Page 93 of Slap Shot Daddies

Jinx raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my vague response. "Complicated? That girl just ran out of here like she was about to fall apart, and you two look like someone just told you Santa Claus isn’t real." Her tone is sharp, probing.

Before either of us can muster a response, Bruno, our Slovak goalie, who rarely speaks, breaks the silence. "Kenzie is special,"he says, his voice gravelly and low yet carrying a weight of certainty.

He stands firm, like an immovable object, just like he does in front of the net. He looks as if he is daring us to challenge his words. "If you three can’t figure out how to make it work with her, you’re just stupid fuckers."

Reggie and I just stand there, dumbfounded, as Bruno gently tugs Jinx's hand and they disappear back inside the bar, leaving us with our thoughts. I let out a slow, frustrated breath, the tension in my chest refusing to ease.

And for the first time tonight, I start to wonder if he’s right, if we really are as foolish as he suggests.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kenzie

My eyes arepuffy and red after too many tears and a shit night of sleep.

I lift the one mug of coffee I get a day now that I am pregnant to my lips.

As I slide into the frigidly cold interior of my Jeep I turn the heater to maximum, yet its feeble warmth can’t chase away the icy grip that has begun to encircle my heart.

Finally arriving at the gravel-strewn parking lot of my clinic, my knuckles blanch as they cling desperately to the steering wheel.

Inside the clinic, a hush pervades the space, disturbed only by the constant, soft flicker of fluorescent lights overhead. I rush toward the back, where the slumbering animals spent through the night, and collapse onto the cool, unsympathetic linoleum floor beside the kennels.

Waves of sobs engulf me as I press my forehead into my knees, desperately seeking comfort in the silent, empathetic presence of the creatures around me.

"What am I going to do?" I murmur, my voice a brittle whisper that shatters under the weight of my heartache, meantsolely for the ears of those who, though unable to speak, seem to listen with gentle understanding.

Slowly, my broken cries soften into hesitant hiccups when a delicate, plaintive mew reaches my ears from the nearby kennel.

Lifting my tear-streaked face, I meet the calm, patient gaze of a little tabby mother cat, nestled cozily among her kittens. Her luminous golden eyes seem to fathom the depth of my sorrow, offering a silent solace in the quiet of the room.

"At least you have your babies," I whisper, extending a hand to caress the velvety softness of her fur through the door. In response, the mother cat purrs.

Her kittens, fragile yet content in their protective nest of warmth, nestle against her, a tender bundle of fur and comfort. A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips, laced with the sting of sadness and a dawning realization.

Tonight, I won’t come home to an empty house.

Without a moment’s pause, I reach for a soft, worn towel and carefully lift the little feline family into my arms.

Cradling them close, I swiftly gather the essentials, a litter box, nourishing food, and snug blankets, before making my way to the front desk.

I scribble a brief note for my staff, explaining that, for a time, this feline family will be my cherished companions, and with the note left behind, I step back into the crisp morning air, clutching this living bundle of solace.

The clinic will be okay without me this morning. I’m no use to anyone in this state anyway. But the kitties will help. I know it.

Crossing the threshold of my home, I immediately sense a transformation. I gently place the tabby and her kittens into the spare room, carefully converting what once was a kiddie pool into a snug haven layered with soft, fleece blankets.

In a tender display, the mother cat begins to groom her tiny brood, her lithe body curling protectively around them as if warding off the world's harsh edges.

I watch this gentle act of care, a tender scene that stokes an unfamiliar ache within me, an indeterminate blend of wonder and longing that I struggle to articulate.

Settling down on the floor beside them, I cross my legs and lean back against the cool solidity of the wall, murmuring, "Looks like it's you and me now," as my hand trails along the cat's silky fur. "You're a single mom too, huh?"

Her response, a deep, vibrating purr, resonates like a silent conversation, dispelling a little bit of the tightness lodged in my throat.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the oppressive weight of loneliness seems to lift just a fraction.

After arranging a modest dish of kibble and a bowl of water nearby, I retreat to the couch by the fireplace, enveloping myself in an oversized, plush blanket that seeps warmth into my bones.

---