Chapter 12

  Wyatt

  Tonight was the second night of Anthony’s road trip. It was a little weird being here in his house alone. He’d left me instructions for feeding the cats, and I’d made sure to keep up on the litterbox, fill their water dishes, and entertain them.

  Otherwise, there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do. I wasn’t bored per se; just not quite sure how to fill the time now that I wasn’t sweating bullets over food, shelter, and avoiding cops and criminals alike. That was especially surreal as rain slid down the huge windows overlooking Lake Washington. How long had it been since the sound of rain had done anything but fill me with dread? It was so weird to just listen to it falling from inside the dry, warm house, knowing the temperature was going to drop again tonight and freeze everything.

  As the day wore on and the afternoon started to turn dark, I worried about some of the other homeless people I’d known. I felt guilty for being in here—being in a freaking mansion in Medina, for God’s sake—while they were cold, wet, and hungry out there. Hopefully they’d found enough shelter and warmth to get through the night. I just wished there was something I could do, but it wasn’t like I could just grab one of Anthony’s cars, drive downtown, and scoop up everyone I knew to come stay in his house. Best-case scenario, that would land us all in jail.

  But as I gazed out the window, watching the slow-moving line of headlights crawling across the 520 bridge, I made a promise to myself: if I got back on my feet for real, I was doing something for the people who were still out there. No idea what yet—there was no telling how firmly I’d be on my feet and what means I’d have to do anything for anyone. I’d do something, though. Even if all I could do was hand out some sack lunches to people. A few organizations around Seattle did that, and I’d always been seriously grateful to see one of those vans pull up.

  Hopefully, though, I’d be able to do more.

  First things first—getting back on my feet. I’d called my lawyer earlier, and he was, as always, waiting on the VA to respond to him. No progress since the last time we’d spoken.

  On the bright side, the longer this dragged out, the more back pay they’d owe me if they finally gave me the higher disability percentage. By the time it resolved, they could owe me a serious chunk of change.

  Assuming, of course, it resolved in my favor. There was no guarantee of that, and I was starting to think even my attorney was losing confidence.

  “I’m going to fight this ’til the end,” he’d told me. “You know I will. I just wish I could promise you it’s going to end the way we want it to.”

  How nice. The Army took twelve years of my life, traumatized me beyond repair, and ruined my body, and we couldn’t even guarantee they’d compensate me for all the damage.

  “Should’ve gone to college,” I muttered to myself as I stepped away from the windows. I’d be ass deep in student debt, but I wouldn’t be wrecked physically and the only sleep I lost would be over making my payments.

  “Everyone told me the G.I. Bill was free college,” a buddy of mine had said when we were both recovering in that hospital in Germany. Gesturing at the bandages all over his left side, he’d quipped, “Cost me a fucking arm and a leg.”

  We’d laughed about that because no one survived the Army without a fucked-up sense of humor. I’d had no idea in that moment that the surgery I’d had that morning to repair my ankle had turned my foot into a timebomb, and I’d eventually become an amputee myself. I wondered how he was doing these days.

  Lily nudged my hand, drawing me back into the present. I hadn’t even realized the train of thought had started sending me into a dark place, but as I paused to pet her, my pulse steadily came back down. She’d also been there throughout the call with my lawyer, leaning hard against my chest as I’d knuckled through the frustrating conversation. After I’d ended the call, we’d sat there for a good ten minutes until I was back on level ground.

  I gazed down at her and sighed as I ran my hand over her smooth head. The last several months—hell, the last several years—had been incredibly dark. I didn’t want to imagine where I’d be now if Lily hadn’t come into my life.

  “Good girl,” I murmured, and her tail wagged. Then I took out my phone again. I was running a little low on minutes, so I’d need to top it up soon. I had enough to make an important weekly call, though.

  I kept a hand on Lily’s back as the phone rang on the other end. After three rings, I worried there wouldn’t be an answer, which could just mean I’d picked a bad time… or it could mean things were bad.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” I muttered into the silence. “Please pick up.”

  The phone rang once more, but just before it would’ve clicked over to voicemail, my mother said, “Hi, honey!”

  I smiled. “Hey. How is everything going? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, no. I just left my phone in the kitchen and it took me a minute to get to it. How are you and Lily doing?”

  “We’re okay,” I said more truthfully than usual. “Just been a little busy lately.”

  She sighed heavily. “They’re still working you into the ground, aren’t they?”

  I didn’t even wince anymore, honestly. As much as I hated lying to my mother, it was the lesser of two evils. She wouldn’t be able to handle the truth about my situation, and she had more than enough on her plate right now. I swallowed. “Yeah, but it means I’m getting a lot of hours, so that’s good. Keeps the bills paid.”

  Ugh. That hadn’t even been true when I’d still been employed. The hours, yes. Keeping the bills paid? Yeah, right.

  “I just wish they’d let you take some time off,” she said. “Is there any chance we’ll see you over Christmas?”

  This time, I did wince. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger and tried not to let the fatigue into my voice. “We’ll see. It’s, um… It’s not looking good, though.”

  Her disappointed sigh made my chest ache. “Well, if anything changes, you let us know. We’d love to see you.”

