17. Anthony

I was on my way through the kitchen to grab sodas for me and Chip, and I paused to check in on Wyatt. At first, I couldn’t find him, which made me nervous. Was he all right? Had the crowd bothered him more than he’d expected?

But then I found him, and I halted, staring out the sliding glass door.

He was sitting on the deck, and so was Young’s wife, Monica.

And Monica… was petting Lily.

My jaw went slack. I wasn’t at all surprised that Lily was being sweet and gentle with her, wagging her tail and panting happily. But everyone knew Monica was terrified of dogs. That she was petting a dog—especially one that was a breed a lot of people were afraid of—blew my mind.

I glanced into the kitchen, where Young was opening himself another beer. “Hey, Young?” I gestured at the slider. “Have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” He stepped out of the kitchen and looked in the direction I’d indicated, and he almost choked on his beer. “Is she…” He blinked. “Is she… petting a dog?”

“Looks like it, yeah.”

He stared for a moment, his eyes huge and his jaw hanging open. I even thought he might’ve been getting a little misty-eyed, but before I could be sure, he opened the slider. Both Wyatt and Monica turned, though Lily stayed focused on Monica.

“Honey, are you petting a dog?” Young sounded absolutely awestruck as he stepped outside.

She actually giggled, tousling Lily’s ears. “Yeah! She’s so sweet!”

“But she’s…” Young shook himself, and he laughed. Not like he was making fun of her, but like he was just so overcome with disbelief at what he was seeing. “How did you even…”

As I joined them on the deck and shut the door behind me, she excitedly explained that she’d asked Wyatt if she could sit near Lily. “Then he asked if I wanted to pet her, and…” She beamed as she scratched behind Lily’s floppy ear. “I feel kind of stupid for being this scared. She’s so gentle.”

Young sat down beside her and kissed her cheek. “You had a bad experience. It’s okay to be scared after that.”

“I know, but she’s… I mean, look at her.”

Young started to reach for Lily but hesitated. “Is it… Can I?”

“Yeah, sure.” Wyatt nodded. “She loves people.”

As Monica and Young petted Lily, Wyatt met my gaze with the softest, most relaxed expression I’d seen since I’d met him. As if right here, right now, with Lily helping someone past her fears and two people fawning over his dog, everything was right in his world.

You should feel like this all the time.

A sudden surge of emotion caught me by surprise, but I tamped it down. This wasn’t the time or place. I didn’t even know why I was reacting so strongly. Maybe because I was wound so tight thanks to all this tension with Simon. Playing happy boyfriends today had me on that hair trigger where a particularly cute TV commercial or a damn romcom could have me in tears, and I was not someone who cried easily.

God, I’m a mess.

And… God, Wyatt really should be this happy and chill all the time.

I quietly cleared my throat as I shifted my gaze to Monica. She seemed so excited, she was almost giggling as she petted Lily. I suspected this wouldn’t be a magic cure-all for her. That fear had kept her wary of dogs all her life, and even a breakthrough like this didn’t necessarily mean she’d be comfortable with all dogs all the time. She might even be hesitant about Lily if they crossed paths again down the line.

I knew someone who’d been terrified to ice skate after taking a bad fall. It had taken him years to try again, and when he finally did, it had been all anyone could do to get him off the ice. He’d been so happy to be on skates again, so relieved and giddy just like Monica was right now. When he’d tried to do it again a week or so later—after all his muscles had forgiven him—he’d been surprised it wasn’t as easy this time. He’d had to mentally work up to it again. It was easier than the years of fear and trying to prepare himself for it, and it certainly didn’t take as long, but it was still a process. If I remembered right, it took a good six months before he could easily pull on some skates and hit the ice without all his fears coming back.

Maybe Monica would have to do the same with dogs. Or maybe this really was the one-time breakthrough she needed. Either way, this had to be a huge, positive step for her, and I hoped it wasn’t the last.

After a while, she pushed out a breath. “Thank you, Lily.” She patted the dog’s neck, then smiled at Wyatt. “And thank you.”

He returned the smile. “Don’t mention it. I’m glad it helped.”

“You bet it did.” Young put a hand on his wife’s back as he extended the other to Wyatt. “I really appreciate this, man.”

Wyatt just smiled and shook his hand.

“We’ve, um… We’ve taken up enough of your time, and she needs to get back to work.” Monica cleared her throat and told her husband, “We should probably check on the girls.”

