@footballislife1:
@SplitCustodyPupParent Wait, that’s a thing? How did you even set that up?
@SplitCustodyPupParent:
We were just venting about our situations over lunch one day and realized we could solve each other’s problems! Drew up a simple agreement about vet costs, food, who keeps him when, etc. Been doing it for two years now.
@oldmanyellsatdog:
This sounds like joint custody after a divorce except you’re entering into it willingly. Seems complicated.
@puppymom89:
@oldmanyellsatdog For once, Kevin has a point. Not that it can’t work, but it IS a lot of coordination.
@footballislife1:
Thanks, guys. You’ve given me a lot of good things to consider.
@oldmanyellsatdog:
The pet rock offer still stands.
@pawsforlife42:
KEVIN.
Chapter 12
Logan
“I’monlyherebecauseMoxie thinks your cat is depressed.” The lie slips out of me the instant Savannah’s door opens, leaving me feeling like an idiot as she gapes at me. That’s not remotely what I came here to say.
“Uh.” She glances behind her, into her apartment. “What?”
It’s at this moment that I notice the pink apron she’s wearing and the very sharp-looking knife sitting in her right hand. The apron, bearing the words “saucy, salty, and sassy” in a loopy font, takes far less of my attention than the possible murder weapon.
“Your cat,” I repeat, like we were in the middle of a conversation and I didn’t just show up to her apartment at eight on a Thursday night and talk nonsense. Come to think of it, I’m surprised Beef Wellington wasn’t at the door to greet me like he’s been in the past. Then again, I haven’t been here in a week and a half, and maybe he’s gotten over his affection toward me.
Savannah’s latex-gloved fingers tighten around the knife at the same time her eyes narrow. “Are you a pet whisperer as well as an international rugby superstar?”
International rugby superstar whose temporary team is currently in Oregon for a match. Without me. It’s one thing to be benched, but Coach suspended me for two weeks when he found out about my shoulder. Not because I got injured but because I lied about it and “recklessly endangered myself.” Those words came from Mel when she concluded that I strained the ligament in my shoulder during the bad tackle, made worse when I got on the bench press.
Despite being their top scorer, I have put myself on the wrong side of the whole LA Thunder organization. I thought it was bad before. This is worse.
Does that explain why I’m standing in Savannah’s doorway? Not really.
“No,” I say slowly, drawing the word out. “I leave the pet stuff to Moxie.”
“Then why are you here?”
Because two days ago I sat through an excruciating meeting with Mel, Moxie, Evanson, Coach,andthe team’s PT, Carissa, and they unilaterally agreed that I’m a liability. And I’ve been given an ultimatum:
I can walk away from my contract with no repercussions, or I can fix my attitude and take responsibility for my life. Evanson’s words, not mine.
He’s right. They all are. I put myself at risk because my pride couldn’t handle a setback I’ve faced many times before. Because nothing has gone right since I got to the States. Because I’m soterrified of losing one of the few good things I have in my life that I can’t think straight anymore and might lose all of them instead.
“I’m here because I’m…”Bad at this. I exhale long and slow, leaving the final word in my sentence thin and quiet. “…sorry.”
