Page 80 of Sliding into Love
"I was a weird little kid." I shrug. "Anyway, they finally agreed. We got this golden retriever puppy, and I named him Rookie."
"Rookie," Royce repeats, their lips twitching. "Like baseball?"
"Like baseball. I loved that dog. Took care of him every day, trained him, played with him for hours. He slept in my bed every night." The memory shifts, turning bittersweet. "Then I went away to college. And when I came home for winter break, he was gone."
Royce's hand finds mine. "What happened?"
"My mother decided he was too much trouble. Too much shedding, too much noise. She rehomed him while I was gone and didn't tell me until I asked where he was."
I can still remember the sick feeling in my stomach when she'd said it so casually, like it didn't matter.
"She said I needed to focus on my studies anyway, that the dog was a distraction."
"Kenny, baby.” Royce's voice is soft but angry. "That's cruel."
"It was a long time ago."
"That doesn't make it less cruel." They set their plate aside and shift closer, pulling me against their chest. "I'm sorry that happened to you. You deserved better."
I let myself sink into their embrace, into the comfort they're offering. "It taught me not to get too attached to things. To be prepared for loss."
"Or it taught you that the people who were supposed to love you didn't know how to properly. That's on them, not you." Royce's fingers card through my hair, soothing.
We sit like that for a long time, the documentary forgotten, just holding each other. Eventually, they speak again.
“If we have our own place someday," they say quietly, "we're getting a dog. Maybe two."
"Our own place?" My heart skips at the casual way they say it, like it's inevitable.
“If we get there, then yes. I don’t want to commit to anything too soon, but I’m a planner at heart.” They pull back to look at me, and I can see uncertainty flickering in their eyes.
"No. Not too soon to mention.” I kiss them, putting everything I feel into it. "Someday, our place. With dogs. And a kitchen you cook in while I do the dishes."
"And a bed we both sleep in."
"Every night," I agree.
"Every night," they echo, and it sounds like a promise.
"You're terrible at this."
"I'm not terrible. I'm just… strategically challenged."
Royce laughs, moving their game piece across the board to capture another one of mine. "You're losing to me in chess, Little Menace. Badly at that.”
We're in the office screwing around. Technically, we should both be working, but it's a slow Friday, and we'd decided to take a long lunch. Which somehow turned into Royce teaching me chess using the set I’d kept on the bookshelf. It was a gift from ages ago that I never put to use.
At least I hadn’t until now.
"In my defense," I say, studying the board like it might suddenly make sense, "I've never played before."
"That's becoming obvious." They lean back in their chair, looking entirely too smug. "Do you want to concede?"
"Absolutely not. I'm a Meyer. We don't give up."
"Even when you're objectively losing?"
"Especially then. It’s our least appealing quality.”
