Page 95 of Kitty Season
I worry my lip between my teeth. “Hemight be different though.”
Quinn places her hand on my chin, tilts my head and presses her lips to mine.
“He will always be enough.”
The happinessI felt at seeing my mum, that tingled all the way down to my pinky toes, and right back up again did not last long. Within a few hours it fused with the lingering guilt over my behavior towards Quinn and the uncertainty of my future. Sleep has been my only respite, which is a good thing because there has been plenty of it. I drifted off before Quinn had finishedcooking her quinoa and am only waking now, twelve hours later, Quinn curled up, her back against my chest. Troye behind me, my back to his.
Safely nestled in my cocoon, desiring to wake this way for the rest of my days, I’m hit with an unwelcome, unnerving dose of reality. How many more mornings will there be? If I don’t have hockey, then I don’t have a scholarship, or a student visa. And the game? I didn’t even ask about the game. How fucking selfish can I be?
“I can hear you thinking from here,” Troye grumbles, and shifts behind me. His morning wood stabbing me in the ass. “Ignore that.”
“I hope to God I’m never in such a state that I want to ignorethat.”
“You have to, though,” Quinn says through a yawn. “Doctor Quinn’s orders.”
“Use it as motivation, Skip. And if you’re a good boy, the second the real doc gives you the all clear, me and Quinny will be happy to make it up to you.”
“Maybe I can wear the kitty ears?” Quinn says as she teasingly rubs her ass against me, just like every good health professional should. “And if it makes you feel any better Troye and I are on a sex ban.”
“A sex ban that I had no say in. Nothing wrong with staying match fit, I say.”
“Sorry mate, but I’m with Quinn on this one. Especially since Mum is—Wait. Kitty ears?”
Quinn’snext to me happily munching on toast. Troye’s in the shower. Mum’s doing the dishes and talking about her neighbor’s daughter, Jan, as though I hold the answers to why her cat is sick all the time.
Luckily, there’s enough bacon, Vegemite toast and Cornflakes to distract me,andto feed a small nation. “Why does everything smell and taste so good?” I say, leaning into her. “It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”
“Maybe because you haven’t? Not much anyway. Water and one bowl of soup cannot satisfy a man of your size.”
Troye slips into the seat next to me, his eyes wide as he denies his need to make asatisfy a man of your size,joke. I’m more concerned with resisting his fresh shower scent and charcoal suit and tie I’ve never seen him in. Did he mention going out today? Shit, I can’t remember shit.
I devour the last piece of toast on my plate then lean back and rub my rounded belly, gaze only wandering from Troye to check that Mum’s out of earshot. “You look hot. Are you dressing up for breakfast with us or do you have a hot date?” Eyes darting to Quinn, a slight grimace appears on Troye’s freshly shaven face.
“I need to talk to you about something Skip, and it’s something that might upset you.”
“Is it about the game? ‘Cause if it is, it’s okay. I know you won. I saw it on my phone before Quinny could snatch it away. I was stoked, then I think I forgot.”
I blush, embarrassed with my forgetfulness, but Troye smiles and winks like I said the cutest thing ever. “It’s related to the game, yeah. To hockey in general.”
A wave of nausea rolls over me that has nothing to do with the four person breakfast I just consumed. Bracing myself I take Quinn’s hand in my right, and snag Troye’s hand with my left. Even through the anxiety, I can’t help but feel calmed by the way he just accepts my touch. So much has changed. “Troye, I don’t want you to dull your excitement for me. I can’t exactly jump for joy right now, my head would implode, and if it didn’t Mum would kill me anyway. But I promise I’m really happy for you and the boys. I should have said something, but, yeah, I forgot and—” Troye turns our hands over so his is the dominant and squeezes back.
“I got signed, Skip. It’s not a big deal really, but I got signed with an agent and I got signed with Boston.”
The urge to do exactly what I said I wouldn’t, jump and scream and yell, is too strong. I yank my hands back, push off the table, and I’m up as quick as I can.
“Brady!” Quinn admonishes but she needn’t worry. Troye’s faster on his feet, obviously. Grabbing my shoulders, he pushes me back down, pins my arms to the table then wedges himself between my spread thighs. I’m trapped beneath him and it’s cruelly hot. “You got signed.” I literally pant. “With Boston. You got signed with Boston. You got?—”
“Yes, Skip. I got signed with Boston. I did and I have to go and meet with them today. I’m not sure if I’ll get a game with the B’s straight away like Noah did, or if I’ll start with the home team, and to be honest. I don’t care. All I care about is that you are okay with this. I don’t want you to think I stole your dream.”
Behind me I hear Mum whimper, then quietly slink off into my old room. I wish I could slink off, but maybe to the pits of hell instead. Troye is living the fantasy of every hockey player and he’s too scared to celebrate it because of me. A memory of me warning Quinn about Troye’s selfishness rears its ugly head, seeing me drop mine into my hands.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever been more wrong about someone as I have been of you,” I mutter. “Quinn’s had this unwavering faith in you all this time, and I couldn’t see it because I was so jealous, and so in denial of how much I wanted you.” Troye ducks down, a faint smile curling his lips.
“Well, I did torture you with celly snaps and hold your troll for ransom for weeks. Either way, I think we both know Quinn is the beholder of a far greater intellect than you and me … Or should that be you or I, Kitty?”
Brows raised, Quinn flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Sorry I wasn’t listening to anything after the celly photos and trolls. What the hell, Troye?”
BRADY
