A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 61: CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

ASHLEY

What. A. Day.

I rubbed my forehead, exhaling slowly. My brain was fried, my patience nonexistent, and at this point, the only thing capable of fixing my mood was caffeine.

Yes. Coffee. A strong, scalding, possibly life-altering cup of coffee.

I barely made it to the kitchen when—

A scream.

A loud, panicked, completely unhinged scream.

Followed by a thud.

Then a crash.

Then—"WHAT THE FUCK, ASHLEY?!"

My heart lurched.

“What the—Kyle?”

More chaos. A muffled scuffle. The unmistakable sound of something—or someone—slamming against the wall.

Then a deep, shuddering breath. “Jesus fucking—ASHLEY!!”

I bolted toward the hallway, almost tripping over my own feet.

Another thud. Another curse.

I skidded to a stop outside the bathroom door, breathless. “What? What happened?”

For a second, there was only silence. Then—

A low, strangled, absolutely traumatized whisper:

“Your cat. Is a demon.”

I blinked. “What?”

Kyle’s voice shot up an octave. “I’m under attack!”

“What do you mean—”

The door flew open, and suddenly, I was face to face with a six-foot-two grown-ass man clutching the bathroom sink like it was his last hope for survival.

His hair was a mess, his shirt slightly askew, and the look in his eyes? Pure terror.

And then I saw it.

Mochi.

Perched on the bathroom counter, tail flicking menacingly, ears pinned back like a tiny, furry assassin.

She let out a slow hiss.

Kyle flinched.

I stared. Then blinked. Then—"Oh my God."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to contain the laugh bubbling up my throat.

Kyle glared at me, chest rising and falling like he’d just survived a life-threatening event. “This is not funny.”

“Oh, it’s—” I wheezed, doubling over. “It’s so funny.”

He scowled, jerking a thumb at the tiny, fluffy murderer still watching him like he owed her money. “That thing tried to kill me.”

I wiped at my eyes, gasping for breath. “She’s a cat, Kyle.”

“She ambushed me!” He jabbed a finger at the floor. “I walked in, and she launched herself at my leg like a goddamn facehugger from Alien!”

I snorted.

Kyle’s nostrils flared. “She had murder in her eyes, Ashley. Murder.”

Mochi flicked her tail.

Kyle visibly tensed.

I pressed my lips together, failing miserably to look sympathetic. “She probably didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah?” He shot me a murderous look. “Then explain why she’s still staring at me like she’s waiting for me to drop my guard so she can finish the job?”

I turned to Mochi. She blinked at me. Then, with zero shame, she stretched out her paw and gently patted Kyle’s shoe—like she was testing him.

Kyle jumped back so fast he almost crashed into the towel rack.

I lost it.

Full-on, ugly laughing, hands on my knees, struggling to breathe.

Kyle glared. “You’re the worst.”

I waved a hand at him, wheezing. “You—You got bullied by an eight-pound cat.”

“She’s feral.”

“She’s fluffy.”

Kyle scowled at Mochi. Mochi squinted at Kyle.

A silent stand-off.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Mochi slowly turned around—flashing Kyle her tail in the most disrespectful way possible—and sauntered out of the bathroom.

Kyle gaped. “Did she just—”

“Oh, she absolutely did.”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “Unbelievable.”

I bit my lip, still giggling. “So…still need to pee, or did Mochi scare it out of you?”

Kyle shot me a look that promised vengeance.

I just smiled.

Still grinning, I turned away, leaving Kyle to recover whatever was left of his dignity.

Mochi, clearly satisfied with herself, pranced past me with her tail high, like a victorious warrior returning from battle.

I shook my head and headed for the kitchen.

A part of me wanted to kick Kyle out immediately—remind him that I’d only let him in under duress and that he was supposed to do his business and leave. But after that little performance? Kicking him out now would be too easy.

Besides…somewhere deep in my traitorous, caffeine-starved brain, I kind of felt bad for him.

So instead of hovering by the door and waiting for him to leave, I pulled out two mugs and started making coffee.

By the time Kyle emerged from the hallway, looking slightly less traumatized but still a little rattled, I was leaning against the counter, stirring sugar into my cup.

He stopped when he saw the extra mug. His brows lifted. “Is that for me, or did you just forget you’re only one person?”

I rolled my eyes and slid the mug toward him. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He took it without protest, blowing on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. A comfortable one.

And that was the problem.

This was too easy. Too familiar.

I should’ve been itching to get rid of him. I should’ve been throwing his ass out, reinforcing all the reasons I didn’t want him in my life.

Instead, we were standing here, drinking coffee like we hadn’t spent the last two years apart. Like we hadn’t—

I cleared my throat and turned away, pacing toward the living room.

Kyle followed, his footsteps easy and unhurried.

“Your coach” he said after a moment.

I blinked, glancing at it. “Yeah?”

He nodded, running a hand over the soft, navy fabric. “Didn’t peg you for a blue person. You've always preferred something more purple ish”

“I didn’t peg you for a cat person, and yet here you are, getting your ass handed to you by an eight-pound fluffball.”

His lips twitched. “Touché.”

I sank into the couch, tucking my legs under me, forcing myself to relax.

Kyle lingered for a second before finally sitting beside me. Not too close, but not far enough either.

And then—

“You wanna watch something?”

I froze, my coffee halfway to my lips.

Kyle was staring at the TV, completely casual, like this was a totally normal suggestion and not something that could send me into dangerous territory.

I frowned. “You were supposed to take a piss and leave.”

He shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “And yet, here I am.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“No, it's part of our truce, remember?” he said with a smirk.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Kyle—”

“One movie,” he cut in smoothly, leaning back against the couch. “I won’t even talk.”

I squinted at him. “You always talk during movies.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

“You can’t be quiet.”

He smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

I opened my mouth, ready to shut this down—

Then closed it again.

Because, honestly? I was tired.

Tired of the day, tired of fighting, tired of the fact that, no matter how much I tried to keep him at arm’s length, he still managed to sneak in.

So instead of arguing, I sighed, grabbed the remote, and scrolled through the streaming options.

One movie.

That was it.

And then he was leaving.

…Right?