Page 74 of Kitty Season
“I will not forget about it.We—”She wiggles her index finger between them— “Haven’t seen a photo of you where you’re notpouting, or trying to zap the camera with your eyes since you were twelve. Now make like Britney and gimme gimme.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“And stop using the lord’s name in vain.”
I sit up so quickly I lose balance and almost fall from the bed. “You’re an atheist! What the hell do you care?”
Terry, who’s standing beside my mom’s looks as confused as we do pissed. “You know, I’m glad to see you’re good, but I think I’m going to …” He side-nods towards the door then backs out through it.
“You’re quicker!” Fifi calls, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Chase him, Delphi. Don’t let him get away!” If dust could exist in such a room as sanitized as this one is, Fifi would disappear into a cloud of it. That’s how fast she books it out the door. As the squeak of her high-top Converse fades into the distance, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. Or try too.
“Whoa. When did the world get so spinny.” Swaying, I grip the thin, hip high mattress. Delphi’s on me in a second, one arm snaking around my waist, the other cradling my neck like she’s holding a baby.
“Since you had your beautiful head slammed into a wall by a thug. Concussion or not. Sit”
“Fine, but I’m doing it because I want to. Not because you told me to.”
With a resounding slap, my ass hits the cushioning and I sigh, rubbing the sizable lump on my head. Fucking Mahomes. “Any wonder Skip’s been such a grump since his knock. This shit’s rough.”
“Who’s Skip? Another person you’ve been secretly dating for months?”
“No.” It’s been days and it’s not dating, it’s fucking. “This is Skip.” I snatch the photo still lying beside me and thrust it into her face. “He’s our goalie.”
“And his name is Skip? Haven’t met a lot of Skips in my time.” She swipes the photo and yep, she’s totally checking him out.
“His real name is Brady. I call him Skip to shit him ‘cause he’s an Australian pain in my ass.”
“He’s very protective of you. He shielded you from all those boys fighting. It’s a little fuzzy, but he looks like a bit of a hottie, too. Don’t you think?”
I’ve seen him naked. Lady, you’ve got no idea.
“Ehh. He’s okay.” Taunting me, Delphi waves the pic in front of my eyes, then reluctantly hands it back when I whine like a bitch. Sucking in some deep breaths, I will my heart to stop racing, and attempt to keep my face impassive. Brady’s ’touch him and die’ expression, makes it hard. Hard like my dick will be if I keep ogling it.
What Skip did to keep me safe went above and beyond. We’re supposed to be the ones protecting our goalie, not the other way around. Being a complete ass to him after this is going to be … hard.
I’m pondering all that firmness when my other mom’s voice bounces off the nearby corridors’ concrete walls. “He may not be once we finish with him, but for now he’s fine. I promise, sweetheart.”
Quinn’s sniffled, “Okay,” sets me on edge. She has been, or is crying. I hate it when she cries. Her eyes are always so big and expressive, but when sad they and the emotional carnage they create triple in size. They also unleash the biggest tears I‘ve ever seen.
Suddenly cold, I shiver as Mom enters first, Quinn follows a second later. She’s smiling, but her swollen bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are red and puffy. Like I knew it would, seeing her upset makes me feel terrible. More than terrible. My shiver becomes a full body shake, and my stomach twistsso violently I feel I might be ill. I don’t want her to see that though, so I offer a small smile and that’s enough for the tears to flow. Hers and mine. She runs towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck so enthusiastically she almost knocks us to the floor.
Her warm body, her scent, everything feels right. Even her soft hair catching on my nose ring.
“Are you really okay? And why are you wearing your piercing? You’re not supposed to keep it in while you play. Also I’ve decided you’re not allowed to play anymore.” She sniffs. “Maybe you could take up a new sport. I hear curling is great fun. Still on the ice too so it could be just as hot.”
“Could be? Baby please, you know I’d fucking rock curling.” Her body tenses, and she holds me tighter, but I’m eternally grateful she letsbabyslide. Maybe that gratitude is what prompts me to say what I do next. “I’m sorry I made you cry, Kitty. And that I didn’t tell Moms about you.” Her tiny gasp tickles my ear, and she pulls from our embrace like I’d slapped her, not offered an apology.
I really am an asshole.
Standing before me, hair sticking to her wet lips, she looks so fucking beautiful. So … vulnerable. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“You shouldn’t have to be understanding, though. I should have?—”
“Knock Knock.”
I’m just about to tell Terry to fuck right off, when Quinn turns and shifts slightly to the left, opening up my view of the doorway, and Skip. He’s leaning against the chipped door jam, his hair still damp from the post-game shower, draped over his stiffly held arm, a neatly folded varsity jacket. Seeing his face it’s the ultimate juxtaposition of joy and trepidation.
“Can I come in?” Unlike Terry, Skip waits for my nod of approval, then inches his way inside, nervous glances darting between the three women crowding me, and staring back at him.
