‘About how the reason you got yourself a problem is because you spent your whole life learning how to run from pain. Look at this place – it’s comfortable and safe. Nothing to chance. That’s why you went for the pills. They keep you comfortable and safe too, right?’

‘You don’t know the first thing about me, lady.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘My name is Shelley and that’s how you’ll address me. Anything other than that and you might as well watch me walk out that door.’

The two of them locked gazes until finally, Ward slowly nodded.

‘I need your help so I’d rather you stayed.’

‘Good. Johnny also told me you were smart. Looks like he was right about that too.’

Later that day, Ward crouched to his knees outside the open door.

‘Hey, I get it, OK?’ he coaxed softly. ‘I know that you’re scared right now. You’re in a new place and you don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on. Well, I can tell you this much – you’re safe here. You got yourself a new home. Just come out when you feel like it. No pressure.’

Moving slowly, he placed an open can of tuna on the ground and stepped backwards. A pair of watchful eyes flickered back and forth between him and the tuna, and then the cat hissed and he chuckled.

‘Yeah, I hear ya. You don’t know me, so why the hell should you trust me? I get it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that there’s no one out there you should trust, really. Everyone’s out for themselves and that’s pretty much the way it’s always going to be.’

Ward thought about Hannah again, but for some reason, the image rehab thing didn’t get him as riled up. At first, he’d resisted the idea of having a PR lackey handle him, especially this one.

But following the exchange about the ill-fated feline at the shelter that day, she had maybe gotten the point and stopped trying so hard to curate this fake image of him to sell to the public.

Or just given up probably.

Now, that same calico-patterned cat tentatively stuck her head out from the carrier and sniffed the air in his apartment. He pulled out a pouch of wet cat food from his pocket and opened it, setting it down near the tuna. She sniffed again and inched closer to the food but still seemed wary.

Ward continued to speak softly to her, reassuring her that she was safe. ‘It’s OK, girl, I’ve got you.’

After a few minutes more, the animal finally mustered up the courage to come out and cautiously approached the food. She ate hungrily, her eyes still darting back and forth between Ward and her meal.

Progress . . .