Must Love Dogs...and Hockey

by Kelly Jamieson

  I glide backward on my skates, scowling at Cookie. “Nothing.”

  His look is laced with incredulity. “Nothing. Ha. Get your shit together. You’re in enough trouble.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  His eyebrows fly up. “You goddamn better.”

  My shoulders slump and my head drops forward. “You’re right. Fuck.” I stop, circle him, and skate over to Barbie. I lay my hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Barbs. That was stupid.”

  “What is your problem? You need Snickers?”

  I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, that might be it.” I shake my head.

  “I know this is bad.” He pats my helmet. “Is okay.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  We resume the practice, luckily before Coach strokes out, telling him we were just joking around.

  I’m done earlier than the others, so I grab lunch from the spread in the players’ lounge. I make myself a bowl from the offerings—quinoa, sweet potatoes, edamame, chicken, avocado, and greens. I help myself to a bottle of water in the big fridge that holds nothing but beverages, mainly water and Gatorade.

  I pull out my phone, then realize I’m looking for a message from Lilly.

  Fuck.

  It’s only been a few hours, but somehow I don’t think I’m going to hear from her ever again. My stomach roils and I gaze doubtfully at my food. Then I make myself eat.

  Cookie joins me when I’m about half done. He sits at the small table with me and sets his bowl down. “Okay.” He picks up his cutlery and points his knife at me. “Who crapped in your granola this morning?”

  “Ha ha.” I shrug. “You expect me to be happy after watching the game from the press box last night?”

  “You hungover?”

  “Nah.”

  He forks up some pasta and chews. “Okay, we know you’re pissed, but you don’t need to be an asshole. This isn’t Barbie’s fault.”

  “Jesus. If you’re gonna ride my ass, at least pull my hair.”

  Cookie barks out a laugh. “So that’s what you like, huh?”

  “Do you like to be spanked too?” JBo asks as he takes another chair at the table. “No judgment here.”

  “I feel I’ve been spanked enough,” I say dryly. I blow out a breath. “Lilly and I had a fight last night.”

  JBo nods. “You really like it rough, huh?”

  “No! Not like that.” Well, I do like it rough sometimes and so does Lilly. I swallow another sigh at that thought. “I mean, we argued. I think we broke up.”

  “Huh.” Cookie frowns. “Like things aren’t bad enough.”

  “Tell me about it.” I poke at a piece of avocado. My gut feels like a rock. I shouldn’t have eaten this stuff. I set down my fork and lean back in my chair. “On the bright side, at least I’m not addicted to cocaine.”

  “Look, Coach isn’t going to bench you forever. He can’t. We need your goals.”

  One corner of my mouth lifts. “Sure.” But I realize that’s not really what I’m worried about. He’s right. This can’t last forever. Either he gets our GM on board and they trade me away, if they can find anyone who wants me after they let it be known I’m “not coachable.” Kiss of fucking death. Or Coach plays me and keeps insulting and abusing everyone.

  I rub my mouth.

  “You look like you’re going to puke,” Cookie says. “You sure you’re not hungover?”

  “Maybe that’s it.” I make a face. “Maybe I should go home and go back to bed.”

  “Too bad you’ll be alone,” JBo says.

  “Thanks for reminding me.” My tone is as sour as kombucha.

  “What did you fight about?” Cookie asks. “Hopefully not birth control.” He glances at Russ, sitting over on one of the couches.

  “No.” I pause. I don’t know if I can even talk about it. I feel like the lowest scum. Lower than snake pussy. The things she accused me of…being afraid. A coward. I don’t want to be those things.

  I fucking hate it that she sees me that way.

  But why do I even care? I’ve never given a shit what anyone thinks of me. Other than the scouts before the draft, and the teams that interviewed me. And my coaches. And…

  And Lilly.

  “It was…well.” I stop. “She thinks I should do something about how Coach is treating me.”

  She also thinks we had something fantastic. And goddammit, she was right. I’ve never had anything like that, with anyone. Just her.

  As I say the out loud part, I question it. Was she telling me to do something for myself? Or for the team? Am I more worried about my own career than what’s happening with the team? And what if I am? What’s wrong with that? It’s not up to me to save the world. I’m the last person who should be expected to do that. Haven’t I been through enough? Why does it have to be me?

  What kind of teamwork is that? I am an asshole.

  They both regard me seriously. “We’ve got your back,” Cookie says quietly.

  “I saw it too,” JBo reminds me. “And heard.” He winces.

  “I don’t know. Fuck.” I rub my face.

  “We get it,” JBo says. “It’s bullshit, but we get it.”

  “Thanks.” I give him a mirthless smile. “Lilly didn’t get it. I better go.” I stand. “Catch you guys later.”

  In my apartment, I’m greeted by a tail-wagging, slobbering pooch.

  “I’ve still got you, Otis.” I bend to rub him all over. “Thank fuck. You wanna go for a walk? Huh?”

  Otis spins a couple of excited circles and I grab his leash and hook him up.

