Hate the Game

by Holly Hall

  I could make demands. I could put myself first.

  I unblocked Theo’s number sometime in December. Maybe it stemmed from a moment of weakness, while I traversed the streets between the L and my apartment every evening as eddies of snow swirled from gunmetal skies, and strings of lights flickered on. While the festive shop windows reminded me that aside from my parents and Holland, I didn’t have anyone special to spend the frigid nights with.

  And then, as if he had a sixth sense, he called.

  I watched stupidly as my phone vibrated on my bed. It was a Saturday, and I’d been rearranging the closet to make room for my new parka—a rare splurge during another moment of weakness. It wasn’t long before the voicemail notification appeared.

  I snatched up the phone and put it to my ear. The emergence of his familiar voice gripped me.

  “Ava. . .” A long breath. “I’ve been calling for weeks and didn’t think I’d ever get through. It’s Shorty, the dog from. . . Sorry, I’m sure nothing’s happened to your memory in the time since I last saw you. Of course you remember Shorty. His time is almost up at the shelter. He has seventy-two hours left.” He sighed as my heart stopped. “Anyway, I just thought you should know. It was good to hear y—”

  And then he was cut off. I didn’t know what had been good to hear, but that didn’t matter. The reality that Shorty hadn’t found a home and would be euthanized, a possibility that’d never entered my mind, dropped like a stone in my stomach. But while I jabbed my arms through the sleeves of my new puffy jacket, internally protesting that what Theo had said wasn’t true, I couldn’t recall ever seeing anything that designated the shelter as a no-kill establishment.

  I recalled the meteorologist saying we were in for a freeze tonight, but finding my missing pair of gloves was the least of my concerns. I had to get to that shelter. I spent the commute paging through my rental agreement, and hopelessness set in when I noted the thirty-pound weight limit for pets. I’d never had to worry about it before, and now that I knew, it was too late.

  The sky was darkening by the time I disembarked, making the day even grimmer. I’d been envisioning taking Shorty for a walk, but I doubted he’d be comfortable out in the snow. Add in that he had an oncoming death-date and, well, things weren’t looking promising.

  The woman manning the counter was a stranger. She brightened marginally when I walked in, but when I explained who I was and what I was there for, her expression dimmed. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. You’re welcome to spend a little time with him, but we can’t give out extensions unless you have someone here, physically, ready to adopt him.”

  “Bu-but he’s so wonderful. And sweet. And I know he’d be perfect for the right family, if only he had a little more time. I can find someone.”

  Her smile was halfhearted. “We have dozens of animals who are wonderful and sweet, and they’re visited by plenty of nice people. But few of those people commit to fostering, much less providing a forever home.”

  I knew moping wouldn’t benefit either of us, but my head dropped between my shoulders anyway. “Okay. I’d like to keep him company for awhile, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” The girl led me through the maze of kennels, past hopeful and fearful pairs of eyes. I shivered the whole way. When Shorty came into view, curled up in his bed with his chin resting on the concrete floor, the pit in my stomach grew. He only stood when I opened his kennel gate and stepped inside.

  “Do you want to take him out? We have adoption rooms with more space. It’ll be more comfortable than this.”

  I nodded, accepted the leash she offered, and looped it around Shorty’s neck. Every step I took, while he plodded along beside me, was heavy with guilt. I forced a smile as we stepped into the turf-lined room. This was all I had to offer him—my time—and I couldn’t spend it in a grumbly mood.

  Shorty seemed content to sit beside me as I petted him, ignoring the scattered balls and ropes. I’d never been a dog person, but for him, I could become one. If not for my stupid leasing contract.

  I was contemplating how to smuggle a great Dane into a seventh-story apartment when the door to the room opened, and a man stepped in. The collar of his coat was turned up against the wind, the skin above it ruddy from the cold. He was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I sniffed while Theo nodded in greeting.

  A nod. A month apart had made us strangers.

  “Are you crying?” he said gently.

  I ducked my head and ruffled Shorty’s fur. “It was a terrible idea—walking dogs with an expiration date. I blame you for this.”

  “I’ll take full responsibility, but I disagree with it being a terrible idea.” I glanced up and took in his rounded shoulders. He knelt and offered Shorty his hand, which he sniffed.

  “Do we not let others in, or take any chances, because we know, eventually, all good things end?”

  With that one sentence, he had me thinking this wasn’t just about dogs. Theo sat, making himself comfortable against the opposite wall. Still giving me space.

  He was looking at the turf when he said, “These guys spend their days looking forward to the next fifteen-minute walk, getting pats from excited children through the chain link”—he met my gaze—“someone just keeping them company. So maybe it’s sad for us, knowing what could happen to them, but I bet Shorty’s only thinking of all the good days. The ones with you in them.”

  I wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve, splurge be damned. I would’ve laid it on the concrete floor if Shorty had needed a bed during his final days. “I guess you’re right,” I said.

  Theo had been lost in thought, but at that, he focused on me. “What?”

  “You’re right.”

  We both fell silent after that, and I was glad Theo was content to just exist in a room where our sole purpose was to devote time and attention to the innocent soul between us. The soul who was now flat on his side and snoring loudly.

