I take a sip, letting the caffeine hit my bloodstream. I’m trying to act normal. Trying to pretend I didn’t drunk-dial my backup goalie and basically propose marriage.
Caley leans against the counter, blowing on her own coffee. She’s watching me with a look I know well. It’s her “I’ve diagnosed you, and I’m waiting for you to admit symptoms” look.
“So,” she says casually. “You were chatty last night.”
I choke on my coffee. “I—what?”
“Calm your tits, dumbass,” she says, smirking. “The walls in this place are pretty thin, Lou. I could hear you from the den.”
I groan, covering my face with my good hand. “Oh god. How bad was it?”
“Bad? It wasn’t bad. It was actually really nice.” She pauses. “I haven’t heard you sound that way in a long time. You sounded really happy.”
I frown. “What do you mean? I’m happy, I’m always happy.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe ‘happy’ isn’t the right word. But you sounded, I don’t know… content or something. Settled.”
“I sounded like a Hallmark card,” I mutter. “I don’t do Hallmark cards, Cay. I do, ‘Hey, good game, let’s get a beer.’ I don’t tell people theybelong with me.”
“You like him.” It’s not a question.
I drop my hand and look at my sister. I could lie and tell her it was the drugs talking. But Caley knows me better than anyone, and she wouldn’t believe me.
“Yeah. I think I do,” I admit. “A lot. And it’s fucking terrifying.”
She tilts her head to the side. “You mean because he’s a guy?”
“No. I mean, yeah, that’s obviously new. But that’s not the issue.” I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t feel normal with Tanner. I’m usually Mister One-and-Done. Mostly because I’ve never been interested in all the hassle and stress and general bullshit that everyone in a serious relationship seems to deal with. I’ve never really felt the need, you know? But this thing with Tanner feels completely different.”
I look down at my coffee, watching the steam rise.
“It’s like I care about his feelings more than my own. I care what’s going on in his head, whether he’s okay. If something’s bothering him, I have thisneedto make it better. Last night, I could tell something was bugging him from the way he left the ice after the game, and I physically couldn’t sleep until I fixed it. I’ve never been like this with anyone. I feel… exposed.”
Caley nods slowly. “You’ve got it bad, brother.”
“I don’t do ‘sappy,’ Cay. I’m thirty-four. I should have this figured out. Instead, I’m acting like a teenager with a crush. Isn’t that weird?”
“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention before,” she suggests gently. “Or maybe Tanner is special.”
“He is special,” I whisper. “That’s the problem. If I screw this up, it’s going to hurt. Like, really hurt.”
“So you’re scared,” she says. “Good.”
I stare at her. “Good?”
“Yeah. Good. It means it’s real. Just because you’ve never felt this way before doesn’t mean it’s wrong, Lou. It just means the stakes are higher.”
She walks over and flicks me on the forehead.
“Ow.”
“Listen to me. You’ve spent your whole life being the ‘fun guy’ because it’s easy and safe. But easy and safe is boring. If this guy matters to you—and he obviously does—then stop whining about how scary it is and man up.”
“Man up?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s your medical advice?”
“My medical advice is that emotional constipation is why men die before women. My sisterly advice is to stop running away because you might have finally found something worth keeping.”
I snort a laugh as she drains her mug and sets it in the sink with a clatter.
