Page 34 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Does he have lots of toys to chew on?”

“I bought a few things. He could probably use more.”

“We can stop at the dollar store on our way back and pick up some things. There’s one a couple blocks down Columbus.”

My eyebrows fly up.

“Just looking out for Otis,” she says with an eye roll.

She’s making sure I don’t get any wrong ideas about this. Little does she know, it’s too late. My ideas about her are very, very wrong.

Chapter 7

Lilly

After I greet Otis, I snoop around Easton’s apartment a little. I was here before, but now that Easton’s not here I take my time studying the place. I knew it would be way nicer than mine. Dark hardwood floors stretch from the entrance to the big window in the living room and down the hall. Light taupe walls keep it airy, and although the furniture is minimal, it’s stylish and new. Two dark brown leather couches flank a big-screen television, anchored by a thick rug patterned in shades of gray and taupe. The living room is mostly neat, other than the dog bed in the corner, the chew toys and squeaky toys, and a couple of dog biscuits strewn over the floor. I have to smile at that.

His kitchen is all white and stainless steel, and spotless, with a healthy bowl of fruit on the quartz counter.

Easton hasn’t done a lot of decorating in the time he’s been here; there aren’t any family pictures and only a couple of pieces hanging on the wall—a jersey in a big frame for a team I don’t recognize—the Warriors—and a few pucks. Presumably these mean something to him. I stand in front of a shelf on the wall and study the books there—sports and performance ones, but also some fiction. He apparently likes Harlan Coben. And graphic novels. Interesting.

I walk over to the big windows in the living room to gaze down on the Hudson River and New Jersey beyond that. Nice view.

I turn to see Otis sitting on the carpet, watching me. I grin. “Hey. Don’t tell your dad I was snooping around.”

He cocks his head.

“Attaboy. Ready for your walk?”

He knows that word and starts jumping. I find his leash and a couple of bags and we head out to the park.

We take our time and don’t rush back. When we do get back to Easton’s place, I feed Otis his supper. But I feel bad leaving Otis when Easton won’t be home for hours, so I take a picture of Otis and text it to Easton. Then I sink into one of the big couches and grab the remote on the coffee table to try to figure out how to operate the TV. I make a note of what channel he has it on so I can change it back when I’m done. Then I find the game.

I’m sure Easton wouldn’t mind me hanging out here with Otis. I don’t know why I think I need to hide it. But since we didn’t discuss it, I feel a little guilty. Well, to make myself feel better, I’ll do some training with Otis.

I retrieve a bag of small treats from the kitchen and sit on the living room floor with him. It would help to have another person to push his butt down when I say “sit,” but he remembers it after a few tries. Then I work on getting him to give me a paw. That one’s easier. I feel I’ve made progress; he just needs more practice.

“Good boy!” I give him lots of praise along with the treats.

On the TV, the crowd at the game roars and the goal horn blares.

“Damn, I missed the goal!” I turn to see the Bears celebrating their goal. Easton is one of the guys on the ice, and he skates past his bench to bump his glove against his teammates’. I wait for the replay and watch him feed the puck to Bobak for the goal. Nice!

I wait until the first period is over, then walk home during the intermission. I feel sad leaving Otis, but it’ll only be a few hours until Easton gets home after his game.

As I walk, I check my phone. And hey! There’s a response to one of my ads, asking about dog walking. Whoop! I pick up my pace so I can answer when I’m home.

And an hour later, the Bears are up three–two and I have a new client. His name is Apollo and I can’t wait to meet him.

Easton

“Look, Nancy, I know you’re not the biggest guy, but maybe if you worked out a little harder, put on a bit more muscle, you’d do better in the corners.”

My entire body stiffens. I’m afraid to look around the dressing room after the game we just lost. I risk a glance at Wendy, who Coach has just singled out.

Nancy.

Jesus fucking Christ.

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