Page 51 of Love You Too

I throw my red chip into the pot, which is a tidy mound of blue, yellow, and red –over six hundred bucks in there.

“Call,” Barrington says.

I fan out my cards. “Straight flush, nine high.”

It’s a good hand. Maybe even a great hand. But there are still plenty of ways this could go wrong for me. A nine of spades isn’t that hard to beat, especially with three spades in the river.

My eyes stay fixed on our coach because I’m dying to understand what goes on inside his head. Slowly, he starts to nod. Then he tosses his cards on the table, facedown. “You got me. Nicework, Renaldi. Next game, I want to see the exact kind of resolve you just showed me here. You do that, we’ll turn our season around.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod as he gets up from the table. I’m less excited about my winnings than I am about what feels like a second chance from our coach. I need it, and I’ll take any sign I can get.

We land an hour later,and I don’t even consider going back to my place in Berkeley. I haven’t slept there in weeks. Trix insisted on watching Truman during this set of away games, and I need to relieve her of dog duty, but that’s not why I’m rushing to Napa.

I can’t even pretend it’s about my dog.

I always used to be at home on the road. Dressing in a suit to meet fans was another sign I’d made something of myself and reached hockey success. More and more, I feel like home is here in Napa, where I can be with Trix and Tru. They’re my happy place.

“Hey,” I say when I pull up and find her sitting in the rocker on her porch. She looks exhausted, a tired smile on her face, her eyes lacking their usual vitality. Juggling so many projects and working long hours on her feet are kicking her ass. I want to order her to go lie down, delegate more work to other people, and let me rub her shoulders. But I know my stubborn woman, and she would never listen to orders. Doesn’t stop me from worrying over her.

Truman is leaping in circles around me, darting this way and that so fast that I can’t even pet him.

“Someone’s happy to see you.” She laughs but doesn’t stand up.

“Someone’s happy to seeyou,” I say, shuffling up the stairs like a tired soldier. My legs ache after sitting for hours on the plane and driving for another hour. I kiss her lightly on the lips, andmy body immediately wants more of her. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” I kneel in front of her and plant a kiss on each knee, each thigh. Then I push myself higher and drink in her lips. For every knock I took on the ice, she’s the balm. “Daydreaming about your lips. Waiting to do this.”

She hums against my lips as I kiss her again, delving a little deeper before standing up with a groan. My legs are cooked.

“I’m happy to see you too.”

She picks up a big tumbler of water and sips from a straw. She offers me a half smile but doesn’t invite me inside. We still sleep at our respective houses—one more reason I need to reel myself back from feeling too much for her. So I stuff my hands in my pockets and look for my dog. Truman is now running in circles around my car, barking and jumping every few feet.

“I swear I walked him. We even went on two hikes,” Trix says.

“I believe you. He has a lot of energy to burn. I can run him for an hour, and he’ll still be ready for more after he sloshes down a bowl of water.”

She nods and looks away. Something’s up, and I have no idea what it is. If I was a more intuitive guy, maybe I could read her better, but since I haven’t got a clue, my only choice is to ask.

“You okay?”

Her eyes return to me. “What? Oh, sure. Yeah. I’m good.”

“Really? Because it seems like there’s something you’re not saying.”

“Damn.” She shakes her head.

“What?”

“Guess a girl can’t have a feeling around here without Ren the Detective figuring it out. I guess I was thinking…I dunno.” She shrugs. I wait, but she doesn’t finish the thought.

I hold up both hands. “I wasn’t trying to pry. If you say you’re good, you’re good.” I look back at my dog, who lopes up to me with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and his eyesround and glassy like a lunatic. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you home.”

Grabbing his leash from where Trix has it hanging over the pale blue painted banister of her porch, I loop it over his head and rein him in. He sits at my feet and looks up at me as if to say, “Okay, you’ve got me here. What’s next?”

“Thanks again for watching him, Trix. I’ll take him back to my place, get him out of your hair.” Turning to go, I feel a twinge of sadness in my chest that I fear will take on a life of its own and grow by the time I get home. This subdued reaction from Trix was not the welcome I was hoping for. Not after spending two nights sleeping alone in a hotel room and thinking about her. The sun’s rays lighting up her face. The soft feel of her skin under my hand. The way her eyes dance when she’s giving me shit.

But maybe I’ve been letting my heart misread her cues. Sure, we’ve been having fun and I feel the spark between us, but maybe it’s just me. To her, I’m just the baby dad, a way to turn an accident into something positive. I should rein in my feelings and get my head on straight.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Wait.”

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