He nodded, and after they both profusely thanked Wyatt again, Monica and Young disappeared into the house, and I turned to Wyatt. “I thought people weren’t supposed to pet service dogs.”

“They’re not.” He picked up Lily’s vest and started putting it back on her. “But she asked if she could sit near her and try to just be around a dog without freaking out. I offered to let Lily come over to her, and…” He half-shrugged, offering up a sweet smile. “They clicked.”

“And that won’t hurt her training?”

“Well, don’t tell her trainer.”

I put my finger to my lips, and I was rewarded with a laugh that shouldn’t have made my spine tingle like that.

How have I not noticed how fucking gorgeous you are?

Ooh, hell, that is not a train of thought I need to be riding today. Not here.

I quickly abandoned it, and I gestured toward the house. “You coming back in?”

“Yeah.” He got up, and with Lily at his side, we headed into the house.

As soon as we got inside, there was a loud crack of a puck hitting the garage wall, followed immediately by a jingle of dog tags.

I looked over my shoulder to see Wyatt petting Lily’s head, his easygoing expression replaced by wariness not unlike what I’d have expected to see from Monica around Lily. Alarm shot through me. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—”

Another puck hit the wall, and the guys in the other room laughed uproariously.

Wyatt swallowed. Then he shook himself and breathed the ghost of a laugh as some color rose in his face. “I know what it is. I’m not, like, scared of it. But sudden noises…”

“Oh. Shit.”

He chewed his lip. “It, um… It might be easier if I’m in the same room. If I can see what it is, you know?” The red in his cheeks deepened. “I mean, I know what it is. But if I can see it…”

“Sure.” I motioned for him to follow me. He did, and I led him into the garage. Several of my teammates sat and stood around, sodas and beers in hand as they heckled Chip, who was lining up a shot at the net. I called out, “Oh, now I see why we kept hearing them hit the wall. Chip’s shooting.”

“Fuck you, Aussie,” Chip said over his shoulder and the roar of laughter and chirping.

Simon was against the far wall, leaning on his stick, and he glanced my way. Then his gaze darted past me, and his expression faltered, lips tightening and eyes narrowing slightly. With what I thought was a sharp sigh, he reached for his beer and took a deep swallow.

I gritted my teeth. Whatever his issue was with Wyatt, he needed to get the hell over it, because it was seriously getting old.

We stood and watched for a few minutes as some of the guys took their shots. I eventually ended up with a stick in my hand, and I was pleased that three of my four pucks went in. That second one would’ve gone in, too, if D’Angelo hadn’t tickled my inner thigh with his stick at just the right moment.

“Watch it, fucker.” I pointed my stick at him. “I swear to God, I’ll do that when you’re on the faceoff dot.”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do it in the locker room for two years,” he threw back. “No one picks up on subtle flirting anymore.”

“Ooh, right.” I gave an exaggerated nod. “I forgot straight guys don’t know how to flirt.”

“Pfft. Whatever. You gonna hit that puck or not?”

I did, and after it went in, I looked at Wyatt, who’d been quietly watching with an amused grin. I raised my eyebrows. “You want to give it a try?”

Wyatt eyed the stick in my hand, but then he shrugged. “You’ll have to show me how.”

“Sure. Are you right- or left-handed?”

“Left.”

I hesitated. “Hmm.” I looked around. “Hey, Harju? Can I borrow your stick?”

“We’ve been through this, Aussie,” he deadpanned. “I don’t swing that way.”

“I don’t swing your way either. I meant your hockey stick.”

“What do you mean, you don’t swing his way?” Chip smacked me with his own stick. “You’re into dudes, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I nodded sharply. “Hot dudes.”

The laughter that rose was almost deafening. Hell, even Simon joined in. Harju scowled. “Oh, fuck you!” But he did hand me his stick.

When I turned to Wyatt, I almost dropped the stick in question. Fuck. When had his smile started making me trip over my own feet?

I recovered, though, and quickly enough that I didn’t think anyone—including Wyatt and hopefully Simon—noticed. I gave Wyatt a quick lesson in holding a hockey stick and shooting with it. Of course, the peanut gallery had to offer their advice and override everything I said.

“Out of the way, Aussie.” D’Angelo smacked me in the chest. “Don’t let a defenseman do a forward’s job.”

I huffed. “Your mom didn’t mind letting a defenseman tap in.”

