I think you should meet with her. Hear me out.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
I know, I know. But she says she’s got something you’d want to hear.
That’s bullshit. What could she possibly have to say that I’d want to hear?
I agree, but I also know you like to stay out of the media when it’s not hockey or fundraising related, and I wouldn’t put it past her to drag you into something if she wants your attention that badly. So I say we meet her somewhere public, I do the talking, and we give her five minutes, nothing more.
Courtney has embarrassed me enough in the media, but nothing is worse than the hurt it causes, knowing that after all we’ve been through, all the years I gave her, she cares so little for me that she would go to such great lengths to tear me down in whatever way she can. Like all she wants to do is wreck everything I’ve worked so hard for, take away this life I’ve earned.
So I agree to five minutes, not a single second more, this Saturday. I just want this over with.
Tension stacks in my shoulders, so tight it curls me forward. I roll my neck, but the stiffness has already dug its claws in. My fingers move on their own accord, hitting that Video Call button, and my knee bounces as I pray for it to connect.
Rosie’s face fills my computer screen, and I melt into the seat.
“Hey,” she greets me quietly, a spark of hesitance in her eyes. Through all the messages since Bear came out of surgery, we haven’t spoken face to face.
“Sorry for calling so late.”
“It’s okay. I just climbed into bed two minutes ago.” She looks like an angel, lit only by the glow of her phone, pink waves scattered around her face, the sleeve of her oversized sleep tee hanging off one delectable shoulder. “Congrats on your…oh God, this is going to be so embarrassing. I know this is wrong, but I know it’s close. Shut-up?”
I bark a laugh, and she blushes my favorite blush. “Shutout .”
“I told you it was gonna be embarrassing. But it still made sense in my head. You didn’t let in any goals, so it kinda shuts up the other team, you know?”
“I like it. Petition to change it from shutout to shut-up.”
“I know you’re just placating me, Adam Lockwood.”
“And I know I’m in trouble when you or my mom use my full name.” I smile at the way she giggles. “Did you watch?”
She nods, brushing her bangs back. “Both games. Carter Beckett is really fast. And Jaxon likes to fight a lot, which I wasn’t expecting, given that he fell head over heels for a cat at first sight, called him Mittens, and then adopted him.”
“He hides his soft side behind tattoos and punches.”
“And you, you were so…” She blows out a breath, eyes widening. “Big . I didn’t think you could get any bigger, but you really did. And, um…flexible. I mean, I knew you were flexible, of course.” Her eyes widen. “Oh God. That’s…that’s…” She swipes a hand through the air. “Just never mind me.”
Christ, she’s so damn cute, I’d give anything to pull her into my arms right now. “I, uh, called because I…wanted…to…” Tell you I love you and I’ve hated every single minute apart from you? “Thank you. For taking care of Bear.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that, Adam. He makes school better, getting a hug and kiss whenever I want.”
“That’s why he looks so smug in all the pictures you send me, huh?”
“You know I can’t say no to him. Plus, he’s thriving on all the attention. He’s got the girls here wrapped around his paw.” A rustle draws her gaze away from me, and then she dives under the covers with her phone. “Oh shoot. I’m waking Connor. I better get going.”
“I’ll see you in the morning? When I pick up Bear?”
“I’ll be there, Adam. We’re so excited to see you.”
We’re . The single word sends my stupid heart into a tailspin, and I fixate on it for the rest of the flight, and two hours later when I’m lying awake in bed. When I’m walking into the clinic after breakfast the next morning, spinning my keys around my finger and whistling, the six-word sentence is still playing on repeat in my head.
“Mr. Lockwood,” the receptionist greets me. “It’s a beautiful day to bring home a happy, healthy pup.”
“It definitely is.” I slide a box of donuts onto the desk. “These are for everyone.”
“We love donuts. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
A woman walks out from the back a minute later, and she most definitely doesn’t have pink hair. “Come on back with me. I’ll walk you through what to expect from Bear’s recovery at home.”
“Is Rosie here? I brought her breakfast, in case she didn’t eat this morning. She forgets sometimes.”
“Rosie’s working on an emergency that came in about twenty minutes ago. She’ll be sad she missed you, but I can take those for you.” She reaches for the iced latte, the bag with a piping hot bacon, gouda, and egg breakfast sandwich on a croissant, with a warm and gooey ginger molasses cookie.
And what do I do? I pull the items into my chest, because apparently, I’m a child.
“I’ll make sure she gets them, Mr. Lockwood,” the woman assures me. “I promise I won’t eat her breakfast.”
“Oh.” I look down at the food in my hand before slowly handing it over. “Okay. Thank you.”
A gloomy feeling settles low in my stomach. With Bear coming home, Rosie has no reason to check in. As I follow the doctor through the clinic, my brain is already working in overdrive, conjuring up a hundred ways to accidentally bump into her. If I can get my hands on her hat again, she’ll have to see me.
“Rosie came in early this morning to get Bear ready,” the doctor tells me. “She took him for a short walk around campus and said he was very happy to get out in the sun.” She gestures me inside a small examination room, where Bear greets me by hopping up on his hind legs, front paws on my stomach.
“Oh, buddy.” I drop to my knees, letting him lick my face, my hands in his thick, silky fur. Relief expands in my chest, clogging my throat as I hug my dog to my chest. “I love you, Bear,” I murmur against his floppy ear. My hands slide over soft cotton, and I pull back to look at the bandana tied around his neck. “What’s this?”
“Rosie wanted to surprise you. And as you can see, Bear looks very dapper in his new bandana.”
The Vipers logo and my jersey number, forty, cover the blue bandana. But right in the center? A drawing of me and my best, furry bud, the words Daddy’s biggest fan scrawled beneath it.
I should’ve known. If ever there was going to be somebody who would see past it all, the goalie mask, the fears, and the insecurities, I should’ve known it would be Rosie.
It’s always been Rosie.
ROSIE
Think with your brain, not with your tits. Think with your brain, not with your tits.
No matter how many times I repeat the words, all I can see is muscles. Miles of muscles. Intricately carved, golden like honey, moving lithely under a soft, Saturday morning sun in September, ebony curls falling over bright blue eyes. For the best, really, because I know what will happen when I see them.