5. Anthony

Simon:I’ll be there in the morning. We’ll talk then.

Leaning against the kitchen counter and glaring at my phone, I exhaled hard. I’d tried. I’d fucking tried. He was shutting me out, though, and past experience had taught me that there wasn’t much I could do when he was like this.

I scrolled up through the messages we’d exchanged since I’d come home, trying to make sense of it all. Not that I ever had much luck with that.

Anthony: I’m home now. We can still FaceTime at 8 if you want.

Simon: I thought something came up.

Anthony: It did but I got home sooner than I thought I would.

Simon: Ok.

Anthony: So, do you want to FT?

Simon: I made other plans.

Anthony: In an hour?

Simon: I’m sorry, was I supposed to wait until I knew if you were going to find time for me? We’ll talk later.

Anthony: You’re just not usually that spontaneous.

Simon: And you don’t usually blow me off for the FT calls YOU insisted on.

Anthony: I didn’t blow you off. Something came up.

Simon: Of course it did.

Anthony: What do you want me to say? You knew I was taking the boys to the vet.

Simon: Is something wrong with one of the cats?

Anthony: No, they’re fine.

Simon: Then what does that have to do with “something coming up”?

Anthony: The clinic was busy, so the appointment ran late.

That last part wasn’t true, of course, and I felt guilty for the little white lie. I just wasn’t sure how to explain Wyatt to him.

Sometimes I thought Simon was doing this to punish me. Since I’d been the one to suggest we talk regularly even while we lived apart, he’d thrown it in my face any time I wasn’t available.

“If it’s really that important to you,” he’d told me one night, “then you’d make time.”

Except I did make time. I’d only had to bail a handful of times, and I’d always had—I thought—good reasons.

But for as much as this separation was supposed to give us space and a chance for us to fix our relationship, he sure resisted and resented the shit out of everything I suggested to help us. I’d been trying like hell to find every possible way to bridge the gap between us, but he’d either shoot down the idea, blame me for the gap, or both.

It was exhausting.

I wondered if he knew how anxious it made me, knowing we’d be hashing this out in the car in the morning. That it fucked with my sleep and left me wound up and distracted, none of which boded well for practicing or playing well.

If we let the cracks show, we’re both fucked.

Well, it was what it was, at least for tonight. I knew when I was being shut out, and I didn’t feel like trying to fight with him via text. One way or another, we’d discuss this in the car on the way to practice. Couldn’t fucking wait.

Elsewhere in the house, a door opened, and the floor creaked. Wyatt had been to the laundry room once, so he was probably heading back down there.

Except, no—footsteps came up the hall. Nails clicked, so Lily was probably coming too.

I cleared my throat, turned my phone facedown on the counter, and busied myself making a cup of coffee.

A moment later, Wyatt and Lily came into the kitchen. Lily only had her collar on now, and she trotted over to where Bear and Moose’s food dishes had been. Fortunately, I’d predicted that much, and I’d moved their dishes onto one of the islands, which was where both cats were now perched.

Lily found a couple of stray kibbles on the floor, though, and crunched on them.

Wyatt chuckled. “That’s cat food, you know.”

Still chewing, she looked up at him and wagged her tail. He just rolled his eyes and laughed.

And I… caught myself staring at him.

I’d been told sometimes that I cleaned up good, but Wyatt? Wow. And he wasn’t in a suit or a tux—he was just wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of shorts—but he looked damn good now that he’d trimmed his beard. Without the jacket, I had a much better view of broad shoulders and a couple of tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. There was one on his left calf, too. Something military, I thought. Which might’ve also explained why his lower right leg was a prosthetic.

Fortunately, I realized I was staring before he did, and I pulled my gaze away. “Uh, do you want some coffee?” I gestured with my cup.

He blinked. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. Coffee would be great.” Unaware of what he was doing to my balance, he smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And, um… Everything.” He pushed out a breath. “This is the best I’ve felt in ages.”

“Don’t mention it.” I pulled a mug down from the cupboard. “Any preference?” I tipped my head toward the carousel of Keurig cups. “I don’t have anything really fancy, but—”

“It’s hot and it’s coffee. Doesn’t need to be fancy. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

French roast it was, then. After he’d added half a spoonful of sugar, we moved into the living room. He sat on the sofa. I took one of the recliners.

Wyatt cradled the cup between his hands, probably to let it cool. He looked around the room, and when his gaze landed on Lily, that soft smile came back to life. “Too bad they don’t get along, isn’t it?”

