I smiled to myself as I crouched to greet my boys. I always felt bad leaving them alone. There was a reason I had someone cat-sit whenever I had to be away for more than a couple of nights, but even these shorter trips made me feel guilty.

  “Did you guys miss me?” I asked as they arched their backs and purred. Moose rubbed against my legs. Bear flopped onto this back, and when I scratched his belly, he purred even louder. They were a balm to the soul these days. It was nice to have someone who was happy to see me.

  Wyatt didn’t emerge from the bedroom and none of the lights in the house were on, so he was probably still asleep. Fine by me—it was stupid early and I was ready to pass out myself.

  I left my suitcase in the kitchen—something I never dared to do when Simon was here—scooped Moose up onto my shoulder, and said, “C’mon, Bear. Let’s go get some sleep.”

  He was immediately upright again, trotting beside me as I carried Moose to the stairs. Given that he wasn’t the brightest creature on God’s green earth, he didn’t completely understand physics, so he tried to weave between my legs as I walked up the steps.

  “Dude,” I said, trying to avoid him. “Do you want me and your brother to die? Is that it? Because you’re not a beneficiary on my life insurance. It’s not going to be all sunshine and catnip if you murder us.” I almost stepped on his paw but managed to miss. “Cats who kill their dads go to Al-cat-traz. You know that, right?”

  He jumped past me, threw himself down on the step, and started rolling around on his back and flailing his huge paws in the air.

  I rolled my eyes, steadied Moose, and carefully stepped over Bear. I made it to the bedroom without Bear knocking us down the stairs, and I set Moose on the pillow that had once been Simon’s. I paused, expecting a pang of sadness over that. Simon wasn’t coming back. We were over. That pillow was Moose’s from here on out.

  But I felt… nothing. It wasn’t even that I was numb. More like there was nothing there to feel.

  Eh. It would catch up with me eventually. I gave the boys a couple of treats, then went into the bathroom to take a leak and brush my teeth. Within minutes, I was sliding into bed next to my cats.

  Usually, this was the point when I’d suddenly be wide awake. Exhausted and desperate for a nap, yes, but my brain would start spinning too fast about too many things. It would take a good half hour or more of tossing and turning before I’d finally lapse into restless sleep.

  This time, Bear curled up beside me like he always did.

  I wrapped my arm around him.

  Listened to both cats purring.

  And fell right to sleep.

  I slept until almost ten, which I hadn’t intended. Felt good, though. Less like I’d spend the rest of the day in that post-redeye zombie state.

  The boys didn’t mind, either. Moose was on his back with his tail encroaching on my pillow. Bear was stretched out beside me with a paw over his eyes. I reached down to scratch behind his ear. He didn’t move, but a low, loud purr started up.

  I couldn’t help smiling. I loved these rare lazy mornings with the cats. I didn’t even have practice today. We usually played the night before Thanksgiving, but the way the schedule had shaken out, we’d scored three days off. Saturday, we’d be back to it—morning skate and a game against a division rival. Today, tomorrow, and Friday? I could be an absolute sloth.

  Except I had promised Wyatt we’d go pick up a few things for him today, hadn’t I? And I doubted he and his PTSD would enjoy the Black Friday crowd if we put it off until after the holiday, so we needed to do this today.

  Besides, if I lounged around in bed too long, I’d screw up my sleep pattern, and then I’d be a mess for Friday’s game.

  So… fine.

  I got up, and I paused to stretch. Neither cat so much as twitched. I chuckled. “Lazy asses.” Then I headed into the bathroom for a shower.

  When I came out, though, both cats were gone. That was unusual. They always hung around and waited for me to get dressed. Moose had learned that if he did just the right amount of purring, chirping, and walking around with his back arched, I’d give him treats. Bear had learned that Moose was smarter than him and could con me out of treats. They were both, shall we say, food-motivated.