  I have to carry him into the elevator, but he’s not even shaking. He’s almost over his trauma. Christ, that was a crazy night, him nearly getting strangled in the elevator and that crazy woman, who I’ve been calling Jane Doe in my mind.

  As if thinking about it conjures her up, I come face-to-face with her when the elevator doors open onto the lobby. She stares at me, then looks down at Otis. “Oh my God! I found you.”

  My mouth drops open. The man standing next to her says, “Percy!” and bends to Otis.

  Percy? What?

  The man straightens. “This is my dog.”

  Lilly

  I’m sitting on my bed, hugging a furry pillow, listening to The Weeknd sing “Call Out My Name.”

  I left Easton’s apartment and ran all the way home in the freezing rain. I was falling apart, and I needed to do it in my own place. Carlin’s at work and I don’t have to walk any dogs until two o’clock when I pick up Apollo and Rusty.

  I cried myself sick, washed my face, straightened my shoulders, then cried some more.

  I’m annoyed with myself for being this upset, lecturing myself. Yes, out loud. “Jesus and three fishes, you knew you shouldn’t fall for him. You knew you shouldn’t fall for any man.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “Men will just let you down. Every time.”

  You still have me.

  But apparently that’s not enough for him.

  I knew I was supposed to be living my best life on my own. I don’t need my dad to bail me out. I don’t need a boyfriend. I don’t need a fucking boss. I can be my own boss and start my own business, and I have girlfriends who I love and who love me. And I have dogs. Maybe not my own, but the next best thing. Dogs, who love unconditionally.

  I fell for Easton anyway. I fell like dismal rain, pouring from the sky. Like shadows that fall at night. Like tears.

  Easton’s right. I always think things will work out. I should have known better. But maybe I’ll never learn that lesson and that’s okay, because that’s who I am.

  His remark about my lawsuit hurt. It reminded me of other people who derided me for doing that. As if all I cared about was money.

  He could be right, though. My lawyer sounds confident, but anything ca
n happen. The court date is less than two weeks away. If I went through all that pain and suffering going through discoveries with the corporation’s sharkish lawyers interrogating me and trying to trip me up and painting me as unreliable and self-centered, and the endless meetings with my own lawyers, who, even though they represent me, are also sharks, and I don’t like sharks—if I went through all that for nothing…

  I close my eyes.

  What if that happens? I need to be prepared for reality.

  At least it will be done. I feel I’ve already moved on with my life, but I still have that hanging over me and I want it done. If I lose, so be it. I tried. I can still hold my head up and know that I did the right thing.

  Unlike Easton.

  Fuck.

  I fall forward onto the mattress and curl up in a fetal position, still clutching the cushion.

  I haven’t known him that long, but after learning things about him, hearing what happened to him, I feel I know him pretty well. And I knew he was afraid of something, I just didn’t know what.

  He’s afraid of losing hockey. Because that’s all he has.

  That hurt too. Like a slap across the face. Because stupidly, I thought I meant something to him, like he does to me.

  I pull in a long, slow breath and let it out.

  * * *

  —

  The text message I get from Easton the next morning isn’t unexpected. It still pisses me off, though.

  You don’t need to come walk Otis anymore. Thanks for helping with him.

  My hands shake holding my phone. The adrenaline rush of fury makes me edgy, twitchy, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I should have known this was going to happen. I did bring it up when we got involved and he assured me it would make no difference. Well, he can just fuck off. And keep fucking off. He can keep fucking off to the other side of the world and then fuck off some more.

  I want to text that back to him. I grit my teeth to keep myself from doing that. Then I close the chat window and toss my phone down.

  Great. I lost my biggest customer.

  But that’s not even what I’m sad about. I’ll miss Otis. I love the goofy guy. And I’ll miss Easton. Because I love him too. But I’ll get over it, because he’s not the man I thought he was.

  Except…I think he is. I think he has feelings for me. I think he wants to do something to help the team.

  I don’t know how to help him.

  When Carlin gets home from work, I fill her in on the latest. We talked last night. I love her. Thank God I have her. Thursday night, Maya and Adriana come over with all the stuff for mulled wine and appies, and I pretend I’m fine. I will be fine.

  Now it’s Friday night. Carlin’s out at William’s staff Christmas party, and I’m home alone. Not even Otis is here to keep me company. I turn on the TV. There’s a Bears game tonight. I shouldn’t watch it, because it reminds me of Easton, but I can’t stop myself.

  Carlin and I put up a little tree in the corner the day we went Christmas shopping at the market. Today, I went back to the market to get her necklace and pick up Easton’s cuff links. I’d already paid for them. Maybe I’ll mail them to him.

  Our tree sparkles with little white lights and an assortment of ornaments from Target. Snow falls softly outside the windows onto the front street. It all feels very seasonal. And I feel…miserable.

  Easton’s not playing again tonight. Even though I’m hurt and angry at him, I still ache for how he must be feeling right now. An intense longing sweeps over me, wishing he would come home to me and I could comfort him.

  The outside door buzzer sounds. I start and frown. Who could that be? I know it’s not Easton because they just showed him watching the game.

