“I think you owe your neighbor an apology,” Guy said.
My head cocked back for a second. “What neighbor?”
Guy’s eyes rounded. “You don’t remember?”
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the chair. A memory of soft thighs, white silk, and angry eyes came back to me. “Right. Sweet Cheeks.”
“Her name is Jessie,” Guy corrected.
“Yep. Jessie. We had good banter.”
Guy guffawed. “Banter? She can’t stand you.”
“Impossible.” I refused to accept it. Jessie was hot as hell, even when her light brown hair was disheveled and her hazel brown eyes had the wrath of the devil himself in them. I could not forget those braless wonders of breasts swinging in my face while she was cussing me out. I could not forget her strong thighs under my hands, with such soft skin. I could not forget how hot she was when she was so angry. What would it be like to have her take that anger out on me? Sounds fun.
I never heard her get angry with her boyfriend, but I heard him get angry with her. His rage was never warranted. Sheshould have been angry with him. Not only did it sound like he was mean to her, but I heard their pathetic sex all the time. There was no way he was getting her there. I’ve dealt with a good handful of fakers in my day, and she was faking with him.
A woman like that deserves to be made whole. If she were mine, I’d make sure she wasn’t faking.
But she wasn’t mine. She was his, and I’d been kind of an asshole to her and should probably apologize. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “What do I do? Send a fruit basket?”
Guy chortled. “I think you can just go say sorry. But she did mention she had to work today. She’s out living a normal person life. You’ll have to apologize after she gets home.”
After we heated some breakfast burritos that my food prep lady made, we woke Obi up.
“Can you be hung over from a gummy?” he croaked as he shuffled into the kitchen.
“Bud, I think you dominated at beer pong,” I said.
“It’s okay to stop early. You don’t have to play the whole tournament, you know,” Guy added.
“Where’s the honor in that?” Obi asked, affronted.
“He’s living his college experience, Stelle,” I said. “Let him be. No one stopped us in college.”
“Fair,” Guy said.
It was Nick Oberbeck’s rookie season with us, a goalie prodigy. At only twenty, Guy and I took him under our proverbial wings to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. The league can do ugly things to a man, and making mistakes at a young age on a public stage is rough. I was lucky I was still in school and then the AHL when I was his age. Guy had it a little harder, leaving his junior year and being hung up on Kitty the whole time. We were happy to let Obi cut loose in more controlled settings like our house parties, where he couldn’t get into trouble. And we always made him stay over so he wouldn’t get in some Uber drama or a drunk driving incident.
Who would have ever guessed that Stelle and I would be the ones to keep a kid out of trouble?
“How’s the shoulder?” Obi asked.
I rotated my arm to test it. “Okay I guess? I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel right, but I don’t think there’s anything specific wrong with it. Might just be the weather making it act up.”
“Old man,” Obi said.
Stelle chuckled. “He called you old.”
“You’re the same age, dickhead!” I scoffed.
“I’m a summer baby. I’m six months younger,” Stelle said with a shrug.
“You should tell PT. We don’t want you out for weeks,” Obiwent on.
“How about you focus on what goes on between the pipes and I’ll do the worrying about my shoulder, huh?”
“Sheesh. Somebody’s testy,” Guy said.
