Page 18 of Waiting Game

Me: Yeah. It felt so fast. One minute, he was Uncle Chuck, and the next he had a diagnosis and a pharmacy-worth of meds he had to take.

His sickness was one of the reasons he’d been so quick to double cross Gracie—money.

His liver cirrhosis and the debts he’d incurred not only at the bar but for his medical bills were how he’d gotten me to betray Gracie live on air for the entire country to see that we were pieces of shit.

Fuck, I wish I could talk to her. Wish I could let her know that Chuck was gone.

Even after what he did to her, something I was complicit in, I know she loved him as much as he loved her. That was why she quit out of the blue without ever returning to the bar in the aftermath, getting some stiff to collect her dues—her hurt was substantial.

With that checkmate move, she made a liar out of us when we told the city that her hockey-star brothers were regulars in Chuck’s, my not-so-smart uncle figuring he could strong-arm her into making that happen.

To be honest, I’m proud of her for quitting. Sheshouldhave resigned. We betrayed her and we didn’t deserve to have the chance to apologize.

But my guilt is a raw, festering wound and I’d give my left tit to talk to her. To say sorry and to mourn his passing with someone whogotmy uncle. Respected him. Didn’t think he was an old, crazy coot.

Me: TBH, I knew he had a drinking problem but he was a functioning alcoholic so it became a part of his nature.

Me: Man, that’s so fucked up.

Cole: His choices are not on YOU.

Cole: Are you going to get some rest? You should. It’s been a hard day for you.

Though I’ve already processed his words, I stare at the ceiling again.

I stare and I stare.

And I stare.

And my heart pounds.

And my lungs squeeze.

And…

Me: Do you want to come over to my place?

I send it before I can panic.

I can’t regret it. Won’t.

The blue ticks are immediate.

There’s no shame in finding solace in another person. If Chuck hadn’t passed away today, I’m honest enough with myself to reason that I’d totally have contacted Cole to hook up tonight.

Especially after having met him at the rink.

Not only is he hot post-haircut, but he’s cute—his personality. His quirks. Who wears purple cowboy boots with a lime-green Polo shirt? Cole Korhonen, that’s who. But I like a man who owns the traits that set him apart from the rest. His very nature is extravagant and that’s beyond appealing, so I can’tcomplain about his unusual wardrobe choices when it all makes up the intriguing creature I’m inviting over to my place tonight.

Cole: To your apartment… Are you sure?

I’m sure that I don’t want to be alone.

Me: Definitely

I switch to Google Maps and pull up my address.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t do this. I’d bring a guy back in an Uber to maintain some semblance of privacy, but Cole’s in the NHL. I have to figure that privacy is more important to him than it is to me. Plus, he doesn’t seem like the ‘serial killer’ type.

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