Page 18 of The Perfect Snipe

I look to my left and find Mykyta a bit pale, expression uncomfortable.

Not like him. Not at all.

“You good?”

He nods but doesn’t say a word. Definitely out of character.

“Mason’s downstairs playing video games. There’s lasagna in the fridge.” Cat smiles at Mykyta. “Enough for both of you.”

“Thanks.”

We head into the kitchen where I make us each a plate of food, heating it up in the microwave, then sitting at the kitchen island. The familiar smell of herbs and cheese fills the air, momentarily distracting me from the weirdness of the evening.

“Don’t like murder documentaries?” I ask, trying to sound casual as I dig into my food.

He shoves a forkful of the cheesy, saucy lasagna into his mouth and shrugs. “Too much blood.”

My eyes narrow a bit as I chew. That's bullshit. I've seen this man get into a fistfight on the ice, his face covered in blood, laughing as if he was having the best time of his life. But I'm not a therapist, so I'm not going to push. Plus, I hate when others try to get me to talk about things, like the death of my wife, when I don't care to.

So, I'll respect my teammate the same way I'd want others to respect me and drop it. We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sound the scraping of forks against plates.

Eventually, Cat comes in biting her bottom lip, and fuck if my dick doesn’t twitch.Now is not the time.

She tucks a stray, curly hair behind her ear. “Sorry my grandmother shushed you.”

Mykyta swallows his food, then smiles. “Ah, that’s the infamous Grandma Rosa?”

She rolls her eyes, but they seem exhausted. Her shoulders slump, and she pretty much drags herself over to the counter where Mykyta and I are. “Yeah, she fell and was taken to the ER. Stella didn’t make it to dance class.”

I stop chewing and put my fork down, concern immediately replacing any lingering inappropriate thoughts. “Why didn't you call?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “For what? I had it taken care of. I mean, Stella missed class, but one time is okay.”

“Cat, it’s not about the damn dance class.” My fingers clench and unclench as I bite into the side of my cheek, trying to stave off the frustration building. “What is with you and asking for help? Why’s it such an issue?”

Mykyta's eyes bounce between Cat and me as he shovels more lasagna into his mouth, clearly trying to make himself invisible. Smart man.

Just then Rosa walks in, her presence filling the room despite her small stature.

“Mi nieta, you better not be gossiping about me.” The older woman sidles up to my teammate, who shoots her one of his signature—and totally obvious—flirtatious smiles. “And who might you be?”

“He’s a fucking pest.”

Rosa whips her head in my direction, her eyes blazing. “And you are an ornery pendejo. Leave the boy alone.”

Cat lets out a long, drawn-out groan that seems to come from the depths of her soul. She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Abuela, go sit and relax please before we head home.” Her voice is strained, like she's trying to keep it level but failing.

She turns to me, shoulders sagging slightly. Dark circles under her eyes are more pronounced now, and she runs a hand through her hair, mussing it further. “I'm going to spend the night there if that's okay?” She pauses, biting her lower lip. “Your schedule says you don't have practice until later tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, that’s—”

“Catharina, I am not a child. You do not need to babysit me.” Rosa's eyes narrow, her chin jutting out defiantly. Her small frame seems to grow larger as she squares her shoulders, matching Cat's stance. The air between them practically crackles with tension, two immovable forces facing off.

I stare at Mykyta, now feeling like he must've a moment ago. Caught in the middle of a family drama that I'm not quite sure how to navigate.

Cat's fingers press into her temples, moving in small circles, as a small sigh escapes her lips. “Abuela, please go sit inside.” Her voice is soft, almost pleading.

My teammate pushes his chair back with a scrape against the floor. He stands, stretching slightly before offering his arm to Rosa. “Come, pretty lady. Let's go finish watching that show.” His voice drops to a whisper, though it's still loud enough for us to hear. “Let these children finish talking. You know, they were bickering like a married couple right before you came in.”

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