The cats had moved onto the cat tree, and Lily wandered up to check it out. Moose was sleeping and didn’t stir. Bear had been bathing, and as the dog approached, he was still sitting back with his rear leg sticking up in the air, but he was paying attention to her now. He watched with wide eyes as she sniffed the edge of his platform. He reached for her with a giant paw, and I cringed a little, afraid he’d scratch her.

Before I could intervene, though, he just gave her floppy ear a gentle bat. Lily shook her head. Bear batted at her ear again. She woofed softly—an obviously playful sound even if her tail hadn’t been wagging—and Bear whapped her on the head. She woofed again, play bowing on the floor and then coming back up to egg him on.

“Yeah,” I said into my coffee. “Too bad they don’t get along.”

Wyatt was watching them and smiling, but the expression was a little sad. “She doesn’t get much social interaction these days.”

“Do service dogs socialize much?”

“They can’t while they’re working, but they need it.” He turned to me. “They’re still social animals, you know? And sometimes I don’t think she knows the difference between cats and dogs, so this”—he indicated his dog with his coffee cup—“is great for her.”

“It’s probably good for them, too.”

“Yeah?”

I sipped my coffee and put the cup down on the end table. “I walk them a lot, so they see dogs all the time. I don’t want them to be too friendly, especially with strange dogs, but it’s good for them to be comfortable around them.”

Wyatt nodded, and the corner of his mouth curled slightly. “So you actually walk them? The leashes aren’t just to take them to the vet?”

“Oh, yeah. They both love being outside. I don’t let them roam outdoors, but I take them hiking, or we walk on some of the local trails.”

“That must turn heads.”

“To say the least.” I chuckled as I watched Bear and Lily playing while Moose scowled down at them. “There was one time I was out with them and my boyfriend, and these two teenagers just went nuts over them. Taking pictures, petting them, the works. And like, the whole time, we were standing there wondering if they realized who we were because one of them was literally wearing Simon’s jersey.”

Wyatt cocked his head. “His jersey? What do you mean?”

“Oh.” My face heated for some reason. “He and I…” I tilted my coffee cup toward the framed photos behind him.

Brow furrowed, he turned around. His spine straightened, and when he faced me again, his eyes were wide. “Wait, you’re a hockey player? Like, a pro?”

I nodded. “Yeah. We both play for the Bobcats.”

“Ooh.” His gaze swept around the room, and I suspected some pieces were clicking together. “Wow. I had kind of guessed you were a tech guy or something.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “Oh God, no. I’m lucky I can work my iPhone.”

Wyatt chuckled. “Yeah, I know how that goes.” His gaze drifted to our pets. Lily was staring out the window, and Bear was trying to bat her ear again. Much to his frustration, though, it was just out of his long reach. In that situation, Moose would’ve figured out that if he got up and moved closer, the problem would be solved. Bear… Well, this was the same cat who’d lost a treat under his own paw earlier this evening, so I wasn’t surprised he couldn’t figure out this puzzle.

Was that really today? It felt like years ago that I’d been in the exam room with Dr. Green, unaware of Wyatt’s existence at all.

Now he was here in my house with his dog. Intellectually, I knew it was a bizarre scenario, and it should’ve been surreal and maybe even unsettling how easily this man had gone from a stranger to a houseguest. But as I sat here drinking coffee with Wyatt while our pets hung out, it made sense. Of course he was here. Of course Bear was trying to get Lily to play with him.

I wasn’t sure if that made sense, but there it was.

Unaware of my thoughts, Wyatt said, “So people really notice your cats but don’t recognize either of you?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Especially if it’s just one of us. If we’re together and someone is familiar with the team, they’ll usually catch on sooner or later.” I shrugged. “If it’s just me, they almost never notice.”

“Which is good, right?” He studied me. “I always hear people who are high-profile are big on privacy and don’t always like being recognized in public.”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it’s fun to meet fans. I’ll never say no to someone who wants a photo or an autograph. It’s great, you know?” I exhaled. “But there are definitely times I just want to walk my cats or buy groceries or something.”

“I bet,” he murmured.

The silence threatened to get uncomfortable, so I gestured at his dog, who was still staring out the window while Bear tried to grab her tail. “So it’s okay for her to interact with other animals and people?”

“Sometimes. There’s a reason her vest says do not pet, because believe me—people try. But she needs downtime and socialization, too.”

I chuckled dryly. “I can relate.”