That got me a stick across the shins, which I richly deserved. D’Angelo was laughing, though; we all knew where the lines were with the shit-talking.

D’Angelo helped Wyatt figure out how to maneuver the stick, and then he dropped a puck on the floor for him. Wyatt glanced down at Lily, probably to make sure he knew exactly where she was and didn’t hit her. Then he took the shot. It hit the wall, which everyone probably expected. He jumped a little, but not like he had out in the living room.

His second shot went straight into the goal, and he beamed. “Oh, hey. This is easy. Why the hell do you guys get paid so much for it?”

“Put on some skates and let one of us body slam you,” Chip suggested. “Then we’ll see who’s talking a big game.”

Wyatt pursed his lips and shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds kinda hot to me.”

All the guys laughed so loud, I didn’t even hear Chip’s retort. I wasn’t sure I’d have understood it anyway, because it was in that moment, watching Wyatt bantering with my teammates as he lined up another puck, that I recognized this off-balance feeling.

Am I…

Am I attracted to you?

Right then, Wyatt burst out laughing at something D’Angelo said, and… Oh, fuck me. This was definitely attraction.

I had no idea what to think about that. Or what to do with it. Was I losing my mind? Yeah, probably. That had definitely become a familiar feeling over the past year, so why the fuck not?

I caught Simon’s eye, and my stomach tightened into a painful ball. A pang of guilt hit me hard, which didn’t make sense since he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. What did I have to feel guilty about? But there was also that aw fuck, I’m gonna hear about this later dread that made me want to groan.

I pulled my gaze away from my ex and watched Wyatt. He picked just that moment to glance at me and smile, and this whole bullshit pile of emotions intensified.

Maybe the alien feeling when I looked at Wyatt wasn’t really attraction after all. Anyone was attractive when the alternative was icy glares and teeth-gnashing.

Whatever it was, it was better than everything that churned up in me whenever I locked eyes with Simon, so I went with it. Hell, I basked in it.

I had to keep up appearances, though, and that was harder than usual. Last year, Simon and I were barely speaking on the way to Thanksgiving because of a fight we’d had the night before. I’d had to make a conscious effort to put on the happy boyfriend face, and Simon had clearly done the same thing. We’d both been exhausted by the time we’d left.

Today, the sight of Simon didn’t have my temper on a knife’s edge like it had last year. In fact, whenever I looked at him, I just felt… nothing. Well, nothing except guilt over all the things I suddenly did feel for Wyatt.

Ugh, this was messy. And it sucked. Was it time to get out of here and go home to my cats and my peace?

No, it wasn’t. We hadn’t even had dinner yet. Fuck my life.

The most exhausting part was measuring how much time and attention I gave each of the two men who’d come with me. I couldn’t let anyone catch on that things were rocky with Simon, but I also didn’t want to overdo it and make people suspicious. I couldn’t be so focused on Wyatt that people started whispering behind their hands, but I also didn’t want to leave him to the wolves when he was around new people. That was especially true now that I knew crowds were an issue for him. The house wasn’t densely packed, but I didn’t know him well enough to know his limits. Trying to get a bead on him while at the same time convincing everyone I was still Simon’s boyfriend was seriously draining.

I had a moment’s reprieve when Simon left the garage to get another drink, but that didn’t last long. When he came back, he pulled me aside. “Hey, can you give me a hand with something?”

It took a lot more work than it should have to keep the “oh for fuck’s sake, what now?” off my face.

But… keeping up appearances.

I nodded, then turned and touched Wyatt’s shoulder. “I’m just stepping out for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He glanced at me and smiled. “No problem.”

Why can’t I just stay in here with you?

And why do I want to so bad?

Oh, right—because I don’t want to go anywhere with him.

I had to, though, and as soon as Simon and I were alone in the hallway, I asked, “What do you need?”

“They’re getting low on soda,” he said flatly and without looking at me.

Yeah, fine, and we’d left a few cases in the trunk to save space in Russell’s kitchen, but I doubted that was the reason he’d asked me specifically to come out here. In our better days, if I was chatting with someone when he needed something out of the car, he’d have just borrowed my keys and that would’ve been the end of it. Taking me with him this time felt like an excuse to get away from everyone so we could have a sidebar.

Sure enough, as soon as I’d opened the hatch on the Land Rover, Simon turned to me. “What the fuck is going on with you and Wyatt?”

