“You have to be the most put together person I know,” Ariella says.
I smile at her, then look at Lexi, knowing she knows my story, and that it’s all an illusion. I mean, I have come to terms with it, but I also know love comes with strings, or the love I’m used to comes with strings, and I don’t want that.
I’ve had strings my whole life, a puppet master making sure I did what I was told; did things to please him. “It’s not as cut and dry as that,” I tell them, “but when I do start dipping my toe in the dating pool, you guys will be the first ones to know. Until then, I shall enjoy the single hookups here and there.” I take a sip. “That’s the safest thing for me right now.” I take a deep inhale. “Now, the real question is, who is going to be driving us home?” I change the subject, at the same time trying not to feel sad that I’m going to be going home alone.
seven
Knox
I walk out of the locker room with my gloves in my hands and put one under my arm as I grab my stick and head to the ice. The sound of the pucks hitting the boards echoes as I walk out of the tunnel toward the bench and out the wood door that swings open. Gliding onto the ice, I put my glove on and then move the stick to my gloved hand before tying the strap under my helmet. “Look who decided to show up,” Kirby ribs me, his hip cocked to the side, both his hands on his stick as he waits for Coach to give us the drill.
“I was here before you were,” I tell him. “I was on the bike for an hour before you rolled out of bed.”
“Fuck that,” he retorts, “you were not.”
“I was.” I nod at him as Jaxon comes over to our huddle.
“Who was what?” he asks, adjusting his helmet.
“I was here at eight this morning,” I tell the guys, and Jaxon just stares at me. “Had breakfast and then hit the bike.”
“This morning?” he asks me, pointing to the ice.
“No, five weeks ago.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, this morning.”
“Why the fuck were you here so early?” he asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t know, I hate when the kids aren’t there; the house is deafening with the silence. It’s almost as if the walls are screaming, ‘you lonely fuck’ at me.” They both laugh. “I think I’m going to get a dog.”
“What?” Jaxon says. “Do you know the commitment you need with a dog?”
“Get a cat,” Kirby suggests.
“Cats are so boring,” Jaxon says.
“Yeah.” Kirby smirks. “But you don’t have to toilet train a cat,” he points out, and I think about it. “Best thing is you don’t have to worry about them, totally independent.”
“But I want the company,” I tell them.
“What are you going to do when you go away?”
“They have doggy daycare and shit,” I fire back. “The kids would love it and?—”
“It’s just a huge commitment,” Jaxon says. “Like the puppy stage. Pissing all over the house.” He rolls his eyes. “We had a dog when we were growing up. Crate training was the worst time of my life. Dog stayed up all night whining, like all fucking night.” He shakes his head. “My father even came out of his room and yelled shut up.” He looks at me. “My sister had to sleep in a sleeping bag beside the crate to calm him down.”
“I got my cat,” Kirby interjects, “brought her home, filled the litter box, and put her in it. Boom, bang, done. Bought a cat condo thing and she never used that motherfucker. Collected dust until I gave it away. Comes to me when she wants pets, which is rare but when she does, it’s cool. She basically runs the house and we just live in it.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, “but I’m pretty sure I want a dog who can lie on the couch with me. They understand you when you talk to them. Cats just look at you. You can’t tell a cat, ‘Hey, let’s go for a walk.’”
“You can,” Kirby counters and he sounds insulted, “she just ignores you; it’s perfect.”
“What kind of dog were you thinking of getting?” Jaxon asks me and I shrug. “What if you meet a girl and she’s allergic to dogs, or better yet, she hates them?”
“Then I don’t date her.” I chuckle. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll be dating for a while.”
“You say that now,” Kirby says, “but eventually you are going to date, and when you bring her home and she’s sneezing and shit, then you have to decide ‘do I keep the girl who keeps my bed and other parts of me warm at night, or do I choose the freeloader who sits when I tell him to?’”
“You really have a way with words.” Jaxon pushes his shoulder. “You should be a motivational speaker.”
