When I reached for it, Baxter picked it up again and turned toward the yard. Then he ran.
I followed without thinking — through the gap in the fence Lily used to squeeze through to play in the empty lot next door. Baxter kept stopping to make sure I was behind him.
He led me to an old shed near the edge of the lot. The door hung open. Inside, sunlight cut through warped boards.
That’s when I saw it.
A nest made of clothing. Lily’s clothing.
Her scarf. Her hoodie. Her old cardigan. And curled inside them — a calico cat with three tiny kittens pressed against her.
Baxter dropped the sweater beside them, and the kittens instinctively moved toward it.
That’s when I realized — it wasn’t the sweater from the accident. It was the second one. The backup I had forgotten about.
Lily had been sneaking out here.
She had been protecting them.
