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There are still tears of laughter at the corners of my eyes when I try to focus my attention back on the essay I’m banging out.
Salsa purrs as she hops up onto my lap from the floor. Today Cindy’s trying out what she hopes will be an annual tradition she’s calling Bring Your Cat to Coffee Day. She’s invited the coffee shop customers to bring their cats, turning Last Word into a one-day cat café.
There are adorable cats all over the place, with tons of people here just to look and take pictures. Salsa hasn’t had a lot of experience interacting with other cats, but she’s been a sweetheart so far. Still, with the way she’s curling in my lap, I think she’s had her fill of cat socialization.
“Oh my, how adorable!” The boisterous voice of Cindy exclaims as she passes by the most gorgeous orange Tabby cat. She’s whistling an upbeat tune when she passes our table and notices us. “Oh, hello, dears! How is Emma treating you?”
“Great!” Summer answers, before wiggling her eyebrows and following up, “And what’s treating you so well to have you in such a mood? You’re glowing.”
Cindy blushes a bit, not a common response from a woman who hardly knows the definition of bashful. “Oh, me? Glowing?”
“I take it things are going well with that lawyer?” Summer says, suggestively.
But that just has Cindy’s brow scrunching. “Lawyer? Oh, you mean Ed?” she says his name dismissively, like she’s swatting a gnat from in front of her face. “Oh, I’m not seeing Ed anymore.”
Then I remember Tuck mentioning the conversation he and Hudson had with Kazu at his restaurant some time ago. “I wonder if someone gave you a particularly good book lately that has you in a good mood,” I say, slyly.
That color spreads through her cheeks again. “Could be,” she chirps in a coy voice before continuing to stroll around, doting on the cats.
My phone pings, and I see that I have an Instagram notification. A knot of tension swells in my throat.
The other day, Ryan tried to contact me again on a different Instagram account. He made a burner just to get around me blocking him, which is creepy and off-putting.
Not only that, but he even left a comment on one of my posts, the first picture I put up with me and Tuck.
It was nothing but a rolling-eyes emoji. This was the day after I blocked the account he tried to use to message me a second time. Tuck noticed and asked who the weirdo leaving a rude emoji on our picture was. I just shrugged and told him I had no idea.
The last thing I need is for Tuck to know anything about Ryan other than the fact he was a shitty ex of mine who I never want to see or have anything to do with again.
Especially since he and Ryan will be on opposite sides of a hockey rink next week. Not once, but twice.
It’s my luck that the Brumehill Black Bears are facing Ryan’s Withermore University Falcons on back-to-back nights. Ryan’s team will be here in Cedar Shade for two games in a row, Friday and Saturday night.
Since I know Ryan is stalking my Instagram—and made an asshole-ish comment on a picture of me and Tuck—I know he knows who Tuck is. But, hopefully, if Tuck doesn’t know who Ryan is, they’ll be able to get through the game without any trouble going down between them.
The thought of Tuck and Ryan sharing the ice just fills me with an ominous feeling.
I shake off the thought, though. I’m probably worrying about nothing. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
37
TUCK
“Can’t win ‘em all,” I sigh morosely.
We just piled back into the locker room after a 2-3 loss in an away game in upstate New York. We played just about our worst game, and our opponents played just about their best. Hey, it happens.
Hudson groans as he strips off his pads. “I can’t believe I let that last fucking shot get through. We could’ve at least held it to a tie and gotten a chance to win in overtime.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Lane says. “I totally blew it covering their center.”
“And their winger deked me and got wide open,” Rhys continues.
Jamie sighs wistfully, walking by. “Losing is a team effort as much as winning is, Hudson. Not like I played my best, either.”
Hudson’s gotten a lot better about not beating himself up over a disappointing performance, but it’s still a habit he hasn’t entirely shaken off.
“Look, guys, Coach is gonna ream us out about everything we did wrong in this game all week,” Carter says, leaning against his locker. “No reason to do it to ourselves ahead of his schedule. I’ve got a much more important issue for us to consider than all of that.”
