nervous to take a bite. He slumped in his seat, looking up at the clear blue sky.
“Pat, what am I doing here? Why do I keep doing this?”
Something nudged at his left leg. Max nearly lashed out in self-defense, but he knew better. His lion sensed no threat nearby. Interest sparked in the animal. After Pat passed away, the animal in him turned quiet. Like Max, his lion became disinterested in reality...until now.
He looked down to see the same orange striped tabby, his friend.
“Hello there. I thought you skipped out on our date,” he said.
The cat pawed at his laces. Max set the sandwich down. The animal didn’t go for the free meal immediately like all the other times, merely studied him with its emerald green eyes.
“Christ,” he muttered.
The sound seemed to startle the tabby, who raised his tail to form a question mark. How Max knew the cat was a ‘he’, he hadn’t been entirely sure. Picking up the cat, Max checked. It didn’t hiss or tried to claw its face out. Yup, dick was there.
“What am I doing?” he repeated. “People might think I’m insane, talking to a cat.”
He sat the cat down on his lap, sandwich forgotten. The fiend curled itself up, purring when Max scratched at its ears. Max swore his lion made the same sound inside him, except it wasn’t a purr, but a rumbling roar.
What the fuck?
His skin itched. The beast wanted out. It would be tempting to change form and curl up beside this kitty. Take a nap maybe. When they woke up, they could go for a run.
Max doubted the local authorities would appreciate a lion shifter scaring off folks at the local park. Word would come back to his boss. Max would cause problems.
He could already hear his work colleagues talking in his head.
It’s always the quiet ones who explode.
There was only one simple explanation for his obsession with this cat. Max was barely holding on to the remains of his sanity at this point.
One moment, he had forever with Pat. The next, nothing.
This was the result of missing Pat and trying to fulfill his promise. His lion had actually mistaken this little stray cat was its new mate.
He let out a desperate laugh. The animal on his lap looked up at him. There was almost concern there. ]
Right. As if.
It was too much too hope this little guy was a shifter. Tabby shifters were notoriously picky and vain. Not to mention, self-absorbed.
What would a tabby shifter want with a broken lion?
He stroked the cat’s back to calm the cute little critter down.
“Today’s our anniversary,” he told the animal who seemed to freeze at his words. “Would have been anyway, if Pat was alive. Last night, it happened again. I woke up, expecting him to be in my arms, but he’s gone.”
This never happened before. Sure, he spoke to the kitty, but never bared his soul. As if this cat would ever spill his secrets.
“I’m going to visit him now.” He sat the cat on the bench and patted its head. “I’ll see you next weekend.”
The feline would probably turn to the sandwich now. Max walked, surprised to find the tabby tailing him, walking alongside him.
He frowned. “I don’t have any other food. I’ll bring more next time.”
Still, the cat followed him all the way to the park’s exit. At the sidewalk, Max hailed for a cab. Ten minutes later, a yellow cab stopped. The cat hadn’t left. It mewled piteously and scratched at his leather shoes when Max opened the door.
Max plucked the cat and settled the creature in his arms, unsure why he did that and got in.
“Hey, mister. No cats inside,” complained the cabbie.
“I won’t make a mess.” Max promise
“Look, bud—” the driver halted, probably catching sight of him.
Max was a big guy—no hiding that fact. The human gulped. He was used to people, even shifters being afraid of him. The old scars on his face probably didn’t help.
“Where to, sir?” the cabbie asked, face pale.
“St. Mary of the Angels church, please.”
The car started to move. The tabby settled back on his lap, purring. Max wondered why stroking the cat’s fur made him feel at ease. There was no collar on the little fella.
The cat was definitely a stray, although its coat was suspiciously clean. Should Max take him home? He never had a pet before. Usually, normal animals didn’t take well to shifters.
“We’re here,” the driver announced, looking eager to get paid and drive off.
That was fast. Time flew by quickly whenever he was with this cat. Last Saturday, he wasted the entire afternoon reading the book while the cat napped beside him.
“What do I owe you?” Max asked.
“Fifteen-fifty.”
Max took out his wallet and handed the guy a twenty. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, pal. Have a good day.”
Cat in his arms, he got out of the cab and stared up at the church. Max wasn’t religious, but Pat was.
Right on the dot, Pat would attend mass here every Sunday mornings. Pat always tried to drag him inside. Max always told his mate he’d wait for him until the service was over.
Skipping the church’s main entrance, Max walked all the way to the back, to the side stairs leading to the crypt. The cat shivered, but that was understandable. He read somewhere that cats had an affinity with the dead.
