Page 11 of Love in the Net
The weekend fundraiser arrives,and despite my best efforts, it’s quieter than I hoped. The turnout is small, and while the people who do come are generous, I close up my shop and head into my office to count the money.
Waffles curls into his bed at the side of my desk as I flip through bills, and I sigh when I reach the end. “Nine hundred and sixty-four dollars.”
It’s better than nothing, but it feels like a failure. I pick up my phone, needing a soft place to land right now.
To Liam:
The fundraiser was a bust. Only raised $964. I feel like I let everyone down.
I hit send and wait, watching the little dots appear, then disappear. But no response comes.
The hope I felt with Liam next to me on the window seat dims slightly, and familiar doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is too hard.
But then I remember what he’s said a couple of times now:We’ll figure it out.
I take a deep breath, setting my phone aside. I can’t expect him to text me back within seconds. He’s a pro hockey player, and I settle in to wait for his comfort and reassurance.
6
Meet me at the practice rink tonight at 6:30. Bring Waffles.
I readand re-read the text from Liam, because it’s the only one I’ve gotten since he left Blue Ridge for his stint on the road. He’s called me several times, and I thought he was coming to my house for dinner tonight, his first evening back in town.
The practice rink? Why?
I look over to where Waffles naps in his bed. At least I haven’t burnt anything in the bakery this week. I move from the back of the bakery to the front, restocking my cases and shelves for the following day, as I had an enormous order go out today.
When it’s time, I say, “Come on, Waffles. Let’s go for a ride.” He loves the car, so he has no hesitation with loading up and heading over to the arena where the Buffaloes practice.
We drive through the quiet streets of Blue Ridge with his tongue flapping in the breeze, and he’s vibrating with excitement, completely unaware of how much my nerves mirror his energy.
I pull into the rink’s parking lot, the building standing tall and quiet under the glow of the streetlights. There are more cars here than I expected for this time of night, and for a moment, I wonder if I need a pass to watch practice.
“Ready, buddy?” I ask Waffles, clipping his leash to his collar before stepping out of the car. He jumps down eagerly, his tail wagging like a metronome as we head toward the entrance.
The doors slide open, and I’m immediately hit with the cool, familiar scent of ice and the faint hum of the arena lights.
I look down to the ice, expecting to see Liam in the net, but he’s not there. There are no hockey players on the ice at all.
Then Liam comes out of the door opposite of me, lifting his hand to say hello. My pulse pounds at the sight of him after six days.
Then the sound of barking echoes through the space, followed by laughter and chatter as more people—and dogs—come in after Liam.
They head down the stairs as I watch, and before I know it, people and canines fill the ice. The rink isn’t just a sheet of ice anymore—it’s been turned into a full-blown dog wonderland.
Liam nods to someone, then points, and they put up miniature goal nets and padded barriers, making a doggy obstacle course of sorts.
Scattered across the ice are dogs of all shapes and sizes, slipping and sliding as they chase after tennis balls and rubber pucks while their humans encourage them to get them in the nets.
And at the center of it all is Liam, decked out in his goalie gear—sans the helmet—but with one hilarious addition: a referee’s whistle hanging around his neck. Bear and Scout are right next to him, both wearing tiny Buffalo jerseys that somehow make them look even more adorable.
“What is this?” I whisper to myself.
Liam waves to me, clearly calling me down onto the ice where the chaos reins.
Before I can move, Waffles tugs on his leash, clearly desperate to join the chaos on the ice. I let him pull me forward, and I practically trip as he leads me down the steps toward the ice.
Liam’s smile doesn’t slip as I arrive, and he slide-walks over to me, Bear and Scout trotting after him like the world’s cutest assistants.
