Page 21 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SYDNEY
“You sure you’ll be okay?” Teddy paced in front of me, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
I sat on the couch, the puppy in my lap, trying not to laugh at him. “Positive.”
He stopped moving to look at me. “I’m serious, Syd. He eats at exactly six o’clock. Not five forty-five, not six fifteen.”
“Nine. Got it.”
“This is serious.” He scowled.
“Is it?” I cocked my head, biting back a smile.
“You are watching my child.”
I buried my nose in the fresh puppy scent. “Guardian prefers Auntie Sydney anyway. Go on, Ted. Get out of here.”
“We’re going to be late for warm-ups, bro,” Rowan said as he and Ryder waited impatiently by the door. Ryder didn’t look at me; he barely had in the two days since the park.
For my part, I couldn’t stop watching him. Even as my brother lectured me on caring for a dog. Even as my phone rang beside me, Jameson’s name flashing on the screen.
I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t. He did this—ending things and then calling when he was bored. We’d been through it so many times it was embarrassing.
Ryder pulled Teddy’s arm. “Sydney can take care of a puppy.”
Oh, so he did remember my name. I rolled my eyes. “Get out of here so Guardian and I can have some aunt bonding time.”
With a long look, Teddy finally turned away and followed his teammates out the door. It was the last game before Thanksgiving—a Thanksgiving we were apparently spending at Sullivan’s. Ryder and I had decided it was best to wait until after their post-Thanksgiving road trip to try for another video.
I sighed, looking at Guardian. “Just you and me, pup.”
There was a knock on the door, and I froze. Who the hell came to someone’s door without warning anymore? As a millennial woman, I was entitled to the anxiety swooping through me that could be brought on by one of two things:
A ringing phone and a knock on the door .
Fuck, I was going to have to talk to whoever it was. What if it was some religious person trying to convert me? Or worse, a neighbor needing a cup of sugar. Did people do that anymore? Stop by their neighbor’s house?
“What do we do, buddy?” I whispered.
Guardian’s only answer was a high yip.
“Stupid dog, use your words.” I didn’t mean that. Dogs were not stupid. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The knock came again.
As if the universe just wanted to fuck with me, my phone rang. But this time, it wasn’t Jameson. It was Dad.
Suddenly, whoever stood on the other side of that door—Bible thumper or not—was much more appealing. I set Guardian down, and he ran to the door, barking his tiny head off.
Deep breath. One. Two. I pulled open the door, fully prepared to listen to scripture and let them tell me all about their church because I wouldn’t be able to find the words to tell a stranger I wasn’t interested.
But it wasn’t a friendly scripture-reading stranger on the other side.
“Dad.”
“Sydney.” He looked past me, not showing an ounce of surprise to see me here. “Is your brother here?”
I gripped the edge of the door, blocking the entrance. “No. Game.”
“Ah.” He rocked back in his loafers, sticking his hands in the pockets of his thousand-dollar suit. “So, it’s just you.”
“Sorry.” I didn’t know why I was apologizing, but I’d done it since I was barely a teenager, facing my mother’s resentment and my father’s guilt .
“No, I didn’t mean…” He blew out a breath. “It’s good to see you. Glad you’re in town.”
“Yeah, you know… brother lives here and all.”
He nodded.
“I’ll tell him you stopped by.” I started to shut the door, but he put a hand on it.
“No, wait. I came to…” He looked nervous, which was very unlike him. “Do you and Theodore want to spend Thanksgiving with me?”
I lifted one brow. It was an invitation he’d never extended before. “Why?”
“It’s a holiday, and you’re my family. I thought?—”
“If you had actually thought, you’d know our answer to that.”
“Please, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for years. Now, you’re here in front of me, and I can’t just?—”
“Actually, you can. Dad, I’m not the little girl whose life you messed up anymore. Teddy is the only family I need. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t even spend your guilt money.”
“The trust fund isn’t?—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Please.” I’d never seen him look so sullen. “Carinna… She left.”
Left. Carinna wasn’t the woman I’d caught him with—there’d been many since then—but she was the first he’d married. Not the last though.
“Did you cheat on her?”
“No… I… She had an affair.”
“Ah. And you realize you wrote off your actual family when you shouldn’t have. ”
I looked closer. He had deep bags under his eyes, and his suit didn’t fit as well as it should have. The part of me that never liked to ruffle feathers rose to the surface. I didn’t like making people feel bad—about themselves or about me.
A sigh rattled out of me. “I’ll see what I can do about Thanksgiving.” I’d regret this. “Do you remember Sullivan Cassidy? He and his fiancée are hosting us this year. Do you… want to come?”
His face brightened. “A meal with two of my kids? I wouldn’t say no to that.”
At least since his wife left him.
“Fine. I’ll text you the details. I have to go.”
I closed the door on whatever he was going to say next and turned to find Guardian taking a shit right in the middle of the living room.
“You know, bud, sometimes I wish I could do that too.” Just mess everything up.
My phone rang again. Jameson. I picked it up and threw it. It smashed against the wall and hit the ground with a thud. The ringing continued. Damn iPhones. Couldn’t even break them when you really wanted to.
It stopped as I cleaned up Guardian’s mess. Then, it started again a few minutes later. On autopilot, I walked to the kitchen, yanked open the freezer, and stuffed it between the frozen chicken breasts and the giant bag of fruit Rowan used for the guys’ smoothies.
There. At least I could hardly hear it when I shut the door.
With the guys out of the house, I could order something disgustingly unhealthy from Uber Eats. Dumplings, fried egg rolls, and boba. Who cared if California pricing meant it cost nearly a hundred dollars? Who cared if it would stuff up every one of my arteries?
At five forty-five, I fed Guardian, feeling a little dangerous for doing it earlier than Teddy wanted. I then changed into an oversized T-shirt and no pants. I was a fucking adult. No one could make me wear pants.
A. Fucking. Adult.
With big fucking daddy issues.
And a famous ex who was probably in San Fran and booty-calling me.
Not to mention no idea what I was doing here in this state, or with my life in general.
When my food got here, I watched out the window until the delivery driver left it at the door and walked away. He turned when I opened the door, catching sight of me in all my pants-less glory.
Grabbing my food, I ran inside so fast that my boba would have spilled if it wasn’t for the magic, vacuum-sealed lid.
By the time the game started, I was stuffed full of greasy goodness, Guardian was pottied—outside this time—and I’d settled onto the couch to sip my boba like the badass goddess I was.
The game was a train wreck, and every time the camera showed Ryder, his face was angrier. I watched him try to fire up his team on the bench, yell at the refs, and even argue with Frankie.
That burning in him had me leaning forward, mesmerized.
Wanting him to scorch me.