His eyes pinched closed, and he instantly regretted his harsh tone. Stefan dropped to his haunches.
“Hey,” he said, hooking his thumb under Jacob’s chin and lifting his face. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay, buddy?”
“But he was crying,” his nephew murmured. “I had to save him. And he’s bleeding, Uncle Stefan. He’s gonna die.”
Stefan noticed the white fur on the cat’s ear had a pinkish tint, and was getting pinker by the minute. He blew out a sigh.
“Let’s take it inside. Maybe we can put a Band-Aid on it.” He took the cat from Jacob and started for the house, calling over his shoulder, “Leave your muddy shoes on the porch.”
One thing Stefan had discovered in the week and a half since he’d been here was that keeping a three bedroom, two and a half bathroom creole-style cottage clean was a thousand times more work than a barely four-hundred square foot studio apartment.
He brought the cat into the downstairs half-bath. The minute he sat it on the counter, the pudgy rascal tried to scamper off.
“No you don’t.” He caught it by the scruff of his neck.
“You gonna choke him, Uncle Stefan!”
His nephew’s horrified expression had Stefan quickly releasing his hold on the cat. He drew it close to his chest and inspected the ear.
“You want to get me a couple of Band-Aids?”
The boy nodded and took off for the upstairs bathroom.
Stefan regarded the jagged tear on the cat’s ear and knew a Band-Aid wouldn’t cut it. He slumped against the sink. A roughed up cat had not been a part of his babysitting detail.
He wondered if he could somehow get rid of it before Jacob made it back downstairs. He could say the cat had jumped out of his arms and raced out the back door.
Except that the back door was closed. And he could already hear his nephew’s feet padding down the stairs.
And the kid wasn’t stupid.
Jacob returned with a box of SpongeBob bandages. He’d also brought along a large bath towel and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Yep, smart kid.
Jacob handed the alcohol to Stefan. “It’s gonna sting for just a little while,” he whispered to the cat. “But it will feel better.”
Stefan set the cat on the counter, but then Jacob’s gasp drew his attention from the injured ear he was preparing to clean. Eyes wide, his nephew pointed to Stefan’s shirt. He looked down to find it covered in blood, a lot more blood than what was coming from the cat’s ear.
“Aw, shit.”
Jacob’s eyes grew wider, and Stefan remembered his sister’s warning about swear words being off limits.
Yet she’d left a fourteen-year Navy man in charge of her son.
“Sorry,” Stefan mumbled.
“We need to take him to the animal doctor,” Jacob said.
“No, no. He’s okay.” He was not spending money taking this cat to the vet. “We just need to keep pressure on his cuts.” But when he took his hand away, it too was covered in blood.
“But, Uncle Stefan, he’s gonna die.”
Jacob’s choked cry sent an arrow of despair spearing through Stefan’s chest. He looked down at the boy and saw the unmistakable moisture collecting around his eyes.
Shit!
The kid had been through so much already this year, losing his dad in an automobile accident, and then having his mom called to serve in a war. The smile he’d spotted on Jacob’s face when he’d found the cat was the first one Stefan had witnessed since he’d come to Maplesville. If the cat died, who knew what that would do to Jacob.
The fact that the cat, who’d been feisty and ready to run just a few minutes ago, was now docile and listless, told Stefan all he needed to know. He wrapped him up in the plush bath towel.
“Come on.” He motioned for Jacob to follow him into the living room. “Sit here for a minute,” he said, placing the swaddled cat into his nephew’s outstretched arms. “I’ll get us clean clothes to change into and we’ll take the cat to the animal doctor.”
He went into the spare room he’d claimed for himself and changed out of the bloody shirt and muddy sweatpants, and into a dark green Henley top and jeans. He stopped in Jacob’s room across the hallway and grabbed pants, a sweater, and a pair of tennis shoes from his closet.
On his way back downstairs, Stefan embarked upon the first step and had to catch himself on the railing to keep from falling.
“Dammit!”
Dread clawed up his throat.
Stefan tried to tell himself that tripping on the top step had just been a clumsy mistake, but after years of physical training at the Naval Academy and over a decade in combat, he was as agile as that cat downstairs. Clumsiness wasn’t to blame for his near fall; the repercussions from an IED hitting its mark was the cause.
A familiar mixture of anxiety and alarm knotted his stomach. He hadn’t had an incident in over two months, and had started to believe that his depth perception was improving. He thought the surgery he’d had to repair his optical nerve had been successful. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Uncle Stefan?” Jacob’s timid voice floated up from the living room.
“On my way,” Stefan called as he continued down the stairs. He dropped the clothes and tennis shoes on the sofa next to Jacob and lifted the cat from his arms. “Go and change out of those muddy clothes, and then we’ll take the cat to the animal doctor.”
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A native of south Louisiana, USA Today Bestselling author, Farrah Rochon, officially began her writing career while waiting in between classes in the student lounge at Xavier University of Louisiana. After earning her Bachelors of Science degree and a Masters of Arts from Southeastern Louisiana University, Farrah decided to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming a published novelist. She was named Shades of Romance Magazine's Best New Author of 2007. Her debut novel garnered rave reviews, earning Farrah several SORMAG Readers' Choice Awards. I’ll Catch You, the second book in her New York Sabers series for Harlequin Kimani, was a 2012 RITA(R) Award finalist.
When she is not writing in her favorite coffee shop, Farrah spends most of her time reading her favorite romance novels or seeing as many Broadway shows as possible. An admitted sports fanatic, Farrah feeds her addiction to football by watching New Orleans Saints games on Sunday afternoons.
I Dare You! (Moments in Maplesville Book 4) Page 13