  “I know.” I pushed back the lump threatening to rise in my throat. “I wish I could.” Then I took a deep breath and asked, “How’s Dad doing?”

  Mom sighed again, but it wasn’t disappointment. Just pure, bone-deep exhaustion. “He’s hanging in there. His last scan looked good, so the treatment seems to be working for now.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “How is he feeling?”

  “He’s tired a lot,” she admitted. “The new chemo doesn’t make him as sick as the last one, but it wears him out.” From the heavy fatigue in her voice, my father wasn’t the only one being run down by this round of treatment.

  “At least it seems to be working,” I said softly. “How much longer is he on this round?”

  “He’ll get his last infusion next week. Then he’ll have a break for a few weeks to let his system recover, and his oncologist will make a decision from there.” She brightened minutely. “Hopefully that means he’ll be feeling better over Christmas.”

  “That’s good,” I murmured. “Really good.”

  “It is.” She paused. “Sweetie, I understand your situation. But if you can ask your bosses—we’d really love to have you here this year. I… We can get you a train ticket if you need it.”

  I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut. I could read between the lines. We’d talked a few times about the progression of Dad’s cancer and the long-term prognosis. Though the chemo had slowed things down and bought him some time, he wasn’t coming back from this. Sooner or later, the cancer was going to win. Mom didn’t come out and say it, but I suspected the consensus was that this would be my dad’s last Christmas. At the very least, the last one he truly enjoyed, since I didn’t imagine he’d be anything but worse a year from now, assuming he was still with us at all.

  And I couldn’t be there. Goddammit.

  “I’ll try,” I told her. “I’ll definitely call if I can’t be there.”

  “We’d love to hear from you.”

  I swallowed. “Can I talk to Dad?”

  “He’s sleeping right now. Today’s been a rough one.”

  “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll call again soon.”

  We talked for a couple more minutes, and when we ended the call, I sagged back against Anthony’s couch. Lily crawled up into my lap and leaned against my chest, and I petted her while I let my emotions settle. I wasn’t spiraling into a panic or a flashback, but this wasn’t much better. I hated lying to my parents. I hated being this far away while my dad slowly withered away and my mom buckled under the weight of caring for him. More than once I’d considered getting myself to Portland to help out, but my parents were financially threadbare. The pittance I received from the VA wouldn’t be enough to offset the cost of me living there, and Mom would be stressed about caring for me as well as my dad. The last thing she needed was another mouth to feed… especially one that occasionally had loud and violent night terrors that woke up the whole house.

  I would be a burden on them, so I stayed here, and I kept my destitution and homelessness out of their sight as much as I could. If I couldn’t help them, the least I could do was not pile on them.

  Lily pushed herself up and licked under my chin. I exhaled and patted her side. “Don’t know how I’d get through any of this without you, kiddo.”

  She gave my face a lick, and I managed a laugh.

  If nothing else, I was physically in a good place right now. That would only last so long, and the best thing I could do was take advantage of it and recharge mentally. The military didn’t leave us in warzones longer than a few months at a time because of battle fatigue, and in a way, that was what I had right now. By some inexplicable miracle, I had ten days of R&R from the war I’d been living, and I could not spend that time wallowing in things I couldn’t change.

  I had to get my head as right as I could. Tonight, I had Anthony’s house to myself with a whole evening laid out in front of me, and I needed to spend it doing something other than tapdancing around all my mental landmines. I’d made a vow to help others living on the street when I was in a position to do so, and I’d made contact with my lawyer about the VA. I’d find a way to see my parents one way or the other, hopefully while Dad was still with us, but there wasn’t much I could do about that tonight. The best thing I could do right now was distract the hell out of myself.

  Fortunately, my miraculous host was playing hockey tonight, and I’d quickly learned that hockey games held my attention so completely that I couldn’t think about anything else. Perfect.

  First things first: dinner.

  The instant I started rattling around in the kitchen, both cats materialized on the counter. There were two islands in here—my God, this kitchen was huge—and the one I was using was two levels. There was the counter surface that I was using, and then a higher section where Anthony and I had eaten a couple of times while sitting on the barstools. Moose was currently on the higher section, sitting up as tall as he could with his long tail wrapped around his enormous paws. He was huge anyway, but when he sat up there, he was above my eye level.

  “You know housecats are supposed to be small, right?” I asked him as I started arranging cheese, meat, and condiments for a sandwich. “You’re supposed to be like… half the size you are.”

  He watched me with narrowed eyes, and I couldn’t tell if it was his normal resting bitch face—because holy shit, Maine Coons had some legendary RBF—or if he was telegraphing, “Shut up and give me some cheese, human.”

  Bear was also sitting up straight and tall, but he wasn’t nearly as imposing as Moose. In part because he had those huge round eyes that always seemed to be asking, “Huh?” And also because, being the genius he was… he was sitting in the sink.

  “Weirdo.” I chuckled as I continued assembling my sandwich. I picked up the package of lunchmeat, and as I was pulling that open, Bear suddenly lunged out of the sink, grabbed the pack of cheese, and took off.

