20. Wyatt

I couldn’t remember if Anthony had practice today or not, so I just made sure I was up early enough to make breakfast either way. That had become somewhat of a routine since I’d started staying here; it wasn’t much, but it was something I could actually do for him that he seemed to enjoy. He’d even picked up more cumin the other day since I was going through it quickly thanks to the way I made eggs. There was nothing I could ever do to make up for him letting me stay here, but he always seemed happy after he’d eaten my cooking.

Well, right up until Simon showed up, but maybe we’d get lucky this morning and he’d… I don’t know, get a flat tire or some shit. I didn’t want to wish actual bad things on him, but was a hangover or an urgent need for Pepto Bismol too much to ask?

Just give Anthony a break today. Jesus Christ.

The eggs were almost ready when Anthony came shuffling into the kitchen. He looked like he’d had a rough night, too. I didn’t ask. I probably didn’t look much better. In fact, I knew I didn’t. My warzone demons had come to visit last night, and even with Lily’s quick intervention, nightmares still took a lot out of me. I hadn’t been at all surprised to see dark circles in my bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror.

“Morning.” I took a couple of plates down from the cabinet. “Do you have to be at practice?”

Anthony shook his head. “Thank God, no.” He made a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Morning skate and a game tomorrow, but Coach had mercy on us today.” He glanced at the pan and grinned. “I won’t say no to those eggs, though.”

“Figured you wouldn’t.”

We set up our breakfast on the kitchen island and took our seats in the barstools. As we started eating, I asked, “So what exactly do you do on a day off?”

“As little as possible,” he said around a bite of bacon. Then he twisted around to look out the window. “I was thinking I’d take the cats out for a walk.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and bit off some more bacon. “I’ve been busy as hell and the weather has been shitty, but it’s supposed to be nice today. I might as well take advantage of it and get them some fresh air.” He met my gaze, his expression a little… shy? “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Oh. Uh. Sure! Yeah, that sounds fun!” I gestured at the cats, who were currently lounging on their perch by the window. “Can you handle both of them at the same time? Because I don’t know if I can wrangle Lily and a cat.”

Anthony chuckled as he loaded some eggs onto his fork. “I walk them by myself all the time. Bear will get all of us tangled up in his leash, but Moose is easy, so I manage.”

“Why am I not surprised he gets tangled up?” I glanced at Bear. “He just seems like furry chaos.”

Anthony almost choked on his eggs. “You’re not wrong. And he’s mellowed since he was a kitten, so…”

“Oh my God. Tell me you have videos.”

“Hundreds of them.”

“I want to see them. All of them.”

“Deal.” He pointed his fork at Lily, who was dutifully sitting beside me. “Does she like going out for walks like that? I mean, it doesn’t distract her or anything?”

“Nah. She stays pretty focused on me. And even when she’s working, it’s still good for her to get out and move.” She’d been enjoying the hell out of Anthony’s yard, but a little change of scenery and some exercise would do her some good. Not that she’d been lacking in exercise—when she and Bear got the zoomies, it was a sight to behold.

“What about—” Anthony hesitated, cheeks coloring a little. “I usually take them along the Slough and then the Burke-Gilman Trail. It’s… I mean, it’s a long hike.” He swallowed. “Is that okay for you?”

I didn’t need to be psychic to know why he was asking. And I appreciated the consideration, because some people definitely forgot that, hello, even with a good working prosthetic, an amputation was still a disability.

“I’ll be fine.” I poked at my eggs. “Just, um… Might need to stop and sit now and then, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is.” He relaxed a bit. “Any time you want to stop, say so. Because I’ll get in a groove and just…” He gestured like something flying away.

I chuckled. “I’ll let you know.”

After breakfast,we trooped out to the garage with my dog and his cats, and we arranged everyone in the back of the Land Rover. Once they were all clipped in, the animals looked like three kids sitting across the backseat. Moose was eyeballing Lily as if to demand an explanation about why she was in his car. Lily was staring at us like, “Dad, I’m stuck between two kitties—what do I do?” And Bear…

“What is he attacking?” I tried to twist around, but he was behind my seat.

Anthony turned around, and he laughed. “There’s a shadow on the seat from the trees outside, and it’s moving.”

I snorted. “Oh my God. He really is—”

We both froze.

We’d started to face forward again, but we’d paused mid-turn, and we were suddenly really close.

Oh, fuck me. Those eyes were gorgeous from far away. From this close up? Wow. And those beautiful full lips were impossible to ignore.

By some miracle, I stopped myself from licking my own lips. I could only imagine how awkward that would make this.

Fortunately, before I could find a way to ruin the moment, Anthony broke the standoff, returning fully to the driver seat and starting the engine. “So. Uh.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking we could start in Redmond on the Slough, and just go from there?”

“Sure. Yeah. That’ll…” I went to put on my seat belt, but realized I’d already buckled it. “Sounds good.”

I pretended not to notice the blush on his cheeks. I hoped he didn’t notice the one I could feel burning on mine. What the hell was that all about?

