Page 121 of The Overtime Kiss

Sabrina: Tyler, she’s fine. I promise. She’s probably sleeping on the couch in my apartment.

I round the corner toward the locker room, tapping out a reply.

Tyler: Are you sure though? We can set up a cam. Miles has one for when he dog-sits our mom’s dogs.

Sabrina: That’s where she was when I left for my lessons.

Tyler: But you’re going to be there for a while. You have so many lessons—which is awesome—but the kids are with Elle tonight, so they won’t be able to check on her either. Maybe I shouldn’t go to Cozy Valley after the game.

Sabrina: I’ll be home around eight. She’ll be fine.

Tyler: But I’ll be done by seven. I should just swing by and check on things. And get a camera.

Sabrina: Cat Daddy, stop. Go see your friends tonight. Friendship time is important.

Tyler: So is pussy…cat time. :)

Sabrina: You’re so thoughtful.

Tyler: But seriously, you think she’s fine?

Sabrina: Seriously—she’s fine. Go! Socialization is key to happiness. Studies prove it.

I scoff and type out a reply.

Tyler: I bet orgasms are on that list.

Sabrina: Fine. Orgasms and friendship.

Tyler: Like I said, I’m always thinking of …cats.

Sabrina: That’s clear.

Tyler: And I might still get a cat-cam.

I step into the locker room, the clang of gear and the chatter of teammates thick in the air. But I’m still weighing whether we need a cat-cam or not. Rowan tugs on his uniform shorts in his stall, then tips his chin toward me.

“You good, man?” he asks, then smirks. “Or are you just stressing because you know I’m gonna destroy you in cornhole tonight?”

I snort. “You figured me out. But it’s lucky I’ve got my cheat codes for cornhole, buddy.”

He nods toward me, a serious look in his eyes. “Actually, you really are wound up. What’s going on? I don’t need you getting on the ice all stressed.”

Despite our penchant for trash talk, I appreciate that Rowan’s reading me right. I drag a hand through my hair, sighing heavily. “It’s okay if the kitten is in the house alone for six hours, right? She’s three months old.”

Across the room, Max is strapping on his goalie leg pads, his chest protector already in place. He glances up, eyes narrowing. “You got a kitten? Is she getting enough stimulation? Does she have enough toys? Did you make her little tinfoil balls? Cats love those more than anything in the world.”

I tense. I haven’t done any of that. “I think we have tinfoil at home. But I can check,” I mumble.

Max nods like this is life-or-death. “Yeah, you’d better. Kittens need all sorts of things. Ball up some tinfoil and she’ll go wild for it. Also, you know what their favorite toy in the world is? The little cardboard roll inside the toilet paper. Oh, and boxes of tissues. That shit is so fun for kittens. But you also need a ground scratching post. Do you have one?”

“What is that? We have a regular scratching post.”

“Oh, you have to get a ground scratching post. And some of those toys with a ball inside it that they bat around. They go nuts for that stuff.”

I blink, overwhelmed by all this feline information. I had no idea there were so many toys for cats.

“The OG cat daddy has spoken,” Asher chimes in from his locker, pointing to Max.

---