“The cat you’re minding?”

“Yep.” He nodded. I bit my lip trying not to laugh. It wasn’t funny. He was telling me about some shit that’d gone down that had upset him, but come on. How was I supposed to react? He’d used needing food for the cat he was sitting as an excuse to get out of a date. And the cat’s name was Dodge? You couldn’t make that shit up. I snorted, unsuccessfully trying to stifle my laugh, and wiped my eyes, tears welling from the effort. Trent paused and looked at me, confused, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I laughed and shook my head, holding my hand up to him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you, but seriously?” I sucked in a breath, my side hurting because I was laughing so hard. “Cat food? For Dodge?” Trent’s lips twitched, and I could see him fighting the smile. I looked at him again and laughed once more, nudging him with my shoulder. “You didn’t even realize how it sounded until now, did you?” When he shook his head and finally let that smile loose, I sucked in a breath, happy for a whole other reason. It was his story and he’d told it, but he was smiling and I couldn’t help but take a little pride in that.

“Fuck me. She looked so damn horrified when I said that, but all I could think about was getting out of there.” He chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m such a dumb ass.”

“Nah, you just didn’t think.” I nudged his shoulder playfully, letting him know that it wasn’t all bad. “At least tell me you got the food.”

He nodded and sobered up. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there, but I didn’t want to go home either. Figured you would have been busy, so I stopped by the sports bar. Watched a footy match. Haven’t done that by myself in years, and I hated every minute of it. Suppose I had too many drinks.”

My heart clenched, and I wanted to reach out to him. Instead I leaned closer, my side pressed against his, and asked, “You didn’t drive home, did you?” I wasn’t sure whether I was begging him or scolding him for being so damn stupid. If he’d been drinking and driving not only could it be the end of his career, but more importantly, he could have killed someone. And it was all because he didn’t call me.

“Nah, I walked it. The night air sobered me up pretty fast.”

Thank God. I let out the breath I was holding, relief winning my emotional tug-of-war.

“So what happened yesterday and today? You just kept drinking?” It was none of my business, I knew that, but I didn’t care. I needed to know.

“Something like that,” he muttered. This was him shutting down. A noncommittal answer followed by either a subject change or him going quiet, but I couldn’t do it. I needed him to be able to talk to me.

“Look, I’m not going to push you, but maybe it’ll help if you spoke about whatever is bothering you. I’m here. I’ll listen, and I’ll do my best to help, but I can’t unless you talk to me. If not me, then pick someone else. I’m worried about you.”

“Some bad shit happened when I was younger. This time of year always drags it back up, but I’ll get through it.” He paused and added, “This—walking and being outside, spending time with you—it’s helping. You’re helping.”