Page 66 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

My eyes met JBo’s and he gave the tiniest apologetic shrug. I mean, it’s not a bad plan. Coach is right about JBo’s speed.

I pile the towels up and carry them into the bathroom. It doesn’t matter. I’m still playing. That’s the important thing. I can’t let Coach’s mind games get to me; if I do, I’ll make even more mistakes out on the ice.

Fuck it. I’m going to see Lilly.

No. I can’t. I’m grouchy and pissed.

But somehow seeing her always changes that.

Oh man, I’m so screwed. I can’t get involved with her. She’s sweet and believes things are always going to work out, and I’m bitter and know thingsneverwork out. I can’t inflict my negativity on her adorable optimism. And I can’t let myself care about her, because when she disappears, she’ll be one more thing that’s taken away from me. I can’t handle that again.

I glance at my watch. Nearly five o’clock.

“Fine,” I say on a long sigh. “I’m going to text her. Maybe she’s not even home.”

I grab my phone and fire off a quick message. I busy myself with the rest of my laundry while I wait for her reply, which takes about ten minutes.

I’m just dropping off Apollo, then heading home.

I hold my phone, feeling its small weight in my palm. Then I tap in another message.How about dinner?

We’ve gone out on what I guess could be called dates, but after we had sex that first time, we basically agreed that’s what we were doing—having sex. She doesn’t want a relationship as much as I don’t, so that’s great.

Maybe I should have just asked for a booty call.

I roll my eyes. That’s not what this is about, even though I want to pretend it is.

My phone buzzes and I start. I glance down at it.

Okay, sure.

I smile.I’ll come by your place at seven.

I get a thumbs-up emoji in return.

I grin at Otis. “We better go for a walk now. I’ve got a hot date.”

—

She answers her door wearing black leggings, a big, loose blue sweater with a cowl-neck, and her usual boots. “Hi!”

“Hi.” For a moment, I’m without words. I don’t know why. She looks casual and put-together but not speech-robbing. It’s her smile that does it—wide and glowing and engaging, her eyes full of light and life.

“I’m ready.” She pulls her jacket on and picks up her purse from the small table near the door. “I feel like Otis is missing.”

“He can’t come on a date with us.”

She locks her door and slants me an amused glance. “Is that what this is?”

“Call it what you want.”

We step outside and descend the stairs to the sidewalk. “Where are we going?” She tugs the neck of her soft sweater up under her chin.

“Let’s walk up to Broadway and hail a cab. There’s a place in Hell’s Kitchen I like.”

“Okay. We can take the subway, though.”

“I’ll spring for a cab tonight.”

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