Me: Slow. Finn and Benji won’t stop interrogating me.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Did you tell them?
Me: Was I not supposed to?
PuckingSkylerShaw: No, it’s okay. I figured you would. They’re your people. Just . . . ask them to keep things quiet until I get my head sorted, okay?
Me: Of course. Finn’s solid, and amazingly, Benji can keep a secret when threatened with bodily harm.
I smiled at the screen, that warm feeling expanding.
Me: They’re veryexcited. Benji may be dying.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Tell him to hang in there. I need him alive to keep making those glitter drinks.
Me: He’ll be honored to know you care.
PuckingSkylerShaw: I care about a lot of things these days.
I read that last message three times, trying to parse its meaning, looking for subtext that might or might not exist. Finn sighed in my ear but didn’t move. It felt like having an Irish parrot perched on my shoulder.
Me: Skyler Shaw getting sentimental on me?
PuckingSkylerShaw: Must be something in the water.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Or maybe it’s somethingelse.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Thank you. For today. For being patient with me. For not freaking out when I ambushed you.
Me: I wouldn’t call it an ambush. Ambushes don’t usually involve kitchen doorways and Kevin Costner.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Fair point.
PuckingSkylerShaw: When can I see you again?
Me: I’m off tomorrow night.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Come over? We have home games every night for a week after that. This’ll be our last normal night. I’ll even cook . . . And by cook I mean order food and put it on plates and pretend I madeit.
Me: Sounds perfect.
PuckingSkylerShaw: 7:00?
Me: It’s a date.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
The dots danced.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Yeah. I guess it is. For real this time.
PuckingSkylerShaw: Night, Jacks. Don’t let Benji give you too much grief.
Me: No promises.
Me: Night, Sky.
