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something’s wrong, or….”
    Maybe a ride to work wasn’t such a bad idea. “Thanks. That would be great.” There was no need to be rude, and Harry was being so kind. Tristan hurried to his room, closed the door, and dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before. He hated the way they felt. There was nothing worse than being clean and putting on dirty clothes. He’d have to change fast before he went in to work. Once he was ready, Tristan stepped out and waited. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to go downstairs. Harry joined him in the hall a few minutes later and disarmed the alarm system.
    Tristan followed Harry downstairs, yawning as he went. He needed to remember that staying out until after two the night before he had to work was so not a good idea. He yawned widely. He did his best to cover it up, but failed miserably.
    “Let me put some coffee on—I think we both need it,” Harry said.
    Tristan yawned again and nodded. He needed coffee bad. “Maybe you could set up an IV drip of the stuff.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes drifting closed. He jumped when he felt something brush his legs and stiffened when he realized it was the cat. “What is it doing?”
    “She’s just rubbing against you. It means she wants to be friends,” Harry said. “Come on.” He leaned down and lifted Butterscotch into his arms. “She must like you, or she wouldn’t have come out at all.”
    “Maybe she’s waiting for her chance to eat me. I’ve heard stories about people dying and being eaten by their cats,” Tristan said, staring wide-eyed at the ball of furry death in Harry’s arms.
    “Those are stories told around campfires and stuff that are meant to scare you as a kid.”
    Harry put the cat down, and she sat at Tristan’s feet, staring at him with huge eyes that seemed to drill into him. Didn’t the damn thing blink, for God’s sake? Tristan shifted away. He didn’t like cats, and he hated that Harry had seen he was afraid of them. On an intellectual level he knew being afraid of cats was sort of stupid, but even now, with the cat just watching him, his heart raced, and he was fighting the urge to run. But he sat still, clutching the chair.
    “Butterscotch, go in and eat,” Harry said to the cat, who completely ignored him. Harry opened one of the cupboards, pulled out a small can, and opened the lid. He showed the cat the container, and she stood up, now watching Harry’s every move. “Cat treats,” Harry said and tossed a few onto the floor a ways away. Butterscotch leaped after them, and Tristan relaxed slightly.
    “I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” Tristan whispered.
    “Do you know why you’re afraid of cats?” Harry asked as he poured coffee into a travel mug.
    Tristan shivered. “No. I’ve never liked them.” He stood when Harry handed him the mug. He wrapped his hands around it not because he was cold, but because the heat was comforting. “A doctor once told me that most people see a cat as soft, cuddly, and warm. I see them as furry balls of death who want to eat me.” Tristan smiled to make light of it. “You see a cat, but I see danger.” It was the best way he could describe it. “I know it seems dumb, but that’s the way I feel. There isn’t anything logical about it. I wish there were, because then I could fix it. But I can’t. I’ve petted cats. My mom made me when I was a kid. I nearly wet myself, but I did it. My mom thought that was some huge accomplishment and that I’d get over it once I realized how soft they were. Then it licked me and tried to scrape my skin off, and that was it.”
    Harry had filled another travel mug and motioned toward the front door. “Do dogs bother you?”
    “No. I like dogs. Just cats.”
    “Is it all cats? Like lions and tigers too?”
    Tristan chuckled. “I’ve never been close enough to one to find out.”
    Harry scoffed. “Yeah, that was kind of a dumb question. Go on out and wait by the car. I need to make