“Yes?”
I breathe out. Breathe in. Let the pain from my ribs shoot through me. “I made a promise to go out on my own terms. To not let my team down. Tonight, I let them down because I was distracted.”
Her brow furrows. Her voice is filled with concern as she asks, “How were you distracted?”
I swallow past the guilt. “Because I was looking at you. I was thinking of you. I can’t stop thinking about you.” The words should be positive, but it feels like I’m wrenching up my guts, andthat’s the problem.I can’t manage all of these feelings and deliver on my top priority.My team.“But the thing is, I think about you so much…I can’t concentrate on hockey.”
She nods a few times, absorbing my meaning. “Youreally can’t?” she asks carefully, perhaps making sure I mean what I’m saying.
“Yeah. I think we should take a—” I wince. My ribs ache. I brace my arm around them, coughing, because I hate what I’m about to say. She grabs a pillow and hands it to me. I hold it tight as she says what I can’t.
“A break?” Her voice sounds like it’s breaking too, and I grab hold of the lifeline she’s giving me.
“Yeah.” But I don’t want to be a complete dick. “But you can still—you can still shoot the podcast at my mom’s.”
She gives me a look of disbelief. I can’t believe I said it either. But the damage is done, so when she says a harsh, “Thanks,” I just mutter, “You’re welcome.”
And I don’t stop her when she leaves.
Instead, I pet my dog.
Because Zamboni stays. No matter what.
33
THE FULL TONGUE TREATMENT
SKYLAR
I’m starfished on the living room carpet, bathrobe flared open, trying futilely to reach for my coffee cup when I hear it.
A squawking comes from the mudroom window. Sounds a little like aroh-roh-roh.
Rolling listlessly to my side, I face Simon. “Can you go check?”
He wags his tail.
“It might be the great blue heron.”
His tail thumps faster. He tilts his head, his floppy ears sweeping the hardwood.
“Do it,” I urge, nodding toward him. “I have faith in you.”
He slides over to me on his belly and drags his tongue down my face. I squeeze my eyes closed, like that’s enough to fend off the full tongue treatment. “Seriously. You’re my only hope. Do it and let me know.”
He swipes my other cheek.
I open my eyes, then lift my right arm, grunting. Or is that a whimper? Maybe it’s both. “Ungh. Ungh.” I slumpback down, my shoulder smacking the wood. “I can’t. Go on without me.”
Simon bolts to attention, clambering onto my chest. “Seriously. Save yourself,” I tell him, then flail my arms around. “Your food is in the pantry. I’ll let Mabel and Trevyn know.”
The squawking grows louder. Simon barks, then licks more furiously. I fling a hand over my eyes. “I can’t. I’m too sad.”
It’s been thirty-six hours since I was dumped. And dumped rudely, with a casualyou can still do your podcastsend-off.
“I knew I hated him for a reason,” I mutter, but inside I’m aching. I didn’t even get a chance to argue with Ford about the split. To fight for him, and for us. He was so…certain in his stupid nobility.
I death-moan again. That earns me more licks.
