Above the antique store: Cat & Bruce
It was the first time she wished she was older. Or, at least, that she looked older. Oh, she wasn't worried that Bruce wouldn't recognize her. After all, based on what she saw in the mirror, she'd already given birth to Helena at this age. He was one of the few people in town who had actually known her like this. So, no, it wasn't that. It was the fact that Bruce, unlike the others, would ask questions. He'd want a solution. He'd want to face it head on, and Cat had been avoiding that. She'd been staying with people out of an unacknowledged and unspoken fear of being alone, and she hadn't looked into it.
Oh, it had been easy. Stephanie saw her as someone young and needing care, and she'd insisted Cat stay with her, and Cat had done her the favor of staying. And Reece, well, Reece was Reece, and he took her reasons for occasionally needing a place to stay as fact, unexamined. Or, perhaps he thought she was a girl with a crush. Who knew? The fact was that the world had conspired to give her precisely what she'd needed, at least until now.
But, Bruce would be a harder sell, and the young woman that climbed into the upstairs bedroom window of the antiques store in a jacket and dress knew that. Her heeled boots landed on the floor without a sound, and she hadn't even torn the thick fishnets she wore. She assumed he'd be asleep at this time of night. The room was dark, but Cat was at home in the dark. She hated to admit it, but she was even better moving around in the void after her weeks in a black room. She moved stealthily, and she perched at the foot of the bed. She had a messenger bag slung across her body, and she set it on the blanket and opened the flap. It smelled like the food she'd ferreted away inside. Wonderful, greasy, dreadful food. Along with some dull things, in case Bruce proved to be difficult. Which was, Cat knew, par for the course.