I blinked. “Um. What?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Anthony.” He gestured sharply toward the house. “You’re obviously fucking him. I can see what’s—”

“I am not fucking him!” I snapped. “Jesus, Simon. There is nothing going on with him.” That part felt like a lie even though it wasn’t. Was Wyatt attractive? Absolutely, but I hadn’t laid a hand on him or even pursued anything with him. He hadn’t made any moves on me. The only things “going on” with him existed solely in my head. And, it turned out, my ex-boyfriend’s head. I managed to hold Simon’s gaze as I said, “There hasn’t been from the start, and even if there was, what difference does it make?” It was a struggle, but I kept my voice low so no eavesdroppers would catch it. “You dumped me, Simon. You wanted this to be over.” I spread my arms. “Am I not allowed to move on?”

He worked his jaw. “You moved him in before we broke up.”

“And I wasn’t involved with him then, just like I’m not involved with him now.”

“Then why the fuck is he still living in our house?” Simon snapped. “And why the fuck is he here?”

“Because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now,” I hissed. “I’m not going to ditch someone on a holiday just because you’ve got a throbbing jealous bone.”

“Someone you moved into our house without explaining what the fuck is—”

“I’ve explained it a hundred times!” I threw up my hands. “What do you want me to do? Provide notarized documentation or something?” I flailed sharply toward the house. “What do you want me to do, Simon? Wyatt needed a place to go. We have three unoccupied bedrooms.” I folded my arms and cocked my head. “Or should I have just told him, sorry, you’re stuck up Shit Creek because my boyfriend is too insecure for me to help you?”

Simon glared at me for a long moment. Then he swore under his breath, snatched up two cases of Coke, and stalked off.

I exhaled, picked up the other two cases—one Sprite, one Dr Pepper—and pushed the button to shut the hatch. Then I followed Simon up the driveway toward the house.

Admittedly, I felt guilty. As if I should’ve done more to soothe his feelings. And like I was the worst boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—in the world for indulging in any attraction at all toward Wyatt. It felt wrong to be into the guy Simon was accusing me of being into.

It also felt wrong to be like this with Simon. Sniping. Arguing. Everything we’d been in the beginning was such a distant memory, it didn’t feel real anymore. It didn’t make sense alongside this new reality where we couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

Wyatt had said something yesterday about the breakup possibly being the best thing for us. I still thought he was right, but I didn’t think we were going to be as friendly as his brother and ex-wife apparently were. Not without some divine intervention.

God. What happened to us?

And how the fuck was I going to stay sane, pretending we were still okay—still happily together—for the rest of the season?

I suppressed a groan. The soda cases I was carrying suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and the thought of socializing with even one more person today made me want to lie down and pass out.

But we had to keep up appearances. The whole team was here. No one could know Simon and I had even had a normal argument like normal couples did. They sure as shit couldn’t know we’d broken up.

So I adjusted my grip on the soda cases, plastered on an everything-is-okay-face, and continued into the house.

When everyone satdown for dinner, there really was no escape. Simon and I were expected to be joined at the hip for sit-down meals, and I couldn’t exactly have Wyatt sit elsewhere. So as we all sat down at one of two huge tables, I was sandwiched uncomfortably between Simon and Wyatt.

On the bright side, at least that meant I was a buffer between Lily and Simon. He would never be mean to an animal, but if she bumped him or something, he’d undoubtedly get annoyed at the reminder of her handler’s existence. As it was, she lay beneath Wyatt’s chair and partway under mine, her back against my foot. Just like when we’d had lunch at that café yesterday, I was relieved she was touching me. That way I didn’t forget she was there and accidentally kick her or scoot my chair into her.

As everyone dug in, Wyatt pulled a small piece of turkey off his plate and reached under his chair to offer it to Lily.

Across from us, Chip huffed and gestured at Wyatt as he said to his wife, “See? He feeds his dog at the table?”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “Yes, but she’s a working dog who deserves a reward.”

Chip scoffed. “Barney deserves to be rewarded.”

“Not with my mother’s chicken parmesan.”

“No one deserves to be rewarded with that,” Chip muttered, jabbing at some stuffing on his plate.

Kelsey just elbowed him again and continued eating.

Chip looked at me. “What do your house lions think of the dog? Or do they just roar and terrify her?”

I laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re not still afraid of them, are you?”

