Page 36 of Whirlwind
“How big is Max?”
“Oh, God, Kit,” she says through laughter. “He’s a scrawny thing. So damn sweet, but he’s not the athletic type. His eyes got so big when Zan opened the door, he looked like Barrel fromNightmare Before Christmas.”
Zander looks smug as I laugh.
“As amusing as it was, we need to be careful that we don’t alienate him so much that Callie hides things from us,” Damian says.
“Shit, I hadn’t thought about that,” Zander says. “I was just focused on making sure nobody touches my kid sister.”
The three of them go back and forth on what the best gameplan is, trying to find one that allows Zander to feel like he’s fulfilling his duty, while also giving Callie the freedom to grow into a young woman with agency.
It’s endearing, really. I don’t know how many times I wished for a protector like Zander. A big brother, an uncle, a father who gave a shit. Someone who loved me enough to care. Or at least saw me as something other than a burden, or a tool.
Instead, I had a father that reminded me I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, talented enough. One who told me I was good for very little in life, and that I shouldn’t have dreams because they’d never come true.
Dreams are dreams because they’re fucking unattainable, he’d say. Fantasies are lies we tell ourselves, was another of his favorites. He pounded that mantra into me day after day. More days than not, I believed him. I didn’t lie in bed at night imagining a life outside of small-town Maine, not until I was old enough to recognize that he was the lie.
Luckily, that was early enough to know I had to work my ass off in high school to get scholarships and acceptance letters from enough colleges to give me choices. The first choice in my life that was mine alone.
I’ve savored the ability ever since. Even if sometimes it seems like it would be nice to surrender that to someone else, occasionally. I don’t know how to share responsibility or control. I don’t know how to share life.
Which is only another reason dating Tyson Murphy feels too daunting to ever work.
9
Tyson
“It’s only a few more days,” I say.
“I know,” Lottie replies with a long sigh. “But it’s been, like, two months since I’ve seen you play. Or even seen you at all. It’s weird and it freaks me out.”
“I’m okay, I promise.”
“I know you’re okay. Still doesn’t feel right. We haven’t gone this long without seeing each other since you did that summer intensive camp when you were fourteen.”
“Yeah, I was real lucky to stay close to home for so long. But we all knew the NHL is fickle.”
Lottie likes routine. Upset to her carefully created schedule sometimes throws her off balance. I think it’s helped that she’s living in my house, it keeps her connected to me, in a way. On top of that, I make a point of video chatting with her as often as we can. With my crazy schedule, that’s not always so easy.
“Three more sleeps, then you’ll be here. And there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Someone you want me to meet for you, or someone you want me to meetfor me?”
I laugh at her question, because yeah, I’ve tried to set her up a time or two. My sister is a hopeless romantic, but hasn’t had much luck in the love department. She never takes my suggestions, though. She says hockey players are too emotional.
She’s not necessarily wrong.
“Both, really. It’s someone I like a lot, and I think you’d be great friends with.”
“Someoneyou like a lot,” she repeats. “Is it a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not bisexual.”
“A few more, I guess. Sports are weird. There’s no way you all like to spend so much time together, especially in the gym and locker room all half naked, without some feelings happening. And that’s totally okay. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“You’re right, it wouldn’t be something shameful. As I’ve said, I can appreciate a man’s form without finding it sexually attractive. Much in the same way women find other women beautiful. My dick just doesn’t get excited by it.”
“If you say so,” she says. It’s what she always says. Her views on sexuality are very progressive and as simple as she finds attractive people attractive. She has no other precursor. “So, who is this woman?”