Well, best thing to do about it—ignore the ever-loving fuck out of it and focus on something else.

I drummed my fingers on the armrest. “So, where all do you take them? Like, just to parks and trails, or do you take them hiking?”

“Oh, we hike.” He glanced in the rearview, probably stealing a look at his boys. “It can be a little tricky when we go up into the mountains or something, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mostly because Moose wants to go, go, go, and Bear wants to inspect or attack everything that moves.”

I laughed. “So it’s like having one person who wants to get to the destination, and someone else who has to take an artsy photo every three feet?”

“Yes. Exactly. So half the time, we end up splitting up. Whoever’s walking Moose goes on ahead, and whoever has Bear gets to patiently take the slow, scenic route.”

“That… actually sounds really cute.”

Anthony smiled, unaware of how cute that was. “It’s hilarious. And I mean, that has to be a pretty fun way to go through life, you know? Being absolutely fascinated and entertained by everything? Including the pine cone you think you just discovered because you’ve completely forgotten you were playing with it ten minutes ago?”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. He never gets bored.”

“Thank God for that. Moose is enough of a little shit when he’s bored. I don’t need Bear going there, too.”

“What?” I glanced over my shoulder at the cats. Moose was chilling, eyes half-closed and paws curled over the edge of the seat. “He doesn’t seem like much of a troublemaker.”

“Trust me—he is. He’ll just randomly decide he wants to open a cabinet and pull everything out. That’s why I have childproof latches in the kitchen and bathrooms.”

I snorted. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh. Otherwise I’ll come in and find the contents all over the floor and his smug ass curled up in the empty cabinet.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “There’s never a dull moment with a Maine Coon in the house.”

“Says the man who got two of them.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged innocently and glanced at me. “I didn’t want them to be lonely.”

“So now you have two house lions with a thirst for destruction.” I gave him a thumbs-up. “Well done!”

He just laughed.

And I just kept wondering how I was going to keep my sanity around someone who was that hot and this adorable.

We gotout in a gravel parking lot beside the Slough in Redmond. Anthony double-checked the boys’ leashes, and he took both cats while I walked Lily.

From the lot, there was a short dirt path that led to the grass-lined multi-use trail winding along the Slough, which was a somewhat narrow and lazily flowing section of the Sammamish River. There were a few cyclists out today, not to mention people walking or running, but it wasn’t packed. This was, after all, late November, so while it wasn’t unpleasant, it was chilly enough to warrant jackets.

It’s going to be cold as balls after the sun goes down.

I shivered, nestling my face into the collar of my parka. Even though I’d be sleeping in a warm bed tonight, that habitual dread still set in as if I were facing down a bitterly cold night on the street. Plus my situation with Anthony was temporary, so while I wouldn’t be spending this night out in the cold, that day was coming.

I tamped that thought down. No point in being miserable about something that hadn’t happened yet. I was going to enjoy the good—the fucking amazing—for as long as I had it.

As we walked, I looked down at Lily to make sure she wasn’t cold. She was panting happily and wagging her tail, and she didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable. I’d packed a T-shirt and a small blanket into a backpack I’d borrowed from Anthony; if Lily got cold, the T-shirt would help, and if we stopped to eat or something, she could wrap up in the blanket if she wanted to.

So far, though, she seemed just fine.

Unsurprisingly, whenever we encountered people, the cats stole the show. Most people barely noticed Lily and me at all, or even Anthony. They were way too busy fawning over the pair of enormous cats on leashes. Kids especially marveled at cats that size, and their jaws dropped when Anthony held up treats to get the cats to stand on their hind legs. It was definitely impressive, especially Moose—who the hell designed cats to be that big?

Every time we stopped to let people photograph and pet the cats, though, I found myself cringing inwardly. Most people didn’t pay any mind to anyone other than the cats, but I kept bracing for someone to try to touch Lily. I would never in a million years have had her ears cropped or her tail docked, but admittedly, there were moments when I almost wished she had that stereotypical Doberman look. That was usually enough to get people keep their distance. A gentle-looking dog with floppy ears and a wagging tail just wasn’t intimidating.

And sure enough, as a couple of little kids were petting Moose and Bear, one of them noticed Lily. Her eyes lit up as she asked me, “Can I pet your dog?”

At least she knew to ask instead of just putting her hands on Lily. Still, I smiled as I shook my head. “Sorry, no. She’s a service dog. She’s working.”

The girl’s face fell.

Her mother glared at me. “Just let her pet the dog.”

“No,” I said, firmly but not rudely. “She can’t do her job if she’s distracted.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Cassidy, go ahead and pet the—”

“Absolutely not,” I growled. I looked down. “Lily, watch my six.” She immediately stepped between my legs, facing away from me. I didn’t actually need her to stand guard right then, but it helped me create a physical barrier to protect her. With Lily safely in position, I met the woman’s gaze. “The answer is no.”

“Ugh. If you take an animal out in public, children are going to want to pet it. That’s just how society is.”

