Page 22
Seventeen
“WHAT A WASTE of time.”
Gen, curled on the backseat behind her, lifted her head for a quick scratch behind the ears.
“Dr. Stevens should be back from vacation next week; I’ll try to make another appointment, then.”
Abby wrinkled her nose, dissatisfied the on-call vet had taken one look at Gen’s half-grown fur and decided ahead of time Abby was some kind of clueless dog owner.
“You should have brought her in as soon as you suspected those hot spots. We could have shaved only those and saved her the trouble.”
As if Gen missed her thick, black coat in the height of the summer heat and humidity. As if Abby couldn’t recognize and treat basic hot spots at home.
Then he’d heard about the swimming.
“Chlorine is bad for dogs,” he’d haughtily informed her. “It dries their skin and can poison them if they drink too much of it.”
“She doesn’t drink it. And I rinse her with clean water afterwards.”
He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t matter. Still dries out her skin. She has flaky patches...” He pointed to one of the most virulent hot spots, which, Abby knew would have been flaky anyway.
It hadn’t taken long for Abby to devolve into humming in response to whatever the on-call vet had said, filing it away to check with Dr. Stevens later. At least she had a tube of hydrocortisone, now, to help treat the lurid red patches on Gen’s skin.
“Plenty of fresh water, my foot,” she grumbled as she navigated through traffic. “As if I don’t give you a full, new bowl every morning and evening. Try changing her food if she’s not eating ... It’s not like you’re on some kind of cheap, corn-based diet.”
It was odd, though. They hadn’t been by Dylan and Scott’s place more than a couple times since he’d started training camp, so empty calories from stolen-away dog treats weren’t filling her up. She must miss the boy, Abby concluded, and resolved to swing by Scott’s place on their way home.
Maybe Lauren would let her take Dylan to the park for a while. He and Gen could run and play together, and maybe the dog would find her old enthusiasm again. She hadn’t spent any time with children the last few weeks since being shaved. She must be lonely.
Abby pulled into Scott’s driveway, slid out of the driver’s seat, and opened the back door, waiting for Gen to jump out. After a moment, when no collar jingle came, she ducked her head to check on the pup.
Gen’s eyes were dull, staring across the car, and her tail gave only a few feeble thumps.
“Hey girl, you doing okay?”
Gen’s ears cocked forward, then flicked back again and she gingerly rose, stepping across the seats and jumping down to the cobbled driveway.
Perking up, she pranced to the front door and waited while Abby knocked. Flicking her ears as a flurry of footsteps on the other side announced Dylan’s arrival, when the door opened, she leapt up and draped her front paws over his shoulders, nuzzling her head beneath his chin.
Abby couldn’t help smiling at the sight. “Hey Dylan, we’re heading to the park. Want to come?”
“Why don’t we stay here, instead?”
Abby’s jaw dropped as Scott strode across the living area and into the front entrance, then swept her up in his arms and pulled her against him.
“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” she replied, still surprised. “But what are you doing here?”
“Day off. I thought I’d run home before Dylan starts school next week.”
“Ooh, that must be hard. Him starting school right in the middle of training camp.”
“Not quite in the middle; we’ll be wrapping up in another few days and then it’ll be prepping for pre-season. At least I’ll be home.”
“Speaking of home,” Abby tucked herself under his arm as they headed toward the kitchen. “I checked. First home game is week three against Seattle. I figured I could come pick Dylan up early and then go over to the field. I’d hate to get stuck in traffic or miss anything.”
“It’s a one-o’clock game, so the tailgating should be pretty tame. You shouldn’t need too much extra time.”
“Still...”
Abby had arrived during dinner prep, so Scott put her to work.
Elite athletes had to eat a lot of protein to keep from wasting away, but fruits and vegetables were equally important in maintaining both a balanced diet and a sufficient intake of all the trace vitamins and minerals their bodies burned.
During the off-season he hadn’t been quite as careful, but with practices now in full swing, she figured meals would become simpler, faster, and more calorically dense.
She wasn’t wrong.
Scott handed her a recipe for quinoa and goat cheese stuffed peppers with caramelized onions and chard on the side, then set her to work chopping herbs.
“That smells amazing,” she exclaimed as Scott lifted the lid on the rice cooker and fluffed the quinoa with several generous pinches of thyme.
