Page 45 of Keystrokes and Kittens

Well, crap.“Uh, yeah, I took care of it. You were so upset, and the last thing you needed was to be sorting out—”

“How much?” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I mean—thank you for doing that. And how much?”

“Nothing that you need to worry about.”

He stared.

I sighed. “Look, Sam, I’m kind of invested too. And I was the one who made the decision to go to the vet in the first place. You might’ve decided to—”

“What? Watch Carlos die at home?”

After a moment, I shrugged. “That should’ve been your call.”

He put his hand on the table.

I grasped it.

He offered a smile. “Thank you. I still want to pay you back.”

Arguing was my gut reaction. I didn’t need his money. Plus, I’d been panicked and had raced Carlos and the other kittens to see Dr. Malcolm. I would’ve been devastated if one—or all—of the kittens had died on me. “How about you pay for the next pizza?”

“Soren.”

“Sam.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Is that all? Because I get the feeling this is more than a tiny vet bill.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“A vet bill I’m more than able to cover. They were very reasonable and threw in the exam for the other two for free.”

“Oh.” Sam squinted. “That was very nice of them.”

“Yes, it was. And I’ve been loyally going there with Tibby and will continue to see Dr. Malcolm for as long as I have pets.”

“Yeah.”

“So what else is on your mind?”

He sighed. “Quinta.”

My ears perked. “Is she okay? Does she need something? Is she coming home soon?” I tried to think of why Sam looked glum.If she was hurt, he would’ve said something right away.That kept me from crawling out of my skin. From demanding answers.

“She, uh—” He cleared his throat. “She’s met a guy. A man. He’s like seven years older than her.”

I refrained from pointing out that I was eight years older than him.

“The thing is—” He swallowed. “She doesn’t want to come home this summer. She wants to stay in LA, in an apartment she’s sharing with some other girls, andget to knowthis guy.” He said the words in air quotes. “Anyway, she texted me, and we’re supposed to have a video chat in about twenty minutes. It’s why I brought my laptop.”

Well, that answered one question I’d been curious about but hadn’t known how to ask. “Okay. Do you want to set up here? Or would you prefer your room? I’ll give you privacy, of course—”

“I’d like you to be with me.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“I’d like you to be with me. I want to introduce you to Quinta. And, frankly, I need your support. If you think I’m about to say something monumentally stupid, I need you to stop me.”