Page 21

As Thunder and I make our way down to the street, I realize this is the first time I’ve ever walked a dog.

When we get outside the building, Thunder looks up at me in confusion. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, dude. Lead the way.”

Evidently, that worked, because Thunder launches to the west, dragging me with him. The walk takes much longer than I anticipated, due to stopping at every pole along the way so Thunder can sniff and then mark his territory. Didn’t the neighbor say she had just walked him? Where is he storing all of this fluid?

“You can’t have any more pee in there,” I murmur as he squats, but then I realize what he’s actually doing. “Shit. I’m supposed to clean this up, aren’t I?”

“You better clean it up, young man! This is a nice block,” a woman shouts.

I wave at her. “I got it.”

I don’t got it.

I should have asked more questions. I volunteered to walk Thunder to give Becca a bit of time to herself. I could tell she was overwhelmed. Clearly, I handle spontaneity better than her, because I’ve always rolled with the punches of life. But her world has really been thrown a curveball with the death of her father. Then she’s suddenly married to me. She has a trial-by-fire into the hockey WAG lifestyle, and now I’m asking her to move in with me.

So she gets a few minutes without me breathing down her neck.

“The bags are on the leash!” Jesus, old lady. I would have figured it out.

“Yeah, okay. I’m good.”

“No, you’re not,” she cackles.

Yeah, I’m grossed out that I’m going to be picking up dog poop with only the thinnest pieces of plastic known to man separating it from touching my skin.

Once I get the bag pulled out of the odd contraption Becca has attached to the leash, I decide to double — no, triple — bag it as a precaution. Sue me, this is my first time. I’m a dog shit virgin.

Thunder gives me one hell of a side-eye as I grimace while cleaning up his mess. “Did you eat a whale, my guy? Why is there this much?”

He sighs, completely over me. Trust me, I get it.

Carefully tying a knot in the bag, I look around for a trash can to dump Thunder’s droppings. Spotting one across the street, we jog over to get rid of the nastiness. Thunder continues west, away from Becca’s apartment, and as I’m about to pull him to turn around, my phone dings with a text. Hoping it’s Becca, I’m only slightly disappointed when it’s my group text with the guys.

I’ve managed to master the art of texting while walking, and while adding in a leashed dog is a new challenge, I open the group text to see what shenanigans my teammates are up to.

Levi

I think we should break this text into the marrieds and the non-marrieds.

Nally

I agree.

Daws

Why?

Nally

Because all you guys do is talk about your wives and babies and shit like that.

Daws

It was literally just me married until yesterday. Well, technically Santzy was in the group chat for a bit, until someone pissed him off and he left.

Me

YOU pissed him off, Daws. You did that. I tried to add him back in, but he wouldn’t let me.

Daws

Me? No. It couldn’t be.

Nally

Oh it was totally you. You reminded him that you hit on his wife before he was with her.

Levi

In Gabe’s defense, he teased Luca about that more than once, but that last time Luca decided enough was enough.

Me

It weirds me out that you refuse to call anyone by their nicknames, Levi. I really should share YOUR nickname.

Levi

I will end you.

Nally

Still can’t believe Jax knows it but no one else does.

Daws

It has to be something good.

Levi

ANYWAY. How is married life treating you, Jacob?

Me

No. You don’t get to call me Jacob. Only my wife gets to call me that.

Nally

Ooooooo, his WIFE! Look at him being all possessive and married.

Daws

Just wait, Nally. You’ll find out when you meet your person. It’s different. Any of you piss off Cassie, I’ll end you, too.

Nally

Dude. That’s my sister you’re talking about. I piss her off daily.

Daws

Yeah, she won’t let me murder you. Something about sibling love and that your parents would be upset. I don’t know, man. Not sure what she’s thinking.

Nally

Nice. I feel the love. Hey, Cass said you guys were getting Chinese tonight from that restaurant we all love. You got enough for me?

Daws

I swear to God, Nally, if you show up here for food AGAIN I will not be held responsible for my actions.

