Finding Homes is so much more than I expected. My interview was conducted over Skype, so I wasn’t able to see the facility until now and wow, it’s kind of beat up, could use some new paint, and the office furniture, like desks and chairs, is at least ten years old and has seen better days. But that’s what you get when you’re working non-profit. You take what you can get for the least amount of money and you deal with it because you want to spend the money where it counts the most, in this case, for the animals.

So when I caught glimpses here and there of the kennels, my heart soared, knowing exactly where the money is going. The kennels were all new, feeling more like apartments rather than cages. Built-ins, each kennel has carpet and concrete, comfortable beds, climbing and scratching posts for cats, and of course lots of toys for the dogs. Endless water flows into small bowls, there are doggie doors that lead to an open space where the dogs can go to the bathroom and play, and if they want quiet time, they can climb back into their kennels. It’s wonderful.

“I’m so impressed with the living arrangements for the animals. The shelter I worked at beforehand had a hard time keeping up with the accommodations.”

Marcy, my boss and the director of the center says, “We received a large donation last year to upgrade all of the kennels for the animals. It was a huge undertaking, but luckily, a construction company came in and redid the area for us at cost. We had some money left over for a new outdoor area.”

“Which is incredible by the way. The fact that they have the freedom to stretch their legs whenever they want is great. With a lack of volunteers, it’s hard to walk the dogs as much as they need it.”

“So hard. It was one of the reasons why we wanted the open space. Come this way.” She guides me down the cat hall. “Most of the cats are allowed to mingle, but there are some that we’ve found like a more solitary way of living. They’re on cat row.”

“That sounds bad.”

She chuckles. “It’s not, I promise.”

“Do you ever euthanize the animals?”

She sighs and pauses in our tour. “Unfortunately, there are times when we have to. We only have a certain amount of space here and at the foster homes. If the animal has medical complications that we can’t afford to keep up on, then yes, the animal has to be put down but we do everything in our power to avoid getting to that point.”

I press my hand to my heart. “Oh, that’s so sad, but I get it, I really do.”

“Hopefully with your help, we won’t ever have to euthanize another animal.”

“I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. I have some fresh ideas for adoptions and I’m excited to try them out.”

“The ideas you offered in your interview were what got you the job, and we’re very excited to get everything started.” That is music to my ears. I know I’ll be good at this job, but to know that it was my ideas that got me this job? It just gives me even more confidence. This is where I’m supposed to be. I know it now.

“Who’s your longest resident?”

Marcy brings me to the end of cat row and points to the tabby that’s hiding in the back of its little apartment. Large and fluffy with green eyes, he looks up at me and all I see is sadness, which just about breaks me.

“This is Chip. His owner passed away from lung cancer despite never smoking a day in her life, a wonderful lady who volunteered here. I think at the time when she was volunteering, she knew she wouldn’t be around for much longer because six months later, we got a call from her sister, asking if we could take Chip in. Part of her will was slotted for us and we used that money to help build cat row. We call this Chip’s corner. He unfortunately hasn’t matched with anyone, and we believe it’s because he’s heartbroken.”

“I believe it,” I say, stepping up to the glass and kneeling down so he’s eye level. I gently press my hand against the glass and keep my eyes trained on his. “I can see it in his eyes, they’re so . . . sad.”

“He’s a sweet cat, loves to be pet behind the ears, but we can’t seem to find anyone to connect with him.”

I stand tall and stick my hands in my pockets. “I’ll find a home for him. It will be my number-one goal. Chip deserves more than Chip’s corner.”

“There’s my girl.” Maddox pulls me into his side and wraps both arms around me as we meet up on the street outside the restaurant I chose. “How was your first day?”

I return the quick embrace and then step back. “Oh my God, Maddox, it was amazing. The facility is so great, besides the actual office part but whatever, we don’t need luxury. The kennels are brand new with beds and an outdoor space and rises for cats and water, clean water, and the dogs go on walks and run and play, and—”

“Kinny, babe.” Maddox chuckles. “Take a deep breath. Let’s grab a seat and then you can take your time telling me all about it, okay?”