  Which was why it all made perfect sense when I made it downstairs and found the pair of them sitting on the kitchen island, intently focused on the eggs Wyatt was making.

  He turned to me and smiled. “Morning. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  “Oh, good. Because I kind of spaced out that there was someone here, and I wasn’t exactly quiet.” I grimaced. Nodding at the cats, I added, “They sure heard me.”

  “Is that why they both left in such a hurry?” He focused on sprinkling some grated cheese over his eggs. “I kind of vaguely remember them jumping down, but didn’t think much of it.”

  “Ah, so they did sleep with you.” I crossed the kitchen to the coffeemaker and pulled a cup from the cabinet. “They didn’t give you too much hassle while I was gone, did they?”

  “Pfft. Nah. They were great company.” He offered up pieces of cheese to both cats, having apparently learned it was better to feed them at the same time than play the “but I didn’t get one” game. Moose was a pro at that—gobble up his piece, wait until Bear got one, and then fix pitiful eyes on me as if I’d forgotten to give him one. Manipulative little shit.

  As I made myself some coffee, I said, “So, I got a later start than I’d planned, but we still have plenty of time to go out shopping if you want to.”

  Wyatt froze and looked at me with wide eyes. “You… really want to do all that?”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t just making conversation. Lily’s got her follow-up with Dr. Green today, you both need some things, and we’re better off going today than this weekend. Since… Black Friday and all that.”

  He shuddered, which made me think I was right on the money that he wouldn’t be comfortable in that dense of a crowd. Focusing on his food again, he murmured, “I’d really appreciate it. I just don’t want to, you know…” He turned to me again, his expression bordering on shy. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You’re not.” I paused, then decided maybe some candor would ease his uncertainty. “Listen, back when I played youth hockey, my dad lost his job. All of a sudden my parents could barely afford to pay the electric bill, never mind keep me in hockey gear. There was a pro player who sponsored our youth league, and he not only covered my gear and all the expenses that come with playing hockey, he helped our family out for a few months while Dad found another job. So…” I half-shrugged. “Consider this me paying it forward.”

  “Oh,” he said softly, and I was relieved to see him relaxing a little. “Okay, I guess, um… Yeah, we can do that.”

  “Awesome.” I smiled. “Let me grab some breakfast—er, lunch, I guess—and then we can go.”

  Chapter 14

  Wyatt

  Our first stop was at a pet store near Anthony’s house. Neither of us liked Lily riding untethered in the car, and her seat belt had been among the items stolen by the cops. A few bucks later, she was safely clipped into the backseat of Anthony’s Land Rover.

  “Okay.” I settled into the passenger seat. “Now I can breathe.”

  Anthony glanced at her in the rearview. “Yeah, she’ll be fine back there.” He turned to me. “Are you good sitting separately from her, though?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I pulled on my own seat belt. “She’s still close by, and she can alert on me if she needs to.”

  He nodded. “All right. If you prefer to sit back there with her, I won’t be offended.”

  “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

  We exchanged smiles, and he backed out of the parking space.

  Our next stop was the vet clinic. Dr. Green had wanted to do a follow-up on Lily after she’d been on the antibiotics for her skin infection. To my great relief, the infection had completely cleared up. Her skin looked great, and especially with a Doberman’s short fur, the small hairless patch would be gone in no time.

  “Finish up the oral antibiotics,” the vet told me, “and keep the ointment in case she gets any other irritated areas. It looks great, though.” She smiled. “She’s in perfect health.”

  That was a relief. One of my biggest fears out there had been Lily getting sick. Or getting hurt and then getting sick. That she’d only managed to get a mild skin infection, which had now cleared up, took a huge load off my mind. At least now I knew what to watch for, and I had some ointment in case it happened again.

  I managed to pay for the visit with my account; I suspected Dr. Green was giving me a discount, but she didn’t draw any attention to it, which I appreciated. She couldn’t give away her services, but I was grateful that she seemed compassionate about my situation. My pride could just shut up and deal with it.