Levi

Can you two take the lovers quarrel into a private text exchange? The rest of us don’t need to see this.

Me

Speak for yourself. It’s like a soap opera. Don’t take away my fun, Levi. My show is on.

Daws

You’d really think it was a soap opera if you knew what Nally told his sister last week.

Nally

GOD DAMMIT IS NOTHING SACRED BETWEEN A brOTHER AND SISTER??

Daws

Not when I know exactly how to get secrets out of my woman.

Nally

Ew.

Levi

I stand by my original statement for separate group texts.

Daws

Nope. I enjoy terrorizing everyone in here way too much. In fact …

(Daws added Luca Santo to the group.)

Santzy

NO.

Me

Come on, Santzy. Betcha don’t even know I got married this week.

Santzy

The fuck? Seriously?

Daws

This is why you have to stay in the group text, asshole. You miss very important information.

Santzy

We define “important” differently, Daws. You shared a picture of a dirty diaper a while ago.

Daws

I had to ask someone if it was normal!

Santzy

None of us had kids at that time.

Levi

That was an overshare.

Me

I found it fascinating. Crazy how a little baby can drop that much shit.

Santzy

No more diaper pictures. No pics of weird moles or growths anywhere. If you wouldn’t ask your parents a question, don’t ask it in here. Those are my stipulations for staying in the group text.

Daws

Party pooper.

Daws

What about pictures of Mackenzie covered in food, finger paint, or any kind of goo?

Santzy

I’ll allow it.

Daws

(sends picture)

Levi

For fuck’s sake Daws! Is that shit?

Daws

It is.

Daws

I didn’t break any of Luca’s rules. It wasn’t a dirty diaper picture, and he said I could send pics if Kenz was covered in goo.

Santzy

I hate you.

Daws

No you don’t.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” My head pops up as I hear Becca’s sweet voice. “You were gone so long I was getting worried.”

“Sorry. Thunder had to mark every surface he could find, and then I got caught up in a group text with some of the guys on the team. Did you get everything that you want to bring to my place packed up ? Wait. Our place.”

Becca giggles. “You’ve really gone all in on this.”

“I have. I’m the kind of person that embraces life. Once I’m settled on something, I’m all in. Why half-ass your way through life?”

“I guess, it’s just …” she trails off.

“What?”

Becca sighs. “It’s hard for me to go all in with things. I keep thinking of every worst-case scenario. It seems like we’re moving at warp speed, and that scares me.”

I pull her into my arms, and she burrows her face into my neck. “I can understand that. I want you to trust me, that I’ll never consciously try to hurt you. Take it to heart when I say that I’m playing the long game here. This isn’t just a blip on the radar. But if it freaks you out to think about the future, how about we just take it day by day?”

She nods against me, her hand drifting down to pet Thunder’s head. “Will it offend you if I keep my apartment for the time being?”

A little, but I’m not telling her that. I’m trying to be patient. “If that’s what you need to give you some peace, then keep your apartment. But you’re sleeping in my bed.”

She laughs again, and the sound is the most beautiful melody. “Okay.”

“Wow.” Becca’s eyes are enormous as she looks around my apartment. I don’t have the biggest place on the team, but it’s more than enough space for me and the pigs. Even adding Becca and Thunder to the mix won’t be a problem. Hell, they could both have their own rooms — which absolutely will not happen, because I meant what I said about Becca sleeping with me — and we’d still have extra space.

“Woah,” she says, as she looks at a prominent wall featuring bookshelves and most of my cowboy hats. Once a Texan, always a Texan. “Do you wear those often?”

“Not as much anymore,” I admit. “It’s more that I like to collect them. Each hat has a memory attached to it. They all matter to me.”

Becca glances at me with a smile. “I like that. You’re sentimental. That’s cute.”

“I’m not cute,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest in mock anger. The move makes my muscles pop, and Becca’s eyes immediately drop. My lips twitch as I try to contain the responding grin. “Cowboy hats are manly. Sophisticated. They’re making a statement.”