I do just as he says and take a deep breath. “Okay.”

Maddox holds the door open for me to Kitchen 17, a vegan restaurant that was on my list of places to try. I told Maddox through text that there was plenty for him to eat, which there is . . . it’s just all plant-based. It won’t kill him. It actually won’t kill anything.

Once he walks through the door, I see him stop immediately and then lift his eyebrow directly at me—to the point that it hides under his hat, that’s how high he’s lifting it.

“What?” I ask with a smile.

“I thought I said no vegan places.”

I roll my eyes and take him by the hand, dragging him toward the register where we order. “I already know what to order for you. I got you covered.”

“Last time you said that, I wound up spitting my food back on my plate.”

“I really have it this time. Okay? Just hand me your money and I’ll get everything we need while you find a seat.” I hold my hand out and he still eyes me suspiciously.

Finally, he mutters something under his breath I can’t quite understand, reaches to his back pocket, and plops his wallet in my hand. “At least get me a soda.”

“It’s homemade soda.”

He growls. “Of course it is.” Irritation shows in his shoulders as they are hiked up to his ears when he walks away. I will shock him with how good this food is, I hope.

Zagat said the burger I’m ordering us is in the top nine burgers to try in Chicago, and if that doesn’t mean something, then I don’t know what does.

I order quickly, pay with the cash in Maddox’s wallet—which, wow, why does he have so much cash at one time—and then I grab us each some homemade cola and take our number over to the table Maddox claimed in the back.

I’m sure his image is suffering a little being here. He’s known to be a bit of a tough guy on the field, a man’s man, someone who beats others with his fists if they make the wrong move, and yet, here he is, about to enjoy a vegan meal with me.

Honestly, I see nothing wrong with it, but I could find a fan making fun of him. Whatever, we’re saving the planet for future generations. *Arm pump*

When I reach our table, Maddox is slouched in the booth, one arm draped over the back, the other holding up his chin, his eyes studying my every move.

I toss his wallet on the table in front of him and say, “You carry too much money. You should really keep it to forty dollars.”

He puts his wallet in his back pocket and says, “I make sure I have money to tip people. Being known around the city has made me very conscious of being a cheap ass.”

Leaning forward, I whisper, “You tip people twenties?”

“What am I going to do? Hand them a five? I’m a pro-athlete. People can figure out how much I make with one search on Google. It has to be twenties, and sometimes it’s double.”

“Forty?” I nearly pop out of my seat. Sheesh. Holding out my hand, I say, “Do I get tipped for ordering your food?”

“You get a free place to stay in Chicago.”

“Ugh.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my booth. “How many times are you going to throw that in my face?”

“As many times as I can.”

“Can I at least pay you something?”

He shakes his head. “What the hell am I going to do with your money, Kinsley?” he asks, his tone completely serious. “Right now, I have more money than I know what to do with, and it keeps coming in like clockwork. Sponsors, royalty sales, salary, and then there are all my investments that pay too. I don’t see your two hundred dollars a month for rent.”

I bite my bottom lip, still feeling a little guilty about living for free in his place.

“Anyway, it’s not like you have a proper bedroom. I don’t want you paying rent if you don’t even have a real place to sleep, which reminds me. I’ll be out of town starting tomorrow, so sleep in my bed. I’ll leave some sheets for you to change.”

“Doesn’t your cleaning service do that?”

I shake my head. “No cleaning service. I like my privacy, which means while I’m gone, you’re going to have to clean up your own mess.”

“What does that mean? Are you . . .” I quirk my brow. “Are you implying I’m messy?”

“I’m not implying, I’m saying you’re messy. Just in the last three days I’ve picked up after you all over the place.”

“I barely consider moving a soap bar to the side picking up after me.” He just shakes his head at me. “Anyway, I’m not sleeping in your bed, so don’t worry about the sheets.”