“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper against Cupcake’s ear. I brush her fur and murmur more nonsensical things to her until the door opens to reveal an exhausted-looking blond man about my age. His blue eyes are kind, and he has broad shoulders with a narrow waist.
“I’m Doctor Young.” He holds out his hand for a shake, and I take it in a firm grip. “I’m the new veterinarian, since my grandfather retired. And this must be Cupcake?”
Cupcake buries her head farther into my chest at the sound of her name.
“She’s not very happy right now,” I tell the doctor with a soft chuckle.
He smiles softly, eyes wrinkled at the corners. “I suppose not. This place is very scary. I wonder if Cupcake likes tummy pets though?”
Cupcake looks over, eyes squinted and wary. I take that as my cue to lift her onto the table. Her nails slip and slide against the metal, but Dr. Young’s firm hand moving over her spine calms her and she stills under his touch. Wow. He’s magic.
He’s quiet as he listens to her heart and palpitates some of her extremities, then her stomach. She seems enamored by him in a way she rarely is with people. I can see it though. He’s weary and kind, quiet and gentle.
“She’s in good health for her age. The joints are getting a little worse. I can feel the creaks when I move her legs. Have you been giving her any supplements?”
“Yep.” I nod and rub my hand over Cupcake’s stomach, earning me a happy huff from Cupcake. “I buy them online, and give her two every morning.”
“I’m going to increase them. And I want you to keep up the gentle beach walks with her. It’s good for her to not get locked up.”
I nod in agreement. “Got it.”
“You’re doing a good job. She’s a very happy and healthy girl.” He says it all with a smile as he scribbles down what he just told me on a pad. He flourishes the paper, and I grab it, then watch with a smile as he dips down to boop Cupcake on her nose. “I don’t want to see you for another year, okay? Eat your arthritis cookies.”
She perks up at the word cookie, and Dr. Young reaches to the side to grab a Milk-Bone and offers it to her with a crook of his lips. We shake before he leaves, then I pat Cupcake on the head. We head back home to the island with the windows down on the balmy August evening. The humidity of South Carolina has taken some getting used to after my youth in Nebraska, and then my time spent in California.
We get back home and I settle Cupcake in front of the fireplace. It’s her favorite spot in the whole house because she has a view of the beach to the back, fireplace in the winter, and the kitchen where I spend much of my time. I love to cook, and it’s a safe place for me. Back in San Diego I used to bake for my teammates, which all of them appreciated. Sometimes I’d have them over to the house for big team bonding dinners, or cookouts in the offseason, since I lived in San Diego. Lots of the lesser paid players go home then, back to places where it’s cheaper to live.
I decide to clean the kitchen before starting to work on cooking anything. My phone rings halfway through cleaning, and I try to hold back the wince at my former agent’s name on the screen. I can’t avoid him forever. Might as well bite the bullet now.
“Hey, Rafe,” I say as I rub down the kitchen island.
“I got an interesting phone call the other day.” Rafe never has been one for pleasantries. Always straight to business.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Houston is wondering if you’re interested in coaching.”
I drop the sponge with a soft gasp of shock. “What?”
“Offensive coordinator.”
“Nah, not interested. That’s wild though. Just Houston?”
“So far,” Rafe answers with a sigh. “You’re not done with football, Chuck.”
Yuck, I hate that nickname. Not worth the argument with Rafe though. “I’m done with football for now. I need a break. Especially after my knee.”
Rafe groans, but I know he understands. “All right. I wouldn’t be a good agent if I didn’t bring this to you.”
“Former agent,” I point out.
Rafe snorts in obvious disagreement. “You can stop paying me, but I’ll always be your agent, kid. Now what the heck is going on with all that lantern festival stuff you’ve been sharing on your social media feed?”
“It’s a festival they do here every year. You pay an admission fee, receive a lantern, light it, and it floats into space.”
“This doesn’t sound eco-friendly.”
“They’re biodegradable. I asked.”
