To admit any of that to Camden would require sharing more about my personal life than I want to get into right now, so I grip my phone tight and start walking again. “Dot coming tonight?”
At the mention of his wife, Camden’s eyes light up. “No, she’s actually at a conference this weekend. She’s going to meet so many other people who work in pet rescue and animal placement. Did I tell you that she finally got funding to expand the foster program?”
Camden spends the whole walk regaling me with stories of his wife, with whom he is maddeningly in love. My participation isn’t required, though I nod and smile along. Ordinarily, I’d be paying closer attention, because I actuallylikeCamden.
It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying, though, when I’m worried about my mother.
When we join the rest of the guys gathering outside the locker room, Camden leads us over to Bowen and Tristan.
“You watching film on their top line tonight?” Camden asks me.
“Already did.”
Knight grimaces. “Their left winger keeps shooting blocker side from stupid angles.”
“Because half the league still thinks goalies are weak there,” I respond automatically.
Viktor points at me. “See? This is why I could never be a goalie. You guys are all clinically insane.”
“Says the forward who tried to eat smelling salts straight out of the container last playoffs,” Bowen says.
I nod to show that I’m listening, even though my head is miles away. Almost three thousand miles, to be exact.
“Relax, man,” Tristan says, nudging my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Just relax. No problem.”
Owen:Wait until tonight. I’ll call after the game.
Mama Bird:Oh, baby, you don’t have to do that.
Mama Bird:I can handle it.
Mama Bird:You just focus on doing your best! I’ll be watching on TV.
I let out a sigh that has a bit of grit in it. Some might go so far as to call it a growl. How the hell am I supposed to focus when,apparently,Mom’s house is causing issues again, and she didn’t even tell me?
I completely forget that I have an audience until Viktor Abbott drops into the chair beside me and shoves a baggie of Cheetos under my nose.
“Somebody’s hangry!” He sing-songs the words and gives the baggie a shake. “Open wide, Owen. I’ll baby-bird you.”
Our captain is the kind of guy who turns everything into a bit. I learned a long time ago that I’m better off going along with his nonsense than trying to argue. Arguing with Viktor is the emotional equivalent of getting a gremlin wet after midnight.
So I open my mouth while clutching my phone in both hands, expecting him to feed me the Cheeto. Instead,heeats it.
“What the hell, Vik?”
He holds up one finger, then gestures for me to come closer. His words from earlier finally click.
“No. Absolutely not. If you try to spit chewed-up Cheeto into my mouth, I swear to God…”
“It’s what birds do,” Viktor says around a mouthful of orange paste. “I’m helping.”
I shove my phone into my pocket and snatch the rest of the bag out of Viktor’s hands. “I can eat just fine on my own, thanks.”
“You can baby-bird me,” Knight offers. He opens his mouth.
I turn in my chair, angling my body away from them, unwilling to get caught in the crossfire of their one-upsmanship. Some days I can bring myself to play along, though I’ve cast myself as the straight man in their little play. Today, I’m too annoyed. My job hasalwaysbeen to help my mom. To look out for her when nobody else will. I’ve been the man of the house since I hit puberty. I may not live in said house anymore, but I’m my mother’s caretaker. I’m supposed to make things easier, not watch from afar while her life goes up in flames.
