“I’ll take you home. I have to go run an errand,” he offers.
“You sure?” I ask as I glance up at him.
He nods. “Yep. Besides, no friend of mine is going to cart this piece of luggage on the bus,” he states as he adjusts my bag.
“It’s not that big,” I laugh.
“That’s what she said,” he teases.
I giggle and bump my hip against his thigh. “You’re ridiculous,” I say.
“Maybe, but that’s why we’re friends,” he retorts, and just like that, we’re back to our normal friendship banter. Maybe the vacation won’t be so weird after all? I can pretend I don’t have a massive crush on Hutch. Can’t I?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hutch
I’m sitting with Cliff at the bench. It’s become my nightly after-work ritual. My phone pings with a text. I pull it out of my pocket and smile when I see Farley has texted.
Farley: The house is ready for you. The keys are at the gatehouse. Just give them this code I’m sending to you. If you need anything, you can contact Yasmine. Her number is under the code. I’ve sent your grocery list to her, and the kitchen will be stocked. Have fun! And you better be coming to my first game. I’m getting you tickets. Find yourself a date because I’m not taking no for an answer.
I pause after reading it. I want to be there for him. I really do. But the thought of sitting in the stands seems too much. I haven’t attended a professional game since my injury.
Me: Thanks, man. I’m looking forward to the vacation. I’ll touch base when I get back.
I put my phone in my pocket again, hoping that text will at least buy me time as I contemplate whether I’m ready to go to a game. I really want to be there for my friend, but I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet.
I toss some peanuts over at Cliff, who sits on a giant stone, eating away without a care in the world.
“What’s it like not having to worry about anything but eating, pooping, and sleeping?” I ask him…or her, according to Al.
“Well, I do have bills to pay and books to read, but it’s pretty damn nice,” Jocelyn’s voice says from behind me. Damn that woman! She’s always sneaking up on me.
“Glad to hear pooping isn’t your biggest problem,” I tease as I look over at her.
“I mean, I was super constipated last week, but don’t worry, Mom added extra zucchini into that chocolate loaf she made for happy hour,” Jocelyn jokes as she sits down next to me.
“How’s Cliff?” she asks, motioning to the trash panda.
“It’s apparently Cliffette,” I correct.
“Oh? Well, geez, we really messed that up. Do people do animal gender reveal parties? Like, should we open a big box with pink balloons or something?” she teases as she leans back and watches Cliff eat.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think that might scare her,” I say while tossing out the rest of the nuts I brought.
“Seriously? You don’t go on social media, like ever?” Jocelyn asks.
“Not if I can avoid it,” I explain. I remember going on social media all the time when I played, but then after the accident, it was just too hard. And then the more I didn’t go on, the easier it got to disconnect from all those things that made living my new life difficult. And I never went back on after I got settled here in the apartment.
“Wow. What’s it like living in the 1900s?” she asks.
I glare at her. “Hey! I’m not that old,” I protest. “Besides, weren’t you born in the 1900s?” I add as I attempt to do math.
She starts giggling. “Uh, nope. Early 2000s,” she says.
My eyes widen. What the fuck? How is she that young?
“How old are you?” she asks.
