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Then West looks at me, awaiting my answer. I glance awkwardly at Bruce and Remy. I guess no one has filled West in that I don’t drink.
“Uh, I’d take a bottle of water?”
He eyes me curiously but doesn’t make any annoying comments. “Sure. Hey Mel, throw me a bottle of water?”
She pulls one from the fridge and tosses it to him, he catches it easily and hands it to me. Honestly, it was a good throw. I’m impressed.
West nods at me, then scurries off to the kitchen.
He doesn’t even care that he’s the only guy in there, hanging out with all the girls. I’m guessing as long as Melanie is in the mix, he doesn’t care who else is there. I don’t understand how he can want to be with her all the time. Don’t they get sick of each other? My parents sure did. Maybe other people aren’t like that.
The four of us head to the food table and begin filling our plates with meat and cheese. When I glance up, I notice Colby blatantly staring at a slim blonde with short, curly hair. She’s linking arms with Melanie, but I’ve never seen her before. Colby obviously knows her, though and shoots her a dramatic, open-mouthed wink. She flips him off with her free hand and turns away from him.
Bruce and Remy chuckle.
“Still trying to get Noel to warm up to you?” Remy asks, shaking his head.
Colby puffs out his chest, his abnormally twinkly eyes still frozen on the blonde. “She can’t resist me much longer. My time is coming, boys.”
Bruce must notice my confused expression and explains, “Noel is Melanie’s best friend. Colby’s had his eye on her for over a year, and she hates his guts.”
Colby takes a big bite of salami and speaks through one side of his mouth, his words muffled since his mouth is full, “Dere’s a fine wine between wuv and hate my fwiend!”
I shove his shoulder. “You’re disgusting.”
He grins and tosses a piece of salami on my paper plate. I wrinkle my nose in disgust and toss it into the trash can near the food table.
“Maybe she's into blonds.” Bruce pumps his eyebrows up and down. “I bet she’d go out with me.”
Colby’s eyes go steely in a way I’ve never seen before as he glares at Bruce. I’ve never known Colby to glare before, even against opponents on the ice, and it’s unnerving that he still looks pretty when his face is all scrunched up like that.
Bruce holds his hands up in surrender. “Dude. I’m joking.”
Colby relaxes and continues adding food to his plate. Remy’s eyebrows draw together, I wonder if he’s thinking about how insane his teammates are and how he has to be their captain.
“Alright, let’s go play Nintendo,” Colby says, jutting his chin in that direction.
Reluctantly, I follow them. But I spend the rest of the party glancing at my phone and counting down until it’s an appropriate amount of time to ask Bruce to take me back home.
CHAPTER 6
MITCH
Sitting in my car in the silence, I glance at the time on the dashboard. Thirty-two seconds until I have to get out of my comfortable vehicle and walk inside the building where my new shrink’s office is located.
I don’t want to dredge up old feelings, old memories. Can’t we all just move on and forget about the past? Why dig up old wounds?
Freaking therapy. I scoff to myself. “What a waste of time,” I mutter under my breath, opening the door of my car and stepping out.
A few cold drops of wetness hit the top of my head. Of course, it’s raining today. Winter rain, the worst kind. A warm rainy day in the heat of summer is always a welcomed break from the heat, but cold rain in the middle of winter? Ugh.
I duck my head and rush inside the brick building. It’s one of those that has a sign in front telling you which offices are on which floor. I pull up the email on my phone with my therapist’s information on it. “Dr. Curtis, right.”
Following the sign, I walk up the steps to the third floor, dread heightening in my gut with every step I take. Dr. Curtis’s name is on a plaque on the first door I come to and I take a deep breath before knocking.
The doctor opens the door, his smile is warm. “Mitch Anderson, welcome.” He steps aside so I can come in. I see a coat rack and remove my now damp coat and hang it there.
“Have a seat wherever you feel the most comfortable,” he tells me, walking toward a large desk in the back corner of the spacious room. Aside from his desk, there’s a couch in the center of the room, and two arm chairs. Everything is in calm, cool colors. The sofas are grey, the rug is light blue. Even the pictures on the walls are of misty ocean views. I’m surprised he’s not playing some stupid harp music to really top off the calming experience.