“Right?” He watched her and Bear, a soft smile on his lips. “She’s never completely ‘off’, though. She’ll wake up out of a dead sleep to alert on me.”

I straightened. “When you’re asleep?” I tried to imagine what kind of health issues required that kind of vigilance even while someone was asleep. And how dangerous that must be for someone in his situation.

Wyatt’s face colored a little, and he avoided my eyes. “She’s, um… She’s a PTSD alert dog. She’ll calm me down if I start having a panic attack or something.” He swallowed. “And part of my PTSD is nightmares. Bad ones.”

“Oh. Wow.” I mentally rewound to this evening at the vet’s office, and the way she’d jumped up and guided him to a chair. It wasn’t a surprise now that I thought about it; he’d been on the verge of tears, pleading with them to help keep his dog safe for the night. In his shoes, I’d have been panicking too. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I managed, “I can’t imagine.”

“It sucks,” he said, his voice hollow. Then he cleared his throat and sat up a little, reaching for his coffee. “Fortunately, she’s very, very good at what she does, even when she’s off duty.”

“How does she know when she’s not on duty?” I paused. “You just take her vest off?”

“Yep. She knows she can chill or play if she’s not wearing her vest. She never goes very far from me, though, and she’ll look over at me a lot. But when we—” He shifted uncomfortably. “Before we found ourselves in the situation we’re in, I would take her over to a local dog trainer’s place just to let her play with other dogs and get some dog time.”

“Not a dog park?”

“No. Because I can’t guarantee the other dogs that are there have been properly socialized. Plus with her being a Doberman, people expect her to be aggressive, so… Anyway, it’s just not a good place for her.”

“Sounds like it’s not a good place for any dogs.”

“Depends on the dog, I guess? Lily’s trainer hates them.” He paused, face falling a little. “And if I took her to one right now, people would immediately assume she’s untrained or she hasn’t had her shots because…” He gestured at himself.

It took a second for the piece to click into place. When it did, my heart sank. “Jesus. Really?”

He looked at me through his lashes. “Would you let a homeless person come up and pet your cats?”

“I…” Oh. Hell. Yeah, maybe he had a point. I was protective of my cats, and before today, if a homeless person had approached and wanted to pet them… Yikes. I cringed at my own response to that.

Before I could speak, though, Wyatt sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s not really a fair question. I gave homeless people a wide berth in my old life too. And I’m absolutely going to prioritize my dog’s safety or someone else’s feelings, even if they aren’t homeless and she isn’t a service dog.” He waved his hand. “So, no. It’s not a fair question, and you don’t have to answer it. But you can probably imagine why dog parks aren’t a good place for us right now.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I get it. And… I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine the shit you’ve had to deal with.”

“It’s rough,” he admitted. He must not have wanted to dwell on that topic, because he cleared his throat and shifted a bit. “Anyway, uh… I should toss my laundry in the dryer. Thanks again for…” He laughed softly and looked right in my eyes. “Everything, honestly.”

“Don’t mention it.” I got up. “And I guess I should be a responsible adult and get some sleep.”

Rising himself, he eyed the cup in my hand. “Right after you had some coffee?”

I chuckled. “Eh, I got in the habit when I had a Swedish roommate. He always drank coffee at night, so I joined in and now, yeah, somehow it doesn’t keep me awake.” Then I frowned. “It’s not going to keep you up all night, is it?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I could probably drink an entire coffeepot at this point and still be asleep the second I hit the pillow.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I headed for the kitchen to rinse out my cup. “I’ll be up around seven to have breakfast. Have to leave for practice at nine.” I was about to add that he was welcome to join me for breakfast, but his face fell.

“Oh. Right. We’ll, um…” He nodded to Lily. “We can be ready to leave by then.”

“No,” I said without really thinking. “You don’t have to leave.”

Wyatt stared at me. “But… I’d be alone in your house.” He gestured at the cat tree. “With your cats.”

“You will, yeah.” I thought fast, trying to find some rational reason why I couldn’t stomach tossing him out. I mean, I couldn’t stomach the idea of throwing a man and his dog out in the cold because that was fucking wrong. But why not take him to a shelter? Why not take him somewhere other than here?

Why do I want you to be here when I get home tomorrow?

That was the part that didn’t make sense, and if I couldn’t articulate it to myself, I sure as hell couldn’t to him.

Then Lily gave me my answer—she started scratching her neck with her back paw, reminding me of the conversation Wyatt had with Dr. Green before leaving the clinic.

