Page 122 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

And I head back to my room, grab my phone, and find Victor’s name.

CHAPTER 39

GABE

This is fucking ridiculous. I cannot believe I’m right back here again.

I shift the gel ice pack on my shoulder and stretch my legs along the sofa.

No point going to bed yet, even though it’s now almost two a.m. I’m too furious about this whole situation to be able to sleep.

Not furious with Wyatt. As much as I’d like to be able to blame someone and have a focus for my anger, I’ve seen the replays and he did nothing wrong. It was an accident that could have happened to anyone. I’m just frustrated as fuck that it happened to me and reinjured my shoulder that had just fucking healed.

I’d hoped the third episode in a NatGeo series about capybaras would work its magic and bring my heart rate and stress hormones down to a normal level. But no such luck.

It’s the first time capybaras have failed me—a testamentto the total fucking shit show my life has turned into. Or, rather, that I have managed to turn it into.

The reinjuring of my shoulder might have been an accident, but the Natalie stuff sure as hell isn’t. That one is entirely my fault. And those two things are now swirling around my head in one giant cyclone of fucked-uppery.

But maybe the reason the capybaras didn’t do the trick for me tonight is because I was distracted from their amazing ability to stay underwater for five minutes at a time by thoughts of the one shit show in my life I might actually be able to do something about.

Wyatt.

Maybe calling him wouldn’t be the worst idea.

He’ll think I’m blaming him for what happened tonight. And maybe I should tell him I know it wasn’t his fault. And maybe apologize again for slamming him against the lockers that time. Maybe he never even read that email I sent. Maybe he just deleted it.

But no doubt he wouldn’t take my call. What he said to Natalie is a testament to what he still thinks of me. But I could leave a voicemail. Andmaybehe might listen to it.

I know for sure Natalie would say it was worth a try.

Yeah, you know what, fuck it. If I can’t fix any of the other things I’ve wrecked, maybe I can fix this one.

And maybe I can have a friend other than my parents.

But I will still give him hell over what he said about me to Natalie though.

I slide the ice pack off my shoulder and drop it onto the floor as I reach for my phone.

Before I touch it, it rings and makes me jump. Jesus, who would call at this time of the night?

Definitely not my parents. They were both pretty tipsy on the Italian-night Chianti when I spoke to them earlier.

I think I managed to put their minds at ease about my fall. At least enough for Dad to tell me, in great detail and with slightly slurred words, about the incredible tiramisu they had for dessert. Except he kept calling it tirra-moo-see.

Anyway, who the hell is this now?

I flip the phone over.

Well, fuck me sideways. It’s Wyatt.

“Glad you called,” I say without giving him time to speak. “I was just think?—”

“Dude, can you let me in?”

“What? Let you in where?”

“Your building. And up to your place?”

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