“You had family ish-”
“And youarepart of my family too.”
“Then barn fires to put out-”
“I’malwaysgonna have fires to put out, Gilly,” lightly chortles my best friend. “Comes with bein’ the bench boss.” He shakes his head in amusement and disapproval alike. “You’re making excuses.” I don’t even manage to think about arguing. “You’re making excusesto me…about me…whichtells meyou’ve been the doing the sameand worseto him.”
My lips guiltily press together, suppressing the lie building sound exposer.
“Circumstances are never gonna be perfect, Gilly, and you trying to wait until they theoretically are is just your way of further pushing off the inevitable of us meeting likely ‘cause you’re afraid I won’t love the bud like you do.”
“Please don’t love him exactly like I do,” I good naturedly tease while toying with my jukebox necklace. “That’s not my type of porn.”
“Dude on dude?”
“Broon my dude.” Small sniggers can’t be stopped. “That’s wincest and never been my double click preference.”
“Mine either.”
More chuckles are exchanged, luring my entire frame to relax and the ball of apprehension clogging my cords to dissolve.
“Time to nut up, aye,” M casually commands. “Time to put us in the same room with a round of wings and brewskies and let us faceoff.” Yelling in the background is promptly followed by him announcing, “Plane’s ready. I gotta go.But…” He points a firm finger into the camera. “We’re on a four-day homestead starting tomorrow, so we’re gonna make this shit happen. Pick a date. A place. Confirm with him. Text me the deets. Got it?”
Reluctance to cave is hard to ignore.
“Gillian.”
His use of my full name tied to the tone has me sticking my tongue out before surrendering, “Got it.”
“Atta girl,” he laughs. “All the love.”
“Me too.”
Our call ends yet again leaving me with the undeniable, ugly truth.
They’re right.
I’ve been avoiding the sitch like a cavity I swear I can just live with despite how miserable it makes me, and it’s time to put an end to it.
It’s time to do the super hard thing and let M finally know that I’m not just banging one of his players.
I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with one.
Chapter 21
Thayne
There are shit games and then there areshitgames.
Like this.
We’re talkin’lastcup of coffee in the house is burnt bad.
We’re talkin’ locked out ofeverymusic app on your phone bad.
We’re talkin’ dropped down to the ECHL for the remainder of my contract bad.
“Fuckin’ come on, Hall,” I tap the post to my right, “get your shit together, Oates.” My stick clicks against the one to my left. “Give me more “Kiss on My List’.” Folding my frame forward into a defensive stance is executed next. “’Less Out of Touch’.”
