Page 6 of Spiral
“I’ve watchedDownton AbbeyandBridgerton.” Jackson was baiting me into the usual US versus UK language thing, but I was done with his teasing. Why was it that anyone I met here expected me to talk like some straitlaced, uptight historical figure?
I changed the subject quickly. “Was he okay?”Was he ashamed? Did he have regrets? Was he running?
“Seemed okay to me,” Jackson said.
“Really?”
“Really. He said he had an early practice, moaned about how it was the day after our event and how he shouldn’t have drunk and…” He tapped the counter as he recalled more. “Oh yeah, he had a message for you.”
Fuck, why didn’t Jackson start with that? “What did he say?” Jackson was focused on pouring coffee into a thermos, then he kissed Oli, and I swear that man was out to make me hit him square on the nose.
“He said to tell you goodbye.”
“That was it?” I was disappointed; part of me hoped Craig’s words would be meaningful.
“Well…” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice as if he had another part of the message for my ears only; I moved in eagerly. “Yep, that was it,” he said, stole one last kiss from Oli, grabbed his keys, and vanished.
“I hate him,” I muttered.
Oli chuckled. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes. I do.” I collapsed back to the counter, scrubbing at my eyes.
As I nursed my second hot mug of tea, feeling the life seep back into me, Oliver rested against the countertop, his gaze thoughtful.
“Craig’s really something on the ice. Fast, smart. It’s like he’s playing chess out there,” he started, breaking the comfortable silence between us as I sipped my tea. “But he’s also one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Always has time for everyone, always there to help the rookies.”
I nodded, my grip on the mug tightening just a bit. I was warm inside as Oli said this.
“I messed it up.”
“How?”
“I don’t remember, but I know this is all my fault.”
“If you don’t remember, how do you know it’s all your fault?”
“I’m British; it’s always our fault,” I murmured, and Oli chuckled again. “Also, he’s not here, is he!” I waved at the kitchen. “I don’t remember what I did, but he’s the one running before I woke up.”
“Craig is one of the good guys, and he would have needed to sleep before practice. I bet he didn’t really want to go, so don’t let one awkward morning make you think otherwise.”
His words were meant to be reassuring, and somewhere beneath the headache, they were. But they also reminded me of a) why I was never drinking again and b) how awkward the morning after the night before could be.
Before I could respond, Oliver glanced at the clock and cursed softly. “I’ve got to head out. Practice won’t wait for the weary or the hungover,” he said with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder as he passed by on his way to the door. “Take care of the munchkins, yeah?”
“I’ll do that,” I replied, the reality of the day ahead settling on my shoulders as he disappeared out the door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly in the quiet kitchen. I was in charge ofbreakfast and getting the girls ready for school, and then it was head down, working out my next research project. Now, if my head survived this hangover, I had to start again.
Dr Jameson Hennessy, time of brain cell death, oh-seven-fifteen.
The sound of feet thumping down the stairs broke the peace. Scarlett and Daisy burst into the kitchen, their faces bright with the boundless energy of youth I envied on mornings like these.
“Jamie! We decided on teddy bear pancakes!” Daisy declared in a high-pitched demand that brooked no argument.
Scarlett nodded vigorously. “With lots of syrup! And strawberries!”
I set my mug down with a resigned smile, the remnants of my earlier contemplations about Craig fading as the immediate needs of Oliver’s daughters took precedence. “All right, teddy bear pancakes it is,” I said, pushing aside the nausea and the whole spinning head thing, pulling out the ingredients and firing up the grill.
As I mixed the batter and poured it into the shapes they demanded, the breakfast chaos took over, leaving no room for lingering thoughts of why Craig had gone without a goodbye, how embarrassing I’d been, or what might have been had he stayed. The kitchen filled with the scent of pancakes and the sound of delighted laughter, pulling me firmly back into the present. Here, now, this was what mattered. The rest would have to wait.
