Echoes of Three Souls

Chapter 13: Unspoken Bonds

Scarlett's POV

I watched Maeve as she finally succumbed to sleep, her delicate frame curling beneath the blankets. Her arms clung tightly to Poppy, from what I gathered was her beloved stuffed bunny, while her cat, who she called Archie, nestled protectively at her side. The scene was almost unbearably sweet. Maeve, in her vulnerability, seemed to need protection, and in moments like this, I understood why. I reached out slowly, letting Archie sniff my hand. He hesitated, then gave a soft nuzzle, granting me permission to pet him.

"Hello, boy," I whispered, my fingers gently stroking his fur. There was something comforting about him as if he knew his role was to keep her safe. And, of course, he would be sweet—he belonged to Maeve. I glanced at Reese. He stood there, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched the cat warily. "Look, Reese, he's protecting her," I said softly, trying to draw him into the moment.

Reese's distaste for cats was something I'd never quite understood, though it amused me endlessly, a tall and large man being afraid of something so small like a cat. He wasn't a man easily fazed by anything—except felines, apparently. My mind wandered back to Snickers, the cat my parents had given me for my ninth birthday. They'd meant well, I suppose. Their logic was that a pet would keep me company during their frequent and often prolonged absences. What they didn't understand was that no cat, no matter how affectionate, could replace the connection I desperately needed from them.

My parents—busy, successful, and forever absent—had given me everything material I could ever want. I grew up surrounded by wealth and luxury. But money doesn't raise a child. I was left in the care of nannies and house staff while my mother and father lived their lives somewhere far away. I acted out, of course, partying, drinking, getting in trouble at school, starving myself—anything to make them see me. To make them care,. But their solution was always to send more gifts, more distractions, and send me to professionals rather than their presence.

By the time I introduced Reese to Snickers at fifteen, I had learned to stop expecting anything from my parents. It wasn't a surprise that they didn't understand the importance of being around, both coming from wealthy families who valued work and business. Reese was my rock back then and still is now, the one person who saw me beyond the polished exterior. Though Snickers never took to him—hissing and scratching in protest—Reese had never forgotten that first encounter. Hence, his current wariness toward Archie.

I glanced back at him, noticing the tight set of his jaw as he stared down at Maeve's cat. His eyes flickered with a mixture of apprehension and protectiveness—an odd combination but typical of Reese.

"Let him sniff your hand, Reese," I urged gently, keeping my tone low to avoid waking Maeve.

Reese's eyes met mine, his reluctance obvious. "Uh... I'm good, Lettie. Let's just let Maeve sleep," he muttered, trying to dismiss the situation. But I wasn't having it.

"Come on, darling, just try. For me?" I coaxed, the warmth in my voice softening his resistance. I knew he couldn't deny me when I asked like that.

He exhaled sharply, clearly resigned, and extended his hand cautiously toward Archie. The cat eyed him, his whiskers twitching as he took in Reese's scent. For a moment, I thought Reese might pull his hand back—old habits die hard—but before he could, I gently laid my hand over his wrist, holding him steady. "Wait," I whispered, catching his eye. "Trust me."

Reluctantly, Reese stood still as Archie leaned in, sniffing his fingers with what looked like great consideration. To Reese's surprise and mine, the cat nuzzled his head against Reese's hand as if acknowledging some unspoken truce.

"Well, would you look at that," I said quietly, a small smile curving my lips.

Reese's posture relaxed, though only slightly. "Guess he's not so bad," he conceded, though his tone still carried the faintest hint of reluctance. His eyes flickered down to Archie, a quiet moment passing between them as if he were communicating something deeper than mere words could convey. "I may not like your kind," Reese murmured under his breath, addressing the cat as though it could understand him. "But we're on the same side here—protecting Maeve. Right?"