Page 63 of Interference

“We don’t need to bring it all in now,” Anthony said, the first words spoken since we’d left. “It’ll stay cold out here.”

Simon and I both grunted our agreement, and we each grabbed a couple of cases before heading up the driveway.

This house wasn’t as big or opulent as theirs, but it was definitely big and opulent. An enormous brick façade with white trim. A four-car garage that almost seemed too small for the rest of the house. A front porch that could’ve comfortably sat a dozen people with room to spare.

The yard was huge and flawless, too. A rolling lawn that probably took hours to mow. Perfectly manicured landscaping all along the driveway and the front of the house. Huge evergreens towering over the roof from the backyard.

I met our hosts as we came in and took off our shoes. After we’d put down the soda cases in the kitchen, Russell, one of the hosts, gestured at Lily. “Does your dog need anything? A water bowl or food dish?”

“Oh, um. I brought her a water bowl, if you don’t mind me filling it up?” I unclipped the portable dish from the side of her harness.

“I don’t mind at all. Come with me.” He showed me into the kitchen, and we found a spot where I could put her water down and it wouldn’t be disturbed. Lily took a quick drink, and then we headed back in to join everyone else.

I was immediately swept into the center of a whirlwind of introductions. There was no way in hell I was keeping everyone’s names straight, though I’d sure try.

I was on guard when I realized how many kids were here. I liked kids, but they didn’t always understand how service dogs worked. I mean, neither did adults, but kids could be a bit more forward with dogs, yelling or shoving their hands in the dog’s face.

To my surprise, though, while a few of the kids definitely noticed Lily, they all kept a respectful distance.

When a particularly young child—maybe two or three? I couldn’t tell—called out, “Doggy!” and started toddling toward Lily, her dad quickly swept her up.

“You can look at the doggy,” he told her. “But see her clothes? She’s busy. She can’t play right now.”

The child scowled as only little kids could do, in that angry and intense way that meant the universe had displeased them.

“Why don’t you head downstairs.” The dad put the kid down and gently nudged her toward the basement stairs. “They’re putting on a movie!” That was enough to redirect her attention, and she left with her father on her heels.

Her mom looked at me and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. She loves dogs.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” I returned the smile. “I do, too, so I get it. And, um—I appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

She left to help corral the kids downstairs, and I met Anthony’s gaze. “I didn’t realize everyone here was so conscientious about service dogs.”

He sipped his soda and chuckled. “That’s probably the one silver lining of the spouse who brought that badly trained ‘support dog’ to everything. She sent out emails and loudly lectured everyone about not distracting her dog, not petting him, keeping their kids away from him…” Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “It was totally an attention grab in her case, but the stuff about letting the dog work stuck.”

“Should I send her a thank-you note?” I asked dryly.

He snorted. “I dare you. Anyway, come on—I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”

Oh, fuck. There were more people?

There were, and that didn’t even take into account those who were still arriving. A lot of their teammates had traveled home for Thanksgiving, but there were still quite a few in town, not to mention members of the staff. Add in the partners and kids, and Russell had a full house.

Fortunately, Anthony had been right that we wouldn’t all be crowded into one place. There was an enormous table set up in the dining room and another in the family room, plus a kids’ table, so we’d be split up during dinner. In the meantime, people spread out into the various rooms of the house to watch football, socialize, snack, and entertain the kids.

We eventually drifted apart as we fell into conversations with different people. I lost sight of Anthony, but I wasn’t worried. I’d also lost sight of Simon, which was fine by me. In fact, I was pretty sure the two of them had gone into the garage with some of their teammates to shoot pucks. They were still trying to present the illusion of a united front, so Anthony was sticking close to Simon. As much as I would’ve liked to stay close to Anthony as well, I was more than happy to chill in here with a few other people and stay the hell away from Simon.

But hanging out here in the living room turned out to be less than ideal, too, because I quickly learned two things:

First, the garage shared a wall with the living room, and that wall was the one pucks slammed into when they missed whatever they’d been aimed at—a net, I assumed.

Second, a puck striking a wall or something metal hit just the right note to rouse some of my demons.

The voices through the wall didn’t help, either. It was probably cheering and shit-talking, but with just enough distance and drywall between us to muffle the actual words, it was hard to distinguish exuberance from anger. And unseen, angry voices punctuated by sudden, sharp noises…

As subtly as I could, I took some slow, deep breaths. Pucks hitting the wall didn’t actually sound like bullets or bombs, but the sudden loud, sharp bangs still tickled those mental tripwires I spent my life tiptoeing over. Same with the voices—a small group of trash-talking hockey players didn’t actually sound like angry insurgents, but combined with the puck noises, it fucked with my senses.

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