“Agreed. There’s a special place in hell for people who abuse animals.” Dr. Clark seemed to be stalling, looking for things to talk about. “You mentioned earlier you’re used to naming horses. I take it you ride?”
Levi quirked an eyebrow. “I do. Did. I grew up working with horses but I left that life behind. Needed a change.”
“A change you’re finding here?”
“We’ll see. The best part of my house is I can take it with me when I get itchy feet. I spent most of my life traveling, so settling down in any one spot for a long time will be a challenge.” But Levi needed the stability while he figured out his future. He missed his father and he missed his best friend, Robin, but distance was best for everyone for now. This was where the kittens had led him, and this was where he’d settle for a while.
“Sounds as if you’ve got some interesting stories to tell.” Dr. Clark wrote something on a business card and handed it over. “If you ever want to tell some stories over a beer, give me a call. I’ll get your kitten formula and meet you at the front desk.”
Levi tucked the card into his pocket and took his time gathering the little floofballs back into the box. The tuxedo kitty started purring immediately when he scratched behind her ears, the sound impossibly loud for such a small beast. But maybe now they’d all start feeling safe. Because they were.
“I have no idea how this is going to work in my little house. Every spot is precise. I don’t know where I’ll stash a litter box, but we’ll figure it out, right ladies?”
Ginger looked up and meowed at him, as if agreeing with his words. Despite getting his shit figured out in rehab and back on a good path, Levi still floundered most days. Still wondered if he was making the right choices, doing the right things. He was used to being given a schedule, to knowing which town he’d be performing in next, to a nomadic existence that made real, long-term relationships impossible.
Now he had a new town, three kittens, and a potential new friend. After completely losing himself to alcohol and drugs for a year of his life, this truly felt like the beginning of his second chance.
Chapter One
After living an incredibly solitary life for the last seven years, having friends was a huge mind fuck for George Thompson. He and his twin brother Orry had lived in their apartment for close to six months, and neither had done much to endear themselves to their neighbors except to stay quiet and not bother anyone. Now, half a year later, they had four good friends in their two sets of downstairs neighbors, and George was still getting used to being around people again.
Being around people before was essentially what sent the twins into hiding in the first place.
George was just finishing up his latest video-captioning assignment when his phone startled him with a text. Orry used to be the only person who ever texted him, but Orry was currently napping in his bedroom in between jobs. He worked his ass off doing multiple jobs to help pay rent and car insurance, but neither of them wanted to move out of their San Francisco neighborhood. They needed to stay close to their grandparents.
He grabbed his phone off the corner of his desk.
Slater: Pizza in the living room.
The text made him smile. The apartment was one of four inside a renovated old house—two upstairs and two downstairs. Their sextet of friends had started referring to the home’s big lobby as the living room because it had furniture, magazines and books that all residents were free to use. The other upstairs residents, a quiet father-daughter duo, weren’t very sociable and that was fine. Once upon a time, George hadn’t been sociable either.
George responded he’d be down, then went to check on Orry. He’d been napping for a few hours and would probably like to eat. Orry never turned down free food. His brother was sprawled on his bed, face pressed into a pillow, his phone playing a white noise app. Even though George used headphones when closed-captioning, so Orry couldn’t overhear the videos, Orry said it made him feel less like he knew George was in his own bedroom watching porn.
Closed-captioning for porn was definitely a thing, and George had seriously lucked into a job that didn’t require him to leave the house.
“Dude, you want pizza?” George asked.
Orry jerked upright in bed, as if summoned from the deep by the mere mention of the p-word. He yawned and rubbed at his face. “M’kay. Where?”
“Living room. Slater offered.”
“Cool. Gimme a minute.” Bro code for I gotta whiz.
George waited in the living room for Orry’s rumpled emergence from the tiny hallway beyond their open living space. His attention went to the floor near a section of wall where a photo had broken a few months ago. Broken because of George’s stupidity. He thought they’d cleaned up the glass but Orry had cut himself a few days later, because George had missed something. Small things like that loved to take up space in his head, and George was tired of it.
Having friends meant new things to take up space in his head, instead of letting the past crowd everything out.
Orry appeared a few minutes later, and together they went downstairs to the “living room.” Slater and Derrick were there with two pizza boxes and a six-pack. At almost the same moment George and Orry appeared, the door to the other downstairs apartment opened, spilling out Dez and Morgan.
Morgan used to scare George because of his general size and muscles, but he was the epitome of the gentle giant. His partner, Dez, on the other hand, was roughly half his size, nonbinary, and preferred she/her pronouns. Today, Dez wore leggings, a button-down shirt and a tie, and her hair had grown out a bit. Slater and Derrick were a now-committed couple whose relationship had started as fake and ended up as something way more permanent—a truth Slater had finally revealed to George and Orry around Halloween. George had genuinely believed they’d been a couple the whole time because chemistry oozed off them.
“Hey,” Morgan said once their sextet had collected themselves around the food. “What are we eating today?”
“I decided to be nice to Dez,” Derrick replied, “and one of the pies has vegan cheese and vegan pepperoni. You’re welcome.”
Dez pumped her fist in the air. She was a part-time vegan, from what George understood, eating her tofu while also catering to Morgan’s taste for meat. Seemed odd to George, but whatever made the pair’s relationship work. Dez had volunteered to cook for the twins a few times, but they always found a polite excuse.
Curious, George tried the vegan pie instead of the other, which looked like supreme. Pizza wasn’t the healthiest thing anyway, and while George wasn’t as militant about his diet as he once was, he’d never be the guy who pigged out on junk food and soda.
“Who has plans for Thanksgiving?” Derrick asked once everyone had pizza, his deep voice booming in the large lobby. Like Morgan, Derrick used to intimidate George because he was tall and broad, but the guy was one of the kindest, most easygoing people George had ever met. And he was clearly in love with Slater, which sometimes made George a little jealous.