  I answer. “Hello?”

  “Lilly? It’s Dad.”

  I jerk back and blink. Holy shit.

  Chapter 20

  Easton

  I’ve lost everything. But it’s my own fault.

  I’m sitting up here in the press box level watching Friday night’s game. I’m not playing.

  I’ve lost Otis. Okay, that wasn’t my fault. I knew he was never going to be mine to keep forever, except…I guess I started to take it for granted that his owner was never coming for him.

  I’ve lost Lilly. That was definitely my fault.

  Not only that, I’ve lost my self-respect. There’s a big problem here, and I’m sitting around feeling sorry for myself instead of doing something about it.

  I’ve thought a lot about Lilly and the things she said. I’ve also thought about the things she’s done. Because actions speak louder than words, right? She believed so strongly in something that she sacrificed a lot of things—her career, her reputation, her finances—to make things right. She lost a boyfriend, who clearly was a dick not worthy of her to begin with. But she stuck to her values and kept going.

  She has every right to call me a coward. Because she’s the bravest woman I’ve ever met.

  Missing her is like missing a piece of me, like an arm or a leg. I’m lost and lonely and pathetic. I miss Otis too, but not like I miss her.

  I fucked up big time.

  The crowd roars, the goal horn blares, and Goose and Larry on either side of me give silent fist pumps. (Nobody ever cheers in the press box.) I missed the goal. I rub my forehead. I should at least pay attention to the game. I could be learning something from watching up here.

  I manage to focus for the rest of the game. It’s Friday night and a bunch of guys are going out, but I’m not feeling it, so I head home. Cookie joins me on the walk to the subway station and on the train ride. Guess he’s not feeling it either.

  “Want to come for a beer?” I ask him unenthusiastically as we arrive at our building.

  “Sure.”

  Damn, I was hoping he’d say no, and I could be alone to wallow in self-pity.

  “It’s weird with no dog here,” Cookie comments as we walk into my apartment.

  “I know.”

  “That was so bizarre.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “No kidding.”

  It turned out Jane Doe is actually Karen, and Otis’s owner is Dennis. Not Percy. Percy was Otis’s name.

  Otis is a much better name.

  Dennis, who’d only just moved into the building, had been working in Hong Kong for a few months and Karen was supposed to look after Otis (I refuse to call him Percy) but she found out that Dennis had been cheating on her with another woman in Hong Kong, and she wanted to get back at Dennis and get rid of Otis. After the elevator incident she was so flustered and freaked out she took the opportunity to bolt, leaving him with me. Dennis just returned from Hong Kong to learn that his girlfriend had basically given away his dog and he was pissed. They’d talked to the building manager and had found out my apartment number and were on their way up to see me when I ran into them.

  “I guess. Stealing him back probably isn’t an option, huh?”

  “I considered it.” I grab two beers from the fridge.

  “Did you consider not giving him back?”

  I hand him a beer. “Yeah. But what could I do? I always knew he wasn’t my dog.”

  I’m trying to pretend I’m not dejected about this, but I know that Cookie knows I’m totally faking it.

  In the living room, I lose my suit jacket and tie, remove my cuff links, and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. “Ah. That’s better.”

  Cookie does the same.

  “You had a good game tonight,” I say. “Three assists. That’s fantastic.”

  “Thanks.” He lifts his beer in a toast.

  “I have to say, it’s a different angle watching from above. You can really focus on the little things. Like when Murph came underneath you in the defensive zone when you were running around trying to get the puck out.” />
  He nods.

  I talk about some of the other little things I noticed that we don’t have time to focus on when we’re on the ice.

  “Glad you’re feeling better about this.”

  “I’m not.” I grimace. “Just trying to make the best of it.”

  “I guess that’s good.”

  “What else can I do?” I sigh. “Actually…I’ve been thinking about what to do.”

  “About…?” He pauses. “Lilly? Otis? Our asshole coach?”

  “Fuck.” I duck my head. “I can’t do anything about Otis. And I think there’s no hope of fixing things with Lilly. But maybe I can do something about Coach.” I have some other shit to deal with, but I don’t mention that to him.

  I’ve been thinking a lot about what Lilly said to me. About being afraid. She was right, of course. But what sticks in my head, playing over and over, is when she said being brave isn’t the same as not being afraid. It’s just deciding something else is more important.

  My fear isn’t the most important thing. I have to stop being selfish and protecting myself.

  Cookie nods slowly. “Not so sure about Lilly, but okay. What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You know…” He takes a swig of his beer then pins me with a stare. “You don’t have to do it yourself.”

  I squint at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying there’s a whole team who’s pissed and frustrated.”

  I purse my lips. “Okay. Yeah.” Thoughts form in my head and energy fizzes through my veins. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 21

  Lilly

  “What are you doing here?” I stare at my dad after letting him into my apartment, and then I move in to throw my arms around him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  He hugs me back. “Missed you too, chickpea. How are you?”

  “I’m…” I choke up. “I’m okay.”

  He draws away and studies my face. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s a long story. Come in. Let me take your jacket.”