  After we’d left the clinic, it was time for our shopping trip. While we’d eaten breakfast, Anthony and I had made a list of the things Lily and I had lost, and I’d explained the things I was most concerned about replacing. A tent, blankets, and clothing, mostly. Anthony said he knew of an outdoorsy store that would probably have almost everything, so we headed out that way.

  I just hadn’t realized he meant that outdoorsy store.

  I started to catch a clue when we headed into Redmond, which was swanky and expensive like a lot of the cities in this area. None of the glass skyscrapers of Bellevue or the massive houses of Medina (at least not in town), but this was the land of Microsoft and the dotcoms. Even through the dotcom bust and various recessions, money had continued to flow here, especially the old Microsoft and Boeing money from the 1980s and 1990s.

  And right in the heart of one of the shopping centers was a three-story building that was clearly going for the artfully rustic aesthetic that was so popular around here: rust-colored walls, irregular lines at odd angles, enormous windows. At one end, encased in glass, was an indoor climbing wall that went all the way to the third floor.

  Gazing up at the store as Anthony pulled into a parking space, I said, “Are you sure about this place? They’re expensive as hell.”

  “They also have the gear that’ll actually last.” He shut off the engine. “I’d rather spend a little extra and know it won’t fall apart on you.”

  I chewed my lip. I didn’t want him spending a ton of money on me, but he had a point. This was the kind of bougie place that had earned the right to sell equipment for those prices. They’d even outfitted a number of Everest and K2 expeditions—including one that had made the news a couple of years ago because a group survived thanks in large part to their gear—so this place had the good shit.

  Pride be damned, I couldn’t afford to insist that we go someplace cheaper. Not when we were buying things to keep me and my dog alive through the winter.

  So I nodded and got out. I let Lily out of the back, and the three of us headed inside.

  In a place this big, I expected to be overwhelmed by noise and people. Especially with holiday decorations everywhere, I braced for the chaos of Christmas shopping.

  But it was a Wednesday afternoon and Black Friday hadn’t yet kicked off the holiday shopping season, so the place was almost deserted. A handful of people wandered the aisles, but that was it. As I took in the almost serene atmosphere, I realized most people were either at work right now, traveling for Thanksgiving, or making last-minute runs for holiday food, none of which landed them in this place. Perfect.

  “I thought it would be more crowded,” I said.

  “Not on a weekday.” Anthony grabbed a shopping cart. “I usually come here in the morning if I can help it. It’s a ghost town.”

  “Oh yeah?” I glanced at him as we followed the signs toward the camping gear. “You come here a lot?” My teeth snapped shut. God, that sounded like a fucking pickup line!

  He didn’t seem to notice, though, and shrugged. “I snowboard, and I hike and bike a lot during the off season, so I’m either here or at one of the bike shops.”

  “Really? So, like, street biking? Mountain biking?”

  “All of the above.” He chuckled and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a silvery scar on his forearm. “I think my coach would prefer I didn’t do so much of the offroad shit, but…”

  “Ouch. How’d you manage that?”

  “They do these rides out in the mountains during the summer.” He tugged his sleeve back into place and slid his hands into his pockets. “You take the ski lift up, then ride down. They’re seriously fun, but one year I hit a bump, and… Well…”

  I shuddered. “That sounds painful. Especially since going downhill usually means going fast, right?”

  “Well, yeah.” He shot me a toothy grin. “That’s the whole point.”

  “Okay, I get that, but…” I tapped my arm in the same spot as his scar. “It hurts more when you crash, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” he admitted. “So I just try not to crash.”

  “Uh-huh. And how does that work out for you?”

  “Pretty good most of the time.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Is that a hockey player thing? Or a you thing?”

  Anthony chuckled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you play a high-speed sport that involves getting slammed into the wall every five seconds, and—”

  “I beg your pardon.” He sniffed with mock indignance. “I sometimes slam them into the wall, thank you very much.”