Could this tabby see ghosts, Pat’s ghost perhaps?
He lumbered down the stairs.
“Max,” the old caretaker said, nodding to him as he walked through the crypts. Max never found out the old guy’s name, but they nodded to each other.
The lighting down here was still terrible. It was gloomy despite all the white marble.
Pat insisted on being buried here. Another selfish wish. Then again, maybe it was for his own good. Max initially wanted to keep Pat’s urn in the bedroom. Pretty morbid. That would have probably driven him to suicide faster.
Max didn’t bring any flowers. Pat hated those kinds of things. He released the cat when he reached Pat’s crypt. Brushing his fingers over Pat’s name, he leaned his forehead against the cold stone.
“Hey, baby. I still miss you so fucking much.”
Max said nothing for a couple of moments.
Taking deep breaths, he gathered himself and found the courage to continue, “I’m trying, trying to keep my promise to you, but it’s hard. I’ve met a friend, if that helps.”
He glanced at the tabby. The cat sat beside his feet, tail swishing back and forth.
He turned back to Pat. “I’ve dated other guys this past year, but none of them were you. Josh says I haven’t found the one.”
Pat was the one, but logic stated Pat couldn’t be if Pat left him all alone to deal with this shit.
“Anyway.” Max gritted his teeth, raising his head. He didn’t have the heart to linger here any longer. It took too much of him. “I’ll see you again next year.”
He glanced down at the cat. “Come on, friend. Let’s get you something to eat.”
Max sore the cat stared at Pat’s crypt before turning to him to follow.
* * *
Something about today felt different. Dylan knew it in his gut the moment he spotted Mr. Mysterious sitting at the same park bench.
Something looked different about him, sadder than usual. It took him a second to realize that emotion was grief.
Dylan didn’t know why he followed the stranger to the cemetery.
Max, the old man called him.
Finally, Dylan had a name.
Max didn’t linger inside the crypt long. Thank God. Dylan’s fur rose when they entered. His heart broke hearing Max talking to his dead mate.
It was on the inscription.
Patrick O’Malley. Best friend. Beloved Mate.
Max’s words were private, meant for Patrick’s ears alone and Dylan was the intruder. He felt like a fraud, the worst human being on earth.
Before meeting Pat, Dylan intended to announce his presence, to tell Max the truth, that he wasn’t a normal cat.
In the end, he chickened out. Dylan shoved all his clothes in his backpack, hid the pack behind a tree and shifted.
He didn’t know things would turn out like this, that today would finally be the day he discovered the source of Max’s sadness.
It tore up his heart, knowing Max had lost his mate.
Dylan didn’t have enough experience when it came to the mating game, but he knew losing a mate was devastating. It tore the soul in half. It took a different kind of man to continue living while his other half passed away.
Max’s words lingered in his head.
His wounded lion promised Patrick that he would live, but Dylan had a feeling Max was failing in that department.
For one, he’d never seen Max smile. Ever.
Max had confessed to Patrick’s tomb that he hadn’t met the right one.
Dylan’s pulse raced at those words. Could he be the one? Dylan believed in chances. Fate didn’t let them meet each other for no reason.
Max stopped to chat with the caretaker. A chill crept over his fur. Strange. When he looked up, Dylan’s heart nearly gave out. A tall blond guy in his late twenties stood behind the caretaker, nearly see-through. Transparent. A ghost.
The man looked at Max then focused his attention on Dylan. He panicked. If he were human, he would have screamed and run for the hills.
God. This was why he avoided graveyards or places where a murder was recently committed. Tabby shifters saw the dead. What did Max’s ex want? Retribution?
He backed away, but Max scooped him in his arms. Max clearly couldn’t see the specter of his dead mate. Patrick stepped away from the caretaker.
Go away.
Nothing happened.
Silently willing the dead to leave wasn’t effective.
Patrick didn’t say a thing, merely studied him with pale blue eyes. It was creeping the hell out of Dylan and Max’s grip on him was tight, vise-like. In other circumstances, he would have loved nothing better than Max’s attention.
The ghost opened its mouth, but no words came out, at least none Dylan could here.
“Well then, see you next year,” the caretaker told Max. The old guy paused to frown at Dylan. “Who’s this?”
The old man began rubbing at Dylan’s head. He glared, making the old guy laugh.
“Huh. Usually’s he’s pretty friendly,” Max said. “He’s probably hungry.”
“Is he yours?” the caretaker asked.
Max’s next answer shocked the hell out of him.
“He is now.”