Page 52 of No Rhyme or Roughing
I buried my nose in the freshpuppy scent. “Guardian prefers Auntie Sydney anyway. Go on, Ted. Get out of here.”
“We’re going to be late for warm-ups, bro,” Rowan said as he and Ryder waited impatiently by the door. Ryder didn’t look at me; he barely had in the two days since the park.
For my part, I couldn’t stop watching him. Even as my brother lectured me on caring for a dog. Even as my phone rang beside me, Jameson’s name flashing on the screen.
I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t. He did this—ending things and then calling when he was bored. We’d been through it so many times it was embarrassing.
Ryder pulled Teddy’s arm. “Sydney can take care of a puppy.”
Oh, so he did remember my name. I rolled my eyes. “Get out of here so Guardian and I can have some aunt bonding time.”
With a long look, Teddy finally turned away and followed his teammates out the door. It was the last game before Thanksgiving—a Thanksgiving we were apparently spending at Sullivan’s. Ryder and I had decided it was best to wait until after their post-Thanksgiving road trip to try for another video.
I sighed, looking at Guardian. “Just you and me, pup.”
There was a knock on the door, and I froze. Who the hell came to someone’s door without warning anymore? As a millennial woman, I was entitled to the anxiety swooping through me that could be brought on by one of two things:
A ringing phone and a knock on the door.
Fuck, I was going to have to talk to whoever it was. What if it was some religious person trying to convert me? Or worse, a neighbor needing a cup of sugar. Did people do that anymore? Stop by their neighbor’s house?
“What do we do, buddy?” I whispered.
Guardian’s only answer was a high yip.
“Stupid dog, use your words.” I didn’t mean that. Dogs were not stupid. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The knock came again.
As if the universe just wanted to fuck with me, my phone rang. But this time, it wasn’t Jameson. It was Dad.
Suddenly, whoever stood on the other side of that door—Bible thumper or not—was much more appealing. I set Guardian down, and he ran to the door, barking his tiny head off.
Deep breath. One. Two. I pulled open the door, fully prepared to listen to scripture and let them tell me all about their church because I wouldn’t be able to find the words to tell a stranger I wasn’t interested.
But it wasn’t a friendly scripture-reading stranger on the other side.
“Dad.”
“Sydney.” He looked past me, not showing an ounce of surprise to see me here. “Is your brother here?”
I gripped the edge of the door, blocking the entrance. “No. Game.”
“Ah.” He rocked back in his loafers, sticking his hands in the pockets of his thousand-dollar suit. “So, it’s just you.”
“Sorry.” I didn’t know why I was apologizing, but I’d done it since I was barely a teenager, facing my mother’s resentment and my father’s guilt.
“No, I didn’t mean…” He blew out a breath. “It’s good to see you. Glad you’re in town.”
“Yeah, you know… brother lives here and all.”
He nodded.
“I’ll tell him you stopped by.” I started to shut the door, but he put a hand on it.
“No, wait. I came to…” He looked nervous, which was very unlike him. “Do you and Theodore want to spend Thanksgiving with me?”
I lifted one brow. It was an invitation he’d never extended before. “Why?”
