Page 42 of Keeping the Score

“I was at Nakuru. It’s not far from their arena. They’d just finished a game. Now what were their names? Oh, one of them is a goalie! Tyler Something.”

“Tyler Kadner,” I growl. “Jesus.”

“He said you’re a good goalie.” Andi meets my eyes, and I see the amusement at my reaction.

I grunt.

“The others were Kevin and Ryker.”

“Kevin Beaven and Ryker Murphy,” Smitty says. “Were they trying to pick you up? You shouldn’t date a Bear.”

“That’s not what most women say,” Andi says.

Everyone cracks up laughing, even me.

“I don’t get it,” Crusher says.

“Oh, come on,” Smitty says. “Haven’t you heard about that big debate on social media? They asked women if they’d rather be trapped alone in the woods with a man or a bear. And women all said the bear.”

“And a bunch of men got mad about it,” Andi adds.

Crusher’s brow wrinkles. “Huh. That’s kind of depressing. I’m not mad, though. I get it.”

“Anyway, I think Tyler was flirting with me a little,” Andi says. “But he’s kind of young for me.”

Heat simmers in my belly. “I thought you were on a date. He was flirting with you in front of your date?”

“I was on a date with Elodie,” she replies gently.

“Oh.” That’s good. But also, fuck Tyler Kadner.

“Okay, listen up, everyone.” Dilly waves a piece of paper. “I wrote down all the things Archie said when he opened the gifts.” He pauses, holding the paper in front of him. “This is what was said the night Matilda was conceived. Number one: it’s so small.”

Everyone roars with laughter.

“Number two: where does this go? Number three: this is really cute. Number four… isn’t that a choking hazard?”

As everyone guffaws, Dilly finishes reading the things I did, in fact, say, although not the night of Matilda’s conception. Even I laugh.

Andi takes Tilly and lays her on a blanket on the floor, fastens the little rattles to her wrists, then puts the rattle socks on. Tilly’s intrigued, waving her arms and kicking her legs, and looking at the noises. Andi takes her little feet and lifts them up so Tilly can see them. She stares intently.

Jesus Christ, she’s cute.

“She’s been almost finding her feet,” Andi says. “These are great.”

My attention moves to Andi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, dressed in ripped jeans and a striped blue sweater. Her shiny gold hair falls over her face as she plays with Tilly’s feet, the curve of her lips warm and affectionate.

Jesus Christ, she’s gorgeous.

Something seizes in my chest. I can’t be thinking things like that.

Last night when she stopped by on her way out, I was jarred, seeing her in sexy clothes, no glasses, and shiny lipstick. She looked extremely fuckable. I beat myself up for the rest of the night for thinking that. Then I dreamed about undressing her. Fuck.

Andi’s my neighbor, my friend. Trevor’s ex. Also, the only person I trust to help with Tilly. I cannot mess that up.

Also, Andi’s never given any hint whatsoever that she’s attracted to me. Why would she be? I’m an oddball. I’ve never hidden that from her. On top of that, now I have a baby. And I’m certainly not looking for a relationship. I don’t need anyone. I mean, I do have a healthy sex drive, to put it mildly, and it’s been a while. No wonder I’m getting horny thoughts about Andi.

But those have to stop. Right now.

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