“Okay, Mr. Cowboy,” she laughs. “Settle down. I like the hats.”

“Good.” I’d already planned to take the hats down. Now that Becca is here, I want a more stylish space that showcases both of us. A wall of cowboy hats ain’t it.

“This view is phenomenal!” she gushes, stepping up to the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the northwest. “I can totally visualize drinking my morning coffee on your balcony. I bet watching sunsets is amazing, too.”

“They are pretty spectacular,” I answer simply. I want to correct her again. It’s not my balcony, it’s our balcony. Our apartment. Our bedroom.

Patience, Jax.

“You want the dollar tour?” I ask, and she nods gleefully. I look warily at Thunder, who has parked himself outside the pigs’ door, his nose smashed against the slim opening. “He can’t open doors, can he?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him try,” Becca answers as Thunder scratches at the door. She looks at me with a laugh. “Probably best to put a lock on it, though. Just in case.”

“I can ask the building superintendent if they have doorknobs with locks. It never occurred to me until right now that none of my secondary bedrooms have doors that lock,” I muse.

I make a mental note to ask the building staff about a locking mechanism. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the handiest guy out there. I don’t know my way around cars, and my tool set was a gift from someone years ago. I’m not even sure I’ve opened it. My expertise is focused on a hockey rink, and a farm. I may not be able to fix a broken dishwasher, but I can hold down a calf that needs to get an ear tag. That has to count for something, right?

I show Becca the kitchen and spare bedrooms, then the small office I rarely use. Her eyes light up at the space, and she shyly asks if she can use it for creating long range weather forecasts. She explains that she does a quarterly video where she goes into detail about how each weather model works, as well as explaining different weather terms like the jet stream and El Nino, which is a climate pattern when ocean temperatures are unusually warm around Christmas. She tells me that she makes dozens of visits to local elementary schools every year, helping kids learn some terminology, and not to be afraid of some of the scarier weather phenomena.

Becca’s eyes sparkle as she launches into a monologue about women in STEM fields, and how less than ten percent of chief meteorologists in the country are female. She’s determined to spotlight the field, and I love the fire and tenacity I can hear in her voice.

My girl is one smart cookie.

“I’ve sort of taken over this closet, but I’ll make room for your things. In all honesty, I didn’t expect to be coming home from a road trip with a wife, or I’d have had half the closet ready for you. I mean, I asked the gal who checks on my pigs to move some of my clothes, but she wasn’t available.” I’m somewhat chagrined as I tell Becca this, as if either of us could have predicted our whirlwind marriage.

“What?” Becca says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “I bet you ask women to marry you before every away game.”

“Only the chief meteorologists,” I quip, and Becca beams. “The en suite bathroom is through this door.”

Becca gasps when she sees an enormous soaking tub and steam shower in the large gray bathroom. “I’d have moved in here just for that tub.”

“Feeling the love here, Spitfire,” I remark dryly. She shoots me a glance and lightly slaps my arm.

“I haven’t had a soaking tub since I left home. Baths are my favorite kind of self-care. I could never justify the expense to get an apartment with one though.”

“This one is all yours. I use it occasionally, but only if my legs are really sore and tight.” The thought of sharing a bath with Becca, though, makes me rethink my stance on baths.

“I can’t wait to get some bath bombs, bubble bath, and Epsom salts!” she exclaims gleefully, clapping her hands together with a giant smile covering her face.

“Glad that makes you happy, baby,” I say quietly. Clearing my throat, I motion for her to walk out of the bathroom. “You ready to meet my girls?”

“Your girls?” she asks quizzically.

“Yup.”

“Should I be concerned? Nervous?”

“Concerned? No. You’re the top girl. Nervous? Also no. As long as you bring them fresh produce, they’ll love you.”

Stopping in the kitchen, I notice that the pet sitter brought some more vegetables, and grab the last portion of spinach. As soon as I crinkle the bag, all six guinea pigs start squealing. Becca lets out her own surprised squeal, then giggles at herself. “Noisy bunch.”