Gesturing at the dog, I said, “She’s gotta be on those antibiotics for ten days, right?”

Wyatt’s eyes flicked toward her, and he nodded warily.

“So it would probably be better for her to be…” I gestured at our surroundings.

He chewed his lip. “Probably, yeah. But I don’t want to impose.”

I waved that away. “It’s fine. She’ll be safer here, and so will you. So… don’t sweat it.”

He studied me uncertainly, and I thought for a moment or two that he was going to insist on leaving. But slowly, he deflated, and his voice came out timid as he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

He held my gaze. Then he relaxed a little more, and a disarming smile came to life. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” He motioned toward Lily. “We both do.”

I managed to keep my relief out of my voice as I said, “Don’t worry about it. Oh, and I was mentioning breakfast because I’m happy to make enough for both of us. If you aren’t up by then, and I’m gone when you get up…” I gestured around my kitchen. “Have at it.”

Wyatt blinked. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I’m not going to invite you into my house and not feed you.”

He stared at me, and I caught myself wondering how long he’d actually been homeless. How long did it take before basic human kindness became that much of a novelty? Jesus Christ, that was a horrible thought.

I didn’t ask, though. He looked so tired he was ready to collapse; he didn’t need me interrogating him. And I really did need sleep if I wanted to be functional at practice tomorrow.

“Anyway,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right. See you in the morning.” He called to Lily, who was instantly at his side.

“Hey, boys?” I snapped my fingers twice. “Bedtime!”

Both cats immediately jumped off the cat tree with heavy thumps and galloped past us.

“Wow.” Wyatt watched them thunder toward the stairs. “You’ve got them trained.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “They get treats at bedtime. I assure you, they’re not the ones who are trained.”

He just laughed. We headed down the hall, and at the stairs, I said, “Good night, Wyatt.”

His smile was the most amazing thing I’d seen all day. “Good night. And thanks again.”

Then he was on his way downstairs to the laundry room, Lily’s nails clicking on the steps behind him.

I continued up to my bedroom, where both cats were waiting expectantly on the bed. Bear chirped at me, purring loudly and kneading on the comforter, while Moose just gave me that look that said I’d hand over the treats if I knew what was good for me.

I knew better than to surrender their snacks until I was about to get into bed. If I did it now, then when I got into bed, they’d both try to gaslight me and convince me I’d callously denied them their treats. Well, Moose would. The few minutes it took me to brush my teeth and get undressed may actually have been enough time for Bear to forget.

Once I’d gone through my routine, having cruelly left them to starve for almost five whole minutes, I finally had mercy and gave them their treats. Then I plugged in my phone and climbed into bed. Moose stretched out on the side that had been unoccupied for going on six months. Bear curled up by my feet.

I usually passed out pretty quickly—my sport and my workouts had that effect—but I spent a little while lying there in the dark, thinking about everything that had transpired tonight. I couldn’t explain why I’d taken in Wyatt and Lily instead of just putting them up in a hotel or something. I couldn’t articulate in any rational way why I didn’t worry he’d do something unsavory now that he had access to my house.

I mean, I could believe with my whole heart and head that my cats were safe. Lily clearly wasn’t aggressive, and I didn’t imagine there was any universe in which Wyatt was a threat to an animal. Not after what I’d seen at the clinic. Not after I’d realized he wasn’t just pleading with the clinic to take in his beloved dog to keep her safe—he was signing up for a night without his service dog. If they’d taken her in, he’d have been out there alone, facing the bitter cold and the demons she was there to help him cope with.

So no, I didn’t have any reason to believe he’d ever lay a finger on Moose or Bear.

I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t steal anything, but I didn’t believe he would. If he did… Well, I stood by what I’d said at the clinic. The choice had been to either leave him out there to possibly die in the cold, or risk my property being damaged or stolen. If anything happened to my stuff, that was what insurance was for. At least I wouldn’t be the reason Wyatt or Lily died out there tonight.

And what could I say? I didn’t mind some actual company. I hadn’t been able to have visitors at the house since Simon had left because we didn’t want anyone to know he’d moved out. No hanging out here with my teammates. No friends or family coming to stay. It had just been me, Bear, and Moose in this too-big house.

So, yeah. I was glad he was here. As I slowly started to drift off, I was glad Wyatt had agreed to stay until Lily finished her medication.

She’d be safe. He’d be safe.

And if only for a little while, my cats and I wouldn’t be alone in this house.