Free Fool's Gold by Jaye Wells

me as nothing more than a mixed-blood, the lesson echoed through my head.
    I’ll always be better off alone.
    Â Â 
    By the time I got home, my indignation had burned off, leaving the suffocating smoke of melancholy behind. I got out of my car and dragged my sorry ass up the sidewalk with my head hung low. It wasn’t until I was almost on the porch that the feeling struck me that I was being watched.
    I froze and looked around. The street was deserted and I didn’t detect any life among the tall trees surrounding the house. A noise came from the shadows of the porch. I flicked my gaze in the direction. A small, traitorous part of my mind hoped to find Slade standing there. Instead, a pair of tiny eyes flashed from the darkness.
    Hisss!
    I blew out my breath and let my shoulders sag. “Oh, it’s you.” I stepped onto the porch, where Satan was sitting on my doormat.
    The cat’s head tilted. “Meow.”
    â€œDon’t try apologizing. It’s not going to work.” I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door without looking at the furball. When I pushed the door in, I held out a foot to block the cat’s entrance. It hissed and scratched at my boots. With a sigh, I grabbed Satan by the scruff of its neck.
    Looking into the cat’s eyes, I hardened my heart. It would be so easy to let the cat back inside. But I knew it was only a matter of time before Satan escaped again. I shook my head. No, better to end this now. I didn’t have room in my life for anyone or anything. Certainly not for an ungrateful beast who shit all over my life before running away. “It’s over, Satan,” I said. “Don’t come back.”
    I walked to the edge of the porch and set him below the step. The cat fell back on its butt and meowed up at me. I put my hands on my hips. “Go! Get out of here.”
    I flashed my fangs and hissed. The cat’s hackles rose and he hissed before streaking toward the treeline.
    After Satan was gone, I allowed myself deflate. Going inside, I dropped my stuff on the floor and locked the door behind me. I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes. Silence surrounded me, pressing in on my skin.
    Alone.
    I told myself it was better this way. Life was a lot easier when you didn’t trust anyone. Simpler. Simple was good. I looked around at the ruined sofa and the shit stains on my living room rug. I’d learned the hard way that opening myself up to trusting others was messy.
    Pushing off the door, I went into my kitchen for a beer. I pulled back the tab and drank deeply. But the carbonation couldn’t wash away the bitter taste on my tongue. When I lowered the beer, my gaze landed on the bag of cat food and the shiny bowls I’d bought for Satan.
    I pursed my lips and tried to decide what to do with all the gear I’d bought. I could throw them away. But right then, an image of Satan with its hackles up rose in my mind. I thought about the notch out of its ear from fighting. I thought about the matted hair and the aggression. No wonder Satan had been so angry. The cat never found anyone it could trust, either.
    My decision made, I filled one bowl with food and the other with water. Before I could second-guess myself, I snuck out the front door and stashed the food in the far corner of my porch. Then I went back inside, locked the door, and stood at the window.
    Fifteen minutes later, an orange-tinted shadow appeared on the porch. Satan’s steps were cautious. I held my breath and peeked through a miniscule slit in the blinds. The cat glanced at the door, as if expecting a trick. When I didn’t jump out at it, it took a few more steps toward the food.
    Then after a good long while, Satan reached the bowl, sniffed it experimentally, and then lost its battle against caution. The cat dove face first into the food and chowed down.
    Smiling, I closed the blinds and left the cat to its feast.
    I told myself that the food was