The Litter Box Incident

By evening, I had changed back into human form.

Naked, naturally.

Because the universe wanted me dead.

Liam came home from the pet store just as I woke in his bed, curled in his blanket and absolutely not wearing clothes.

The door opened.

He froze.

I froze.

Then I yanked the blanket over my head and screamed.

“Get out!”

Liam turned around so fast he nearly hit the doorframe.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Do not comfort me like that!”

“I really didn’t.”

“Stop talking!”

He left the bags near the door and escaped.

I emerged from the blanket red-faced and furious at my entire bloodline.

After finding one of Liam’s oversized hoodies, I put it on. His pants were hopelessly large, and my tail had nowhere to go, so I skipped them.

When I walked out, Liam was in the kitchen cooking.

He wore an apron.

The light fell softly over his shoulders.

For one terrible second, I had the illusion of being married and cared for.

Then he looked over.

His gaze dropped.

He frowned.

“Where are your pants?”

“My tail needs space.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only answer you’re getting.”

He turned off the stove and walked toward me.

He was tall enough that his shadow swallowed the floor between us.

For some reason, my eyes stung.

Liam stopped.

His expression changed.

“Why are you crying?”

I had not realized I was.

He stepped closer and gently covered my eyes with his hand.

The warmth broke something in me.

“Liam,” I whispered.

Then my voice cracked.

“Why am I like this?”

The tears came all at once.

I cried so hard I could barely breathe.

All the fear I had swallowed since the tail, the ears, the paws, the fainting, the phone call with my useless parents—it poured out against Liam’s chest.

He did not tease me.

He did not call me dramatic.

He only held me and patted my back, over and over.

“I’m here,” he said. “You’re okay.”

I cried until his shirt was damp.

Then I hiccupped.

“I’m tired.”

“I know.”

Later, after I calmed down, I called my mother and demanded answers.

She answered from what sounded like a beach resort.

“Oh, right,” she said. “You’re a cat shifter.”

“Mom.”

“You’re old enough now. Find a mate yourself.”

“Mom!”

“Your grandmother and I both had late awakenings too. It’s fine.”

“Fine? I turned into a cat in Liam Blackwood’s bed!”

A pause.

Then my mother said, “Oh? Liam? He’s handsome.”

I hung up.

Useless.

Absolutely useless.

When I returned to the living room, Liam was setting up a litter box.

I stared.

“What is that?”

“For emergencies.”

“I can use a toilet.”

“I don’t want to fish you out if you fall in.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

He sprinkled litter into the box with perfect seriousness.

I pointed at him.

“If you tell anyone about this, I will ruin your life.”

“Mia.”

“What?”

“You are currently wearing my hoodie and threatening me over a litter box.”

I looked down.

He had a point.

I hated when Liam had a point.