Page 28 of The Best Parts of Him
chapter seven
Vermont greeted October with three days of overcast skies and intermittent rain. Dabbs sat in his bedroom and tried to concentrate on his virtual meeting. Shannon the crocheted ice cream cone stared at him from where he’d propped her on his bookshelf.
“And that’s it,” the freelance editor he’d hired said, pushing waves of dark hair over her shoulder. “A couple of tweaks in the second book to make the theme clearer and adjusting the language in all three books for a middle-grade audience. I’d also recommend changing either Simon or Silver’s name in the third book; they’re similar enough that readers might get confused.”
Dabbs nodded, sleep pulling at the backs of his eyes.
Fuck, he was tired. Had barely been able to keep his eyes open the past couple of days, and he felt . . . off. Maybe he was coming down with something—not ideal only a day before their second regular season game.
Giving his head a hard shake, he refocused on the conversation as Gloria was telling him that she’d email him an edit letter outlining everything they’d talked about.
“The first book is the strongest,” she said. “But with some small tweaks, the second two will be just as strong.”
“I wrote a shorter version of the first one for one of my university courses,” Dabbs told her. “I applied the feedback from my professor when I decided to expand it.”
“Smart,” Gloria said. “If you have any questions or want to talk through any issues, shoot me an email. I’m happy to help.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
They signed off, and a moment later, an email appeared in his inbox.
He read the edit letter through twice before giving up and closing out of it. His brain was too foggy to function properly, and it didn’t help that his stomach hurt too. Indigestion, no doubt. He blamed the takeout burrito he’d picked up for lunch yesterday on his way home from the dogs’ grooming appointments.
Bellamy stuck his head in his room, sporting a Trailblazers hat and a rain jacket. “Ready to go?”
Dabbs stared at him blankly. Did they have an appointment somewhere?
“Team meeting?” Bellamy reminded him.
“Right.” Shaking his head, Dabbs rose and grabbed his wallet. Shit, was he really that out of it? “Yeah, I’m ready.”
It began to rain again as they exited the house and jogged toward Bellamy’s SUV. Every step was a pinprick of pain along Dabbs’ right side, and he grit his teeth against it as he ducked his head and scrambled into Bellamy’s passenger seat.
“Zanetti!” Bellamy called, standing outside his open driver’s side door. “Want to carpool with us?”
A moment later, both Bellamy and Zanetti joined Dabbs in the car, Bellamy in the driver’s seat, Zanetti behind him.
Dabbs clocked Zanetti’s dripping umbrella and said, “Were you going to walk to the arena?”
“Yeah.” Zanetti ran a hand through dark brown hair, dislodging rain droplets. “My car’s in the shop.”
“Why didn’t you call us?” Bellamy asked, backing out of the parking spot.
“I texted,” Zanetti said. “Neither of you answered.”
“Sorry, man,” Dabbs said. “I was on a call.”
“Same, honestly,” Bellamy said.
“Next time, come knock on the door.”
“When neither of you answered, I figured you’d already left.” Zanetti leaned forward and poked Dabbs in the shoulder. “So? Tell me, oh captain, my captain. What’s this I’ve been hearing about the Trailblazers being the subject of a documentary?”
Dabbs exchanged a glance with Bellamy. Coach Madolora hadn’t brought it up since their first conversation about it—as far as Dabbs was aware, they were still waiting on the answers to their many questions—so where had Zanetti gotten wind of it?
“Where’d you hear that?” Dabbs asked.
“They were speculating about it on a hockey podcast I listen to.” Zanetti poked him in the shoulder again. “So? Any truth to that?”
