Their eyes locked, and something unspoken hung there, fragile and dangerous and so, so sweet. Slowly, their arms loosened, but neither was willing to let go entirely. Instead, their hands found each other naturally, fingers twining in a grip that felt both easy and unshakable.
Together, hand in hand, they walked back toward the kitchen.
CHAPTER 23
TATE
“THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING!”
Tate snarled at the mass in his hands and heard Mulligan’s hiss of support nearby as the kitten puffed up its back, ready to pounce on the green ball of yarn in his hand. “How in the heck is this supposed to be fun or relaxing? I feel like the world’s biggest idiot – and it looks like crap. I can’t show this to anyone…”
He let his shoulders slump as he sat there, debating on whether or not to stab the stupid knitting needles into the drywall as a therapeutic signature that he was never, ever attempting this again… and didn’t.
“I’d have to fix the walls if I did,” he muttered hotly and settled with shoving the sticks into the green floppy skein of yard that was mangled because Mulligan kept attacking it with his hind legs. “And what in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks does it mean by ‘knit one, purl two’? Was I supposed to buy a bunch of fake pearls, or is that code for something? And what does the video mean, ‘pick and throw’ – cause I’m really ready to throw something…”
The infernal YouTube videos he’d watched went so fast, and they moved their fingers so quickly it made him feel like a bumbling buffoon. The yarn was all a bunch of wavy lines, twosticks, and squiggles as they weaved their hands, and magically it ‘knit’ together.
That was not happening for him.
It was snarled, a few awkward ‘knits’ that looked more like ‘knots,’ and if you pulled hard enough, it unraveled. Putting the yarn down on the couch, he looked at Mulligan, who immediately started purring.
“Yeah, buddy… I need something that makes me a little less on edge, too,” he whispered, petting the kitten, and then froze. “Awww crap…”
Grabbing his phone, he called Nettie.
She answered on the fourth ring, her voice sounding breathless and frustrated like she’d been busy and he was bothering her.
“Hey, are you busy?”
“Just sitting here waiting for you to call.”
“Why do I feel like you’re being sarcastic?”
“I am.”
“Look, if I caught you at a bad time…”
“No, it’s fine. I was trying to do laundry and didn’t have my phone with me when you called. While I’d love to say you make me breathless – apparently, kicking a doorjamb by mistake with your pinky toe will create the same effect,” she hissed out in frustration. “So, you now have my complete attention – what’s up?”
“I need you to feed Mulligan while I’m gone for an away game.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“I’m busy.”
“With what?”
“I’m kidding… sheesh, calm down, Cujo.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You call me Sticks,” she reminded him.
“I think one is much better received than the other.”
“Why Tate – was that almost a joke?” Nettie seized on his retort, and the mocking tone to her voice had him rolling her eyes. “Or were you flirting with me?” she asked, her voice lowering softly. “Friends don’t flirt…”