“They’re just kitties,” Kelsey said with a smirk.

“The hell they are.” Chip pointed at me and Simon with his fork. “Kitties don’t make that much noise when they run through the house.”

“Clearly you haven’t heard our Oriental Shorthairs,” Wilkinson chimed in. “They’re only like eight pounds, but they sound like a herd of horses.” He flashed Chip a toothy grin. “But you’re scared of them, too, so…”

“Oh, fuck you, Wilks.” Chip tossed a pea at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “I’m not scared of cats. I just can’t imagine sleeping in a house with animals that could smother me during the night.”

Kelsey guffawed. “We have two Great Danes!”

“But dogs aren’t evil like cats are!”

“What?” I scoffed. “They’re not evil. They just sense fear and exploit it to troll you.”

“See?” Chip waved a hand. “Evil!”

“Are they actually evil, though, Aussie?” Wilks stroked his chin. “Because I feel like we could turn them loose in the visitor locker room to fuck with the other teams’ heads before a game.”

“They wouldn’t do anything, though,” I said. “They might run off with someone’s jock strap or tear up a jersey, but they’re not going to attack anyone.”

“And your concentration wouldn’t be fucked up before a game if some oversized mutant cat came in and stole your jock?” Wilks picked up his beer bottle. “Could be a great psyop.”

“Ooh,” Young said. “Do you think we can train them to use goalie pads for scratching posts?”

“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “If Beaus wants to donate a set so I can—”

“What am I donating?” Beaus called from a few seats over.

I leaned past Wyatt to meet our goalie’s gaze. “Can I borrow a set of your pads to train my cats to use them as scratching posts?”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then he rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Aussie.”

I snickered. “Way to be a team player, Beaus!”

The response to that was a middle finger.

Kelsey sighed with exasperation and looked across the table at Wyatt. “See, this is why we have a kids’ table. It’s not so we get a break from the kids—it’s so no one’s a bad influence on them.”

Immediately, we were all protesting loudly and insisting we were innocent. That we would never be bad influences on the kids. Filthy lies! Pure slander!

“Uh-huh.” Monica tilted her glass toward Simon. “So we all just imagined you teaching them all how to curse in French?”

“I beg your pardon?” Simon put a hand to his chest. “I didn’t teach them how to curse in French. I told them that if they were going to curse in French, they needed to pronounce it right.”

That got some groans from the wives and chuckles from the husbands. I even managed a laugh myself. It was a callback to happier times with the man beside me.

“You’ve almost got it,”he’d said to four of the kids, who were all probably eight or ten. “Tabarnak. Tabarnak. Tab—there you go! You’ve got it!”

“Oh my God, Cars.”Haylie, whose husband had since been traded out of Seattle, crossed her arms. “Are you teaching them to cuss?”

“What?”He’d shown his palms. “It isn’t like I taught them to say ‘sacrament’!”

In an instant, all the kids had started trying to mimic his pronunciation of the word, and the collective facepalm among the parents had had me howling with laughter.

The memory was bittersweet now. A glimpse of the playful, fun-loving man I’d fallen for back then.

Unaware of me stumbling down Memory Lane, Simon gestured at Chip. “Hey, at least I’m not the one who taught them to chant, ‘Refs, you suck,’ at games!”

“Oh come on.” Chip stabbed a piece of turkey with his fork. “The refs did suck that season, and they needed to know it!”

Much like back when Simon had been teaching the kids the finer points of Quebecois profanity, there was a facepalm among the adults. The moms, at least.

Beside me, Wyatt was chuckling, and when I glanced at him…

Whatever I’d meant to say died away.

That smile. That mischievous sparkle in his gorgeous hazel eyes. Whoa.

He nudged me with his elbow. “So what about you? Have you contributed to the collective delinquency of the team’s kids?”

Before I could even try to defend myself, Kelsey, Monica, Chip, and Wilks started talking over each other to regale Wyatt with tales of me being a bad influence.

I exhaled, letting my shoulders fall. “I hate you guys.”

“No you don’t.” Monica grinned. “You love us.”

I flipped her off, which had everyone laughing.

Including Simon, though when I glanced at him, his amusement was obviously—at least to me—forced.

My own amusement fell away, and I focused on eating my dinner. Christ, this was exhausting. I missed being relaxed around him. I missed being me around him.

I missed when being me was enough to make him happy.

Ugh. Is it time to go home yet?