  “What the—dude, seriously?” I hobbled after him with Lily on my heels. Fortunately he didn’t go far. He took it into the living room, then dropped it on the floor and started pawing at it. When that didn’t work, he bit the plastic and picked it up again, but that didn’t help to get it open.

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. “You aren’t the brightest crayon in the box, are you, buddy?” I tousled his ears, then reached for the cheese. He smacked my hand. No claws, but there was some strength behind those giant mitts of his. “Hey! Let me pick it up, and I’ll share it with you, dumbass.” He again tried to bat my hand away, but I got the pack up off the floor.

  Lily looked at both of us like were complete idiots.

  “Don’t judge me, pup.” I looked toward the kitchen, where Moose had twisted around and was eyeing all of us. “No judgment from you either, cat.”

  He flipped his tail.

  I just laughed and headed back into the kitchen. I wondered what Anthony would think if he checked his cameras and found me having conversations with his animals. Then again, he talked to his boys constantly. I suspected he’d have done the same with Lily if she wasn’t a service dog; he was one of the few people I’d met who’d seemed to understand from the start not to distract a working dog from her job. He’d pet her, talk to her, and offer her treats when she was off duty, but if her vest was on, he acted like she wasn’t there. Perfect.

  I gave both the cats and Lily some lunchmeat as well as a little bit of cheese, finished making my sandwich, and then settled in on the couch right as the pre-game was wrapping up. Lily jumped up on the cushion beside me and rested her head on my thigh. Moose sprawled across the back of the couch while Bear perched on the armrest. Once they’d each had another nibble—I was such a sucker, not gonna lie—I started eating my sandwich and fixed my attention on the hockey game.

  I didn’t know if I’d ever fully understand the game, but the commentators filled in a lot of the gaps. The replays helped, too. I still didn’t quite understand the difference between slashing and hooking. I was confused as hell about what actually constituted a cross check, considering I’d see like six players do the exact same thing before one was called for it. And though Anthony had explained offside to me, I still wasn’t completely sure I grasped it. Then again, the refs might’ve been confused about it too, because the commentators insisted one call wasn’t even remotely offside, and then five minutes later, they were chastising the refs for not calling something offside.

  This sport was weird.

  One thing I had caught on to, though, was that the men who played the sport were smoking hot. I’d always imagined hockey players as guys with mullets and half their teeth missing. Or maybe built like linebackers, which were absolutely not my type.

  No one told me this sport was full of chiseled jaws, sharp cheekbones, and sweaty hair. Their gear wasn’t the most flattering in the world, but it couldn’t hide the agility or the sheer athleticism of the sport. I was in awe as the players whipped around the ice, turned on dimes, and somehow not only stayed on their skates, but controlled their sticks and the puck and seemed to know where all their teammates were at a given time.

  And God help me whenever the camera zeroed in on the man with number twelve on his back.

  Anthony was… wow. One second, he was gracefully skating around and between other players, controlling the puck the entire time as if it were the easiest thing in the world. The next, he was slamming someone into the wall hard enough to make the glass flex. At one point, someone crashed into him, apparently trying to knock him away from the puck, but Anthony barely flinched while the other guy bounced off and fell on his ass.

  Then Anthony passed the puck to a teammate, who sent it screaming across the ice to someone else, who shot it right into the goal. After the replay, the camera zoomed in on the scorer and his teammates, who were sharing hugs and back slaps to celebrate, and—

  Holy. Shit.

  The bright smile on Anthony’s face made the living room tilt. No shyness. No self-consciousness. No worrying about his boyfriend, who was on the bench at that point. Just excitement and elation for his teammate and for his team. Then they were skating away to fist bump the other guys on the bench.

  His shift was over, so he took a seat on the bench, and the camera stayed on him.

  “Aussie’s been looking better tonight,” the commentator said. “He’s picked up two secondary assists, including on the captain’s goal just a moment ago.”

  “You’re right about that,” the other said. “He’s also put up three shots on goal, which is more than in his last three games combined. This could be a fluke, or it could be Austin finally turning his season around.”

  I only half heard their remarks. I was too focused on watching Anthony towel some sweat off his face as he and another player peered at an iPad. The intense concentration, the flush in his cheeks, the competitive glint in his eyes…

  I pushed out a breath. Hockey players were definitely hot. Anthony Austin was… I didn’t have words. He was gorgeous anyway. Even when he was just wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, he was unreasonably sexy. Throw some hockey gear on him, put him on the ice, and let him work up a sweat?

  Well, hello there, libido that’s been quiet for way too long.

  I fidgeted on the couch. The last thing I needed was to get a hard-on right now. Anthony did have cameras in this part of the house after all, and that would just be… seriously awkward.

  The period ended, and the players filed off the ice. I decided to busy myself doing something other than sitting here with my impure thoughts about Anthony, so I got up and wandered into the kitchen to get something else to eat. I still felt weird about helping myself to what was in Anthony’s fridge and cupboards, but he’d insisted. He’d even done an Instacart order before he’d left for the trip, making sure the house was well-stocked with a few things I liked.

  I had no idea how I could ever begin to make any of this up to him, but I vowed for the millionth time that I’d find a way.