  “I thought he might be scared, you know?” I said, my voice a whisper so I wouldn’t wake him. “That’s why I had to come.”

  “He’s lived a long life, been petted and adored by lots of people. I think he’s content.”

  “How long has he been in here?”

  Theo’s lips flattened. “I was trying to make you feel better.”

  “How long?”

  I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “Too long. Not many people in this city are equipped to handle a dog this big.”

  “Somebody is. There has to be someone we know who can take him. If not permanently, then long enough for us to find something else. Anything to give him a few more days.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did I say something funny? Or ridiculous?”

  “No. Really, it’s nothing.” He shrugged and shook his head at the same time, putting on an unconvincing show.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I checked our lease agreement before I came up here,” he said. “Can’t believe the limit is—”

  “Thirty pounds,” I finished.

  “Yeah. Bunch of bullshit, if you ask me. I kept trying to come up with ways . . .” He stopped himself, redirecting his gaze to where he was rubbing his knuckles.

  “Ways to sneak a hundred-pound dog up the elevator?”

  “Exactly. Although I think he’s more like one-seventy. Two-hundred, if he were healthy.”

  “Sheesh. No way could I have managed that. Especially not on the L.”

  “Coulda’ called an Uber. What do you think they’d say when they pulled up?”

  “Nothing good.” My miniscule smile faded. “We have to think of something, Theo. I can’t leave here knowing what’s gonna happen.”

  “Not every dog can be saved, Ava.” Although he was gentle with me, there was an undercurrent of firm truth in his words.

  “I know that. But look at him. He’s a senior citizen and a total gentleman. He
probably only has a few years left in this world, if that. He deserves for them to be the best years of his life.” I rubbed his velvety ear between my fingers and blinked fiercely.

  “I don’t know anyone with the resources or the square footage for that. Look at him. At this size, he would need an entire—” His voice trailed off, his eyes unfocused as he stared into space.

  “What? An entire what?”

  “Warehouse. The gym,” Theo breathed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”

  My back went ramrod straight as his meaning settled in. “The gym! Right! You basically live there, anyways.” I caught myself, remembering I had no idea where Theo was in his personal life. He could’ve already moved on—sayonara, Ava!—and the thought made my chest tighten.

  “I mean, I don’t know if you still work as much. Not that I’m implying I had anything against you working as much as you were back when we . . . you know. Just, maybe you’re in a better position now. Not a better one. A differ—”

  “Ava?” he interrupted.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re rambling.”

  “Right.” I smashed my lips shut, trying to find my filter. “What were you smiling about a little while ago?”

  His shoulders rose with his next breath. “You referred to you and me as an ‘us.’ It took me back.”

  With my jacket on, he couldn’t see the way goosebumps rose in quick succession down my arms, nor how a warm wash of heat pooled in my belly. For that, I was grateful. I had a crappy poker face, which was to say I didn’t have one at all, and I didn’t want to reveal too much just yet. But it was nice to hear those words.

  Theo moved to stand, breaking the spell. “I guess we should see about breaking the big guy outta here.” He motioned to Shorty, who’d lifted his head.

  “Yeah. Of course.” I stood too, my joints creaking in protest, and Shorty followed.

  “How about y’all stay in here, where it’s comfortable, and I’ll handle everything at the counter. I’ll have to fill out an application or something. I’m not familiar with the whole process.”

  “Okay, yeah.” I wanted to know what was happening, and to witness the moment Shorty’s freedom was signed off on, but Theo had a point. There was protocol to follow, and although this room wasn’t the most cheerful place, it was dog-friendly. That was most important.

  I threw a ball for Shorty while we waited, but he seemed content to observe. Really, I played a one-woman game of wall ball. It kept me somewhat preoccupied, although I couldn’t say the same for Shorty.

  Theo returned a short time later, and I frowned at the noticeable absence of any sign that he’d succeeded. “What happened?” I demanded.

  “We can’t take him tonight. They have to process the paperwork and check into the address I gave them. There’s the issue of not having a fenced backyard to contend with.”

  “A ‘fenced backyard’?” I echoed, standing. “He’s a two-hundred-pound elderly dog who’s on death row, we’ve agreed to save him, and they’re concerned about a backyard?”

  “They’re looking out for the welfare of the animals.” The way he said it, his tone defeated, made me think he was reciting what he’d been told.

  “How many people in this city have a backyard?”

  “It’s his size that’s the problem.”

  “He’s ancient, not to mention arthritic.” I was gesturing wildly with my hands. I only noticed because Theo caught one in mid-air and squeezed it, giving me that reassuring smile of his. He had bags under his eyes—that was more noticeable in the unforgiving strip-lighting of the room. There was no telling how many hours he’d worked today.

  “Sorry. I’m sure you said all those things already.”

  “I did.” He nodded in confirmation. “But this buys him some time. I’m a legit applicant, so he’s safe for a little while longer.” He squeezed my hand again before releasing it.

  A staff member making their rounds announced the shelter was about to close, and Theo and I walked together to return Shorty to his kennel and say our farewells.