“And if you take a child out in public,” I threw back, “they’re going to hear ‘no’ now and then. That’s just how society is.”

Her face started to turn red. Then she grabbed her daughter’s arm, muttered a colorful name in my direction, and stalked away as her daughter said, “But Mom, I want to pet the dog!”

I felt bad for the kid. I really did. Most kids were pretty good about understanding if I said no, but when their parents told them they could and then I said they couldn’t, that confused and frustrated them.

Beside me, Anthony watched them go, a puzzled expression on his face. I cringed inwardly, sure he was going to chastise me for not just letting the little girl pet Lily. When he turned to me, though, he said, “Are people always that pushy?”

I sighed with both frustration and relief. “Not always, but more often than you might think.”

“Jesus.” He shook his head. “I think I’d blow a damn gasket.”

“Eh. If I do, then it just gives service dog handlers a bad name. Can’t really win.”

“That’s some bullshit,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it.” I looked at my dog. “Lily. Stand down.” She came out from between my legs, dropped onto her haunches, and looked up at me, tail wagging. I leaned down to pat her neck. “Good girl.”

We started walking again, and as we did, Anthony said, “Out of curiosity, what’s the ‘watch my six’ thing?”

“One of my triggers is activity behind me. Like if I’m in a restaurant, I have to sit with my back against a wall. And if I’m in a crowded place, I can get panicky if someone comes up behind me or there’s a sudden noise or something.” I gestured at Lily. “So when I give her that command, she keeps an eye on everything behind me. She’ll let me know if there’s someone coming or if there’s a threat.”

“Oh. Interesting.” He chuckled softly. “It seriously blows my mind, the things they can be trained to do.”

“I know, right? I was really skeptical that she’d be able to tell when I was about to have a panic attack or a flashback or something. Like, once they really get going, there’s only so much anyone can do, myself included. But I figured, hey, it can’t hurt, right?” I smiled, glancing at Lily. “I can’t tell you how many times she’s alerted early enough that I managed to calm down before the flashback or the panic actually set in.”

“Wow.” He paused. “Is that—she did that in the vet clinic, didn’t she? The night we met?”

Some heat rose in my face, and I nodded. “Yeah. I, um… I kind of started freaking out, thinking they wouldn’t be able to help me, and she alerted. Settled me down pretty fast, too.”

Shame wound behind my ribs. I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but no one came out of the military without some of that toxic, bottle-it-all-up bullshit beaten into them. I always expected people to say I was weak or soft because I couldn’t function like a normal human being after experiencing things most people couldn’t imagine. I always expected the playful punch to the shoulder and, “Dude, you need to toughen up.”

But Anthony just nodded and said, “That’s good. That she recognizes it and keeps you calm, I mean.”

I met his gaze, my face still burning. “Yeah. It is. Honestly, I don’t know how I’d get through the day without her.” I patted her neck, smiling despite that habitual shame. “Even after seeing her in action, it’s still crazy what they can do. Like, her trainer was also working with a dog who alerts for seizures. That just blows my mind.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “She explained how it works, or at least how they think it works—like how the dogs can pick up that someone’s about to have a seizure—and it’s just…” I whistled, shaking my head. “It crazy.”

“Sounds like a game changer, though. For a person with seizures or someone with…” He gestured at me.

“It really is. She made such a huge difference for me, even while we were still getting the hang of each other.” I tousled Lily’s ears and smiled down at her. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

She looked up at me, happy and content as if everything in her world was perfect. Right now, it probably was.

God, I wish I could tell you it’s going to stay this way.

I shut off that train of thought in a hurry, and I cleared my throat as I gestured down the trail. “Keep walking?” I motioned toward Bear, who was getting ready to pounce on Moose’s twitching tail. “Maybe before they get bored?”

Anthony laughed, making the whole day a few degrees warmer. “Yeah, we should keep moving.” He tugged the leashes. “C’mon, boys. Let’s go.”

The cats continued their stroll along the trail, and the two of us followed with Lily between us. Our conversation wound to lighter topics, but my mind kept tugging me back to that brief exchange about Lily. He never seemed to bat an eye at any of the reasons I needed her or any of the things she did for me. He never gave any indication he thought I was weak or that I should be able to function without her.

And honestly, I wasn’t surprised by that. At every turn, Anthony was nothing but kind and understanding. About Lily. About our situation. About everything. More than most people I’d encountered since my disabilities and my living situation had knocked me on my ass, he’d been curious like someone who wanted to understand, not gawk. When we weren’t talking about those tender subjects, he didn’t handle me with kid gloves or talk down to me. He shot the shit with me the same way he did with his teammates. He interacted with me like I was a real, normal person. That shouldn’t have been a novelty, but in my shoes, it definitely was.

At the end of the day, I’d have been grateful to anyone who’d scraped Lily and me up that night at the vet clinic, but I couldn’t lie:

I would never stop thanking any deity who’d listen that the person who’d saved us was Anthony.