“I’ll be eating chicken and potatoes soon enough. Doesn’t hurt to make things I enjoy while I have the time.”
Abby poked her head into the living area to check on Gen and found her rolling on the floor with Dylan while he ruffled her ears. Not allowed to lick, Abby couldn’t help giggling as the dog stuck her tongue in and out, wetting her nose, but keeping enough distance from the boy she didn’t get him.
Leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, Scott’s warm presence came up behind her, then one arm snaked around her waist and tugged her closer.
He’d grown. Not significantly so, but more solid, wider in the shoulders. His bicep, where it pressed into her upper arm, was thicker, banded with defined muscles. She sighed and leaned back against him.
“How’d her vet visit go?” Scott’s voice ruffled the strands of hair by her ear that had pulled loose from her ponytail. Electricity raced up her spine as they tickled her neck.
“Not great.” She cleared her throat, swallowing through the sudden thickness roughening her voice. Scott’s easy breath on the back of her neck sent her stomach tumbling, even as frustration rose in her chest. “Our vet is on vacation, so we had to see the on-call doctor. He pulled a Cunningham.”
“A Cunningham?”
Abby turned as Scott let her go, albeit reluctantly, dragging a hand across her hip.
Following him back toward the stove, she caught her breath, then explained, “Sorry, that’s what we used to call it when a doctor wouldn’t bother to listen to the patient.”
“Ah. The name sounded familiar.”
“Dylan’s first ortho,” Abby reminded him, voice dropping.
Scott, stirring cheese into the quinoa mixture, jerked his head around to her. “Oh, that’s ‘pulling a Cunningham’.”
They locked eyes a moment longer, then Scott’s attention went back to the bowl in front of him, a slight smile playing on his lips.
The ease of sharing these tidbits of her life before had grown slowly.
The night she’d called Scott and asked him to bring pizza had taught her she could, but she’d been careful, choosing only the happiest memories, the ones that still made her smile.
A shared joke without someone to share it with left a wispy shadow of melancholy behind, but Scott’s smile reminded her she didn’t have to face her ghosts alone.
“Here, can you cut these, too?” Scott handed her a board full of greens.
As she sliced the long ribbons of chard, a thought occurred to her. “Hey, what does Dylan do for away games?”
“He stays home with Lauren and watches them on TV. Why?”
Abby cocked her head to the side and considered.
If Scott would soon be home from camp, they’d be spending more time at his place again.
Gen would have more opportunities to hang out with Dylan, but away games could be week-long commitments, depending on the location, especially if they played back-to-backs or Sunday and Thursday games on the West Coast. In those cases, the team wouldn’t even come home in between.
“What if he came over to my place for the season opener?”
“It would make more sense for you to come over here; our TV is better.”
Setting the knife down, Abby leaned on the counter and studied Scott.
“I meant he could stay with us. Like, the whole time you’re away.
I know you have Lauren, and she knows during the season she needs to be here more, but Gen adores Dylan, and so do I, and I can get him to and from school.
I have that extra room he could sleep in.
..” She trailed off, her voice rising as if in question.
Scott had turned toward her as she spoke, eyes locking with hers, and as she ran out of words, he took two long strides across the tile floor. She straightened up, turning to meet him, but still wasn’t prepared as his arms came around her and his lips crashed into hers.
Surprised, but not opposed, she allowed herself to be swept up in the kiss.
They broke apart, her breath stuttering in her chest. “What was that for?”
“I love you.” Abby froze, but Scott continued. “I love how much you love my son. I love how much you want to spend time with him. I love how you care as much about having a relationship with him as you do with me. I just... I love you.”
Her default reaction—to run—was too deeply ingrained in her psyche not to be her automatic response.
Forcing herself to stillness, she allowed her fear to wash past, her fingers trembling with the effects of the adrenaline, the fight-or-flight response coursing through her veins.
But she recognized it as an old adversary, one she knew all too well how to process.
She wouldn’t let it win; she wouldn’t let it steal her future.
“I love you, too.”
She wanted to say more, but Scott crushed her to him. She breathed in the fresh scent of his soap mingled with the spice of the herbs he’d mixed into the quinoa, her nose pressed to the cool, clean cotton of his shirt.
No more words were needed.
Table of Contents
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- Page 21
- Page 22 (Reading here)
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