  “Uh-huh. Exactly my point. So you play a crazy ass sport, then during the off season, you go hurtling down a mountain on a bike and just go ‘meh’ when you rip your arm open.”

  He pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Okay, yeah, that sounds like me.”

  “Right. So is that just you? Or is it hockey players in general?”

  He rocked his head back and forth. “Little from column A, little from column B.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I laughed again. “I can’t really judge—half the reason I joined the Army was that I was an adrenaline junkie.” I paused. “Well, okay, that was probably the whole reason, technically.”

  Anthony eyed me as we slowed to a stop beside some floor model tents. “Technically?”

  “Let’s just say I spent more of high school doing stupid dangerous shit than I did studying, so by the time I needed to nail down a career path, my grades didn’t leave a lot of options.”

  “Ah.” He nodded sharply. “Gotcha. I probably would’ve been in the same boat, but I had to keep my grades up to play hockey.”

  “Parents’ rules?”

  “And coaches’. Plus one of the pathways to the League is through college, and there was no guarantee I’d get any kind of scholarship. So I busted my ass even though I wasn’t that great at school.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t great at it either,” I said. “I mean, I could hold my own when I put in the effort, but there were definitely some subjects that were not my strong point.”

  “Such as?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Fucking math.”

  Anthony laughed and offered up his fist. “Same, my friend. Fuck math.”

  Chuckling, I bumped my fist against his. “I think that’s what put me off some of the sciences, too. They sounded interesting, but…” I made a face. “Too much math.”

  “Seriously,” he grumbled. “I stuck with biology all through high school. Chemistry and physics were way too…” He waved a hand. “Mathy.”

  I snorted. “Agreed.” I looked over the tents arranged on the floor in front of us. “Okay. I guess this is a good place to start?”

  “Sure.” Anthony smiled. “I’m following your lead.”

  In the back of my mind, I’d expected this shopping trip to be an exercise in humiliation. Necessary, sure, but excruciating. Like I’d be walking around with my head hung, feeling a little lower every time we put something into the cart.

  But to my surprise, shopping with Anthony was pretty damn enjoyable. Yeah, there was still that ball of lead in my stomach because being in my situation fucking sucked, and there was equal parts gratitude and humiliation over Anthony doing this for me. Mostly, though, we were just talking about whatever while we wandered the store.

  As we looked at tents, he told me about a camping trip he took as a kid where his older brother was convinced there was a scorpion in their tent. They’d torn everything out of it, shaken out every pack, boot, and sleeping bag, and scoured every inch and seam, until they’d finally found it: the twig that, out of the corner of his brother’s eye, had looked like a scorpion.

  In turn, I told him about the time my unit was doing some training out in the field, and before we’d even started putting up our tents, our commander had ordered all of us to roll in this giant mud puddle.

  “Why the hell would he do that?” Anthony asked.

  “So we’d stop trying to stay dry.” I rolled my eyes. “His philosophy was that you were going to get wet, cold, and uncomfortable sooner or later, and you were better off just getting used to it than wasting all your energy staying dry.”

  Anthony’s eyebrows climbed as I spoke. “That… sounds like you just spent all your energy being wet, cold, and uncomfortable.”

  “We did.” I huffed sharply. “I think he just got a kick out of being able to tell a bunch of privates to roll in the mud.”

  “Nice guy.”

  “Not at that rank.”

  When we got into comparing the specs of a couple of tents, or figuring out which first aid kit struck the right balance of complete, compact, and lightweight, or when I was trying on some parkas, Anthony offered his opinions but never tried to override me. He really did follow my lead, and he accepted that I knew what I needed. He even reminded me a few times that it was okay to get something I liked.

  “As long as both options keep you warm and dry,” he said as I tried on some sturdy, arctic-grade boots, “there’s no reason you can’t go with something that looks good too.”