Page 49 of The Sweet Spot

“The second she brings Ryan his breakfast, I have to go home and change. I feel like she’s going to know.”

“I think you’re worrying about nothing,” I said, taking her coffee away. The last thing she needed was more caffeine. “But if you do go home, you should bring some clothes here. You know, just in case you need them. I’m sure I can find you an empty drawer somewhere.”

I tried to say it casually, but by the way, her big brown eyes were staring at me, I’d failed miserably.

“Oh,” was all she mustered.

“I freaked you out. Let me try that again. You spend a lot of time here, and you’ll probably be spending more. I’m not asking you to move in. Just keep some extra stuff for a rainy day. Is that better?”

She blew out a relieved breath. “Yeah, much better.”

She got back to work on breakfast, and when she set my food in front of me, she started on a new subject.

“Thanksgiving is less than two weeks away, and I thought we’d celebrate it at my condo and invite along Tangi and Ethan, Jill and Jeremy? I thought I might ask Delia and Ryan as well if they don’t have plans. Any objections?”

“Thanksgiving was in October.”

“American Thanksgiving.”

I was just playing with her, and when I chuckled, she slapped my arm. “No big deal for me,” I said, although spending extended periods of time with Ethan outside of the Kodiaks wasn’t on my to-do list.

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”

As I ate, she fired off a text. She even created a group chat because I got the text too. It was sad to say, but I’d never been the type to attract a lot of friends. I had a few friends back home I trusted, and a few guys on the team I occasionally hung out with, but I kept my circle small. It went back to my early hockey days, when my dad managed to piss off the parents of all my potential friends, giving them critiques they didn’t ask for. I was well aware, even as a kid, that everyone hated him. So instead of making tons of friends, I spent incredible amounts of time honing my skills and keeping to myself. Dad enrolled me in every hockey camp he could all summer long, and I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t like I had a ton of friends to hang out with like the other people my age, so it kept me busy and away from him.

Hanging out with Wolseley had been an eye-opening experience. Everyone loved her. Everywhere she went, people remembered her, wanted to talk to her, invite her to things. I was pretty sure that if she’d had more free time, she’d be scoping out Vancouver with all her friends. That didn’t even include Tangi and Jill. I wanted a piece of that, and just by being included in her group chat, I had a bit of it, and it made my insides warm. Maybe being alone for so long, keeping everything to myself, controlling every aspect of my life while trying not to think too hard about it, hadn’t been the best way to cope.

“If Delia comes, I may ask her to help with the turkey. The thought of prepping it gives me the creeps,” Wolseley said more to herself than me. “A headless creature that gave up its life because someone decided one day that turkeys should be associated with Thanksgiving. I can’t even bring myself to stuff one. It’s all so gross.”

At least she didn’t judge me when I ate meat. Or, at least, I didn’t think so.

She pulled out her notebook and began scribbling things down. Delia showed up moments later to grab Ryan’s breakfast. They had a quick conversation that I didn’t stick around for. I needed to get to the rink.

Coach Anthony had us go through a shorter practice, which I appreciated, but then we got a pep talk about our losing streak. I could see some of the guys weren’t paying attention, and I made a mental note of it. Once guys started disrespecting the coach, it was a downhill slide, and we couldn’t let that happen. We were a good team that could easily make a run in the playoffs, but if we let the bad apples infect the room, we were done.

As I got ready to leave the rink, I checked my phone. I ignored the text from Dad, asking about the losing streak and if Coach Anthony needed to be fired. I then opened the group chat to see a slew of messages. Everyone had accepted Wolseley’s dinner invitation, even Delia and Ryan. I realized I hadn’t replied, so I sent along my RSVP. I put my phone back in my pocket and smiled. Wolseley was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But I had one huge worry, the same worry I had every time a woman came into my life, and it was how my parents were either going to drive her away or bully me into breaking up with her. This time, I was determined that neither would happen.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Wolseley

Once Brandon left for the rink, and I had time to myself before Delia returned from deliveries, I sent Jill a text.

You busy tonight? Need to talk. Good things!

It bothered me that I didn’t feel comfortable enough to text Tangi as well. I felt a need to hide whatever Brandon and I had from her, and I wasn’t sure why. Probably because I didn’t think she’d be happy for me. She certainly hadn’t approved of it, not that I’d brought it up to her since that day at Jill’s. Nope, I only had Jill to talk to about this, at least for now.

I’ll be home around six. Not going to the game tonight.

Jill went to a lot of the home games, sometimes with Tangi, sometimes with other Kodiaks top brass. She’d invited me many times, but with work, I was usually too exhausted for a night out, but today I was wired. All the coffee didn’t help.

Delia came by, and we got to making lunch, along with prep for dinner and the late-night meal. While it should have been a cinch to cook for two guys, the fact they had varied diets and requests made shopping a little more difficult. I also had to factor in that Ryan wouldn’t eat his food immediately, so I had to make sure it was as fresh as possible when he got it, and that meant some foods were never served to him. Potatoes made it to that list. Rarely did I make them for him because I liked them to be as fresh as possible when served warm.

“Thank you for the American Thanksgiving invite,” Delia said, slicing up some bell peppers. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to one.”

“There is a first for everything, but I do have one request. I need your help to make the turkey. I refuse to stuff the thing or even touch it if I don’t have to. But I’ll do all the rest. I feel crappy asking you to do this because I’ve invited you as a guest, but this would be a huge favor to me.”

“Of course,” Delia said with a laugh. “After all you’ve taught me, I would be happy to do it for you.” She paused for a second as a pensive expression passed over her face. “I’ve never asked you how long you’ve been a vegetarian and how you decided to become one.”

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