“If you think they’re noisy now, you may be unprepared for the sound when we’re in the room. I had contractors come out to add insulation around that room because the neighbor upstairs complained. I had no idea the sound carried that much.”

Thunder waits patiently at the guinea pig door, and he jumps up hopefully as we approach. “Sorry, Thunder. Not yet.”

“Is it just me, or is he pouting?” Becca whispers, and I look down to see the saddest expression I’ve ever seen on a dog. Thunder whines as his front paws tap impatiently against the hardwood floors. Poor guy. But I’m sure the pigs can smell him already, and I’d like them to acclimate a little before we have a face-to-face introduction.

“Yeah, I’d say he is,” I respond as I carefully open the door. After Becca enters, I quickly move into the room, shutting the door behind me.

All six guinea pigs look at us for a moment, seemingly surprised at the new addition, before all hell breaks loose.

Lily screams her cute little head off.

Rose backs up to the side of a cage, kicking the bedding out as fast as she can.

Daffodil takes off down one of the tubes too quickly, and a piece comes unhooked, trapping her against the exit.

Bluebell is in one of the wheels peeing, and it’s flying out the back to hit Daisy, who just stares at me and squeals. Daisy is the eater of the bunch. She’s quite a bit bigger than the rest of the girls, and she will bum-rush them to get to food first.

And my littlest pig, Dahlia, runs around a track in one of the cages, then takes off down a section of tubes. The vet said she has anxiety, and prescribed medication.

After the third time she bit me, I gave up on the meds. So what if my guinea pig is anxious? Surrounded by this chaos, I can understand her feelings.

“Wow,” Becca breathes, her eyes wide as she takes in the chaos. “This is quite the setup you’ve got here.”

I shrug, scratching the back of my neck as I try to remain nonchalant. Hardly anyone knows about my pigs. I get it. I’m a big, tough hockey player, yet I have a room devoted to six guinea pigs. Quite the contrast. “You’re probably thinking it’s really weird, huh.”

“No,” Becca replies simply. “Honestly, I think it’s cute. Have you always had guinea pigs as pets?”

“I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up,” I admit sheepishly. “But I’ve always had a thing for guinea pigs. I only planned on getting one, but …”

“Now you have your own personal guinea pig harem,” Becca jokes. “What are their names?”

I spend the next few minutes telling my wife all about my fascination with guinea pigs, how the floral names they have are not for any reason, and how I come into the room each morning to have a cup of coffee to watch them. It’s oddly peaceful listening to them chirp and squeal.

“When you’re on away trips, will I need to do anything specific?”

“Oh, well, uh, no?” I respond, staring at her in confusion. “I have a pet sitter.”

Becca cocks her head to the side, studying me. “But if I’m here, I can take care of them. Unless you don’t want me to?”

“I guess I assumed you wouldn’t want to.”

She turns her head back to watch as Daffodil kicks the tube back into place, successfully making her way back into one of the cages. Becca smiles softly. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up either. It’s part of the reason why I was so thrilled to get Thunder. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to take care of the pigs.”

I nod, suddenly overcome with emotion. Becca is probably only the fifth or sixth person who knows about my pigs, and I certainly wouldn’t trust anyone else with them. Somehow I know Becca will treat them exactly as I do.

“Can I — can I hold one?” she whispers hesitantly.

“Yeah, darlin’. Sit in the chair.”

I grab Bluebell, since she’s running back and forth in the tube, and she’s the least likely to lose her shit and scare the hell out of Becca. I carefully place Bluebell into Becca’s cupped hands, and watch as she studies my quietest pig. “I’ve honestly never held a guinea pig before, and I had no idea their fur was so soft.”

“Some aren’t as soft, but Bluebell’s is.”

Becca peers up at me, her eyes wide. “I think she just peed on me.”

“Oh, fuck,” I say with a wince. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“Maybe she’s marking territory. Now I’m definitely her momma,” she says with a breathy giggle.

Fuck me.

This woman never ceases to amaze me.