Page 13 of Interference

Anthony: The clinic was busy, so the appointment ran late.

That last part wasn’t true, of course, and I felt guilty for the little white lie. I just wasn’t sure how to explain Wyatt to him.

Sometimes I thought Simon was doing this to punish me. Since I’d been the one to suggest we talk regularly even while we lived apart, he’d thrown it in my face any time I wasn’t available.

“If it’s really that important to you,” he’d told me one night, “then you’d make time.”

Except I did make time. I’d only had to bail a handful of times, and I’d always had—I thought—good reasons.

But for as much as this separation was supposed to give us space and a chance for us to fix our relationship, he sure resisted and resented the shit out of everything I suggested to help us. I’d been trying like hell to find every possible way to bridge the gap between us, but he’d either shoot down the idea, blame me for the gap, or both.

It was exhausting.

I wondered if he knew how anxious it made me, knowing we’d be hashing this out in the car in the morning. That it fucked with my sleep and left me wound up and distracted, none of which boded well for practicing or playing well.

If we let the cracks show, we’re both fucked.

Well, it was what it was, at least for tonight. I knew when I was being shut out, and I didn’t feel like trying to fight with him via text. One way or another, we’d discuss this in the car on the way to practice. Couldn’t fucking wait.

Elsewhere in the house, a door opened, and the floor creaked. Wyatt had been to the laundry room once, so he was probably heading back down there.

Except, no—footsteps came up the hall. Nails clicked, so Lily was probably coming too.

I cleared my throat, turned my phone facedown on the counter, and busied myself making a cup of coffee.

A moment later, Wyatt and Lily came into the kitchen. Lily only had her collar on now, and she trotted over to where Bear and Moose’s food dishes had been. Fortunately, I’d predicted that much, and I’d moved their dishes onto one of the islands, which was where both cats were now perched.

Lily found a couple of stray kibbles on the floor, though, and crunched on them.

Wyatt chuckled. “That’s cat food, you know.”

Still chewing, she looked up at him and wagged her tail. He just rolled his eyes and laughed.

And I… caught myself staring at him.

I’d been told sometimes that I cleaned up good, but Wyatt? Wow. And he wasn’t in a suit or a tux—he was just wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of shorts—but he looked damn good now that he’d trimmed his beard. Without the jacket, I had a much better view of broad shoulders and a couple of tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. There was one on his left calf, too. Something military, I thought. Which might’ve also explained why his lower right leg was a prosthetic.

Fortunately, I realized I was staring before he did, and I pulled my gaze away. “Uh, do you want some coffee?” I gestured with my cup.

He blinked. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. Coffee would be great.” Unaware of what he was doing to my balance, he smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And, um… Everything.” He pushed out a breath. “This is the best I’ve felt in ages.”

“Don’t mention it.” I pulled a mug down from the cupboard. “Any preference?” I tipped my head toward the carousel of Keurig cups. “I don’t have anything really fancy, but—”

“It’s hot and it’s coffee. Doesn’t need to be fancy. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

French roast it was, then. After he’d added half a spoonful of sugar, we moved into the living room. He sat on the sofa. I took one of the recliners.

Wyatt cradled the cup between his hands, probably to let it cool. He looked around the room, and when his gaze landed on Lily, that soft smile came back to life. “Too bad they don’t get along, isn’t it?”

The cats had moved onto the cat tree, and Lily wandered up to check it out. Moose was sleeping and didn’t stir. Bear had been bathing, and as the dog approached, he was still sitting back with his rear leg sticking up in the air, but he was paying attention to her now. He watched with wide eyes as she sniffed the edge of his platform. He reached for her with a giant paw, and I cringed a little, afraid he’d scratch her.

Before I could intervene, though, he just gave her floppy ear a gentle bat. Lily shook her head. Bear batted at her ear again. She woofed softly—an obviously playful sound even if her tail hadn’t been wagging—and Bear whapped her on the head. She woofed again, play bowing on the floor and then coming back up to egg him on.

“Yeah,” I said into my coffee. “Too bad they don’t get along.”

Wyatt was watching them and smiling, but the expression was a little sad. “She doesn’t get much social interaction these days.”

“Do service dogs socialize much?”

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