  Chapter 28

  Ava

  It was a sorrowful departure, but at least it wasn’t good-bye forever. Thinking of the alternative brought tears to my eyes all over again, and I dabbed beneath them to clean up any stray mascara tracks.

  Theo and I ended up lingering outside the shelter when I realized I was headed back home and didn’t know where he was going.

  “I guess I’d better, uh,” I waved in the direction of the L stop.

  Theo nodded. “Mind if I walk with you? I’m headed that way, too.”

  “Oh yeah, of course. I didn’t know if you had to, you know, take care of prior obligations.” We set off, our breaths fogging between us.

  “No prior obligations. Luckily my staff is reliable, like, fifteen percent of the time, and this happens to be one of those times.”

  “Well, look at you, with your reliable staff.”

  “It’s not something I’m used to.”

  I rubbed my hands together and blew on them, trying to generate heat.

  “Where’re your gloves?” he asked, his eyebrows bunching.

  “I forgot them when I basically fled my apartment in a panic. I don’t know what I’d meant to do, I just . . . had to get here.”

  Theo removed something from his coat pocket and handed it over. A pair of gloves; plain, black, still warm from being cozied up next to his body. I slipped them on without putting up a fight. If he wanted to be chivalrous on what felt like the coldest night all winter, who was I to complain?

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled that little smile again, equally nostalgic and sweet, and watched the sidewalk as we walked.

  “Did you know I was going to be here?” I asked a block later. Theo seemed content to walk in silence, all sorts of unspoken things swimming between us, but my mind was reeling and needed something to work on after the situation with Shorty.

  “No. I mean, of course it crossed my mind.” He wobbled his head from side to side, as if that should’ve been obvious. “But I didn’t know you’d come straight out here.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. I already knew I couldn’t take him.”

  “You wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone,” he said, looking over at me. “It’s the first thing that came to my mind too.”

  It’d happened so fast, from listening to Theo’s voicemail, to my arrival at the shelter, to us being together now, dodging ice on the sidewalk on the way to the train. The events of the night slowly caught up with me. “You adopted a dog!” I grabbed his bicep, squealing. We laughed together until I realized I was voluntarily touching him for the first time since before I’d found out about everything. I dropped his arm.

  “I mean, you basically did. Hopefully everything goes through. I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “Me either. But maybe, in the next couple days, we’ll have something to celebrate.”

  I nodded, looking forward. It was weird being in his presence again and reverting so easily to the way we’d been before everything, if only for a short time.

  “What are you smiling about?” Theo said, repeating my question from earlier.

  I smiled to myself. “You said ‘we.’”

  “Habit. Not easy to break.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’ve you been?” he said, because evidently, he was braver than me.

  “Good. Busy. I kind of blew up at my boss at work and it set off this whole chain reaction of changes.”

  “Don’t tell me you were fired.”

  “The opposite, actually. I have more responsibility now. I’m writing content and heading my own branch.” My chest swelled, being able to admit that to him. For the first time in a long time I was proud of the work I was doing. Proud of myself. “I think Leigh was impressed. You know, after being angry for a while.”

  “You stood up to her?” There was a tinge of excitement in his voice as we approached the stop, and it fuel
ed my own.

  “Yeah! In the middle of the bathroom! She was crying, it was a whole thing. I don’t know, I guess it all built up and I told her literally everything I’ve held back the past three years. And she listened.”

  “Good for you.” We both scanned our cards and stopped on the platform, waiting for the oncoming train. “So what other kinds of changes were you referring to?”

  “Apparently the company had been struggling for a while, and she was taking on more and more projects and expanding into other branches to scrape together any audience she could reach. Now we’re focusing on three things—fashion, home décor, and wellness—and focusing on delivering content pertaining to those three.”

  “And I bet I know exactly which one you’re heading.” He paused. “Fashion,” we said together. We stepped onto the train and chose two seats near the exit.

  “Although I dabble in Wellness also. We all know how good I am at treating myself.”

  Theo’s eyes glittered. “Bet you’re writing all kinds of prescriptions for bath bombs and cocktails.”

  “Yep. A bubble bath with the right products can basically fix anything.”

  “So, no more relationships?”

  “No more relationships.” I dropped my gaze to my gloved hands at that reminder. The memories of countless consults and late nights haunted me enough without adding in the decimation of our relationship.

  “It wasn’t because—”

  “No,” I said quickly. “It was a natural progression of things.”

  “Good. I mean, I don’t mean good. I just know that wasn’t your preferred area.”

  “Definitely not.” The clatter of the train down the tracks filled the silence, and I watched the city streak by both above and below us. But my eyes found his reflection in the window, and I couldn’t help but stare shamelessly while he was distracted by his own thoughts.

  Stubble, well on its way to a beard, was dark along his jaw, long enough to make me think he hadn’t shaved in maybe a month. He was chewing on his lip, a lip I knew was nearly void of skin because it was one of the first things I’d looked at when I first saw him. It was a habit, and habits—as he’d said—were hard to break. The whole picture tugged on every fiber holding my heart together.