54. Cody
Cody
“ S o.”
I glower at the dashboard, but only Brogan shoving his big, fat nose into my neck eases the frown—considering he saved my ass, I haven’t replaced the net.
“I hate it when you start a session like that.”
“How would you prefer me to start it?”
“Goodbye?”
Mike snorts. “As your therapist, I’m duty bound to scribble down that you have issues with opening up.”
“You don’t say.”
“You keep paying me,” he points out, and in the background, I can hear him opening a can. The soft fizzing sound has me reaching for my own pop then lowering the backrest of my seat.
Sessions have been more difficult to attend than I’d like.
What with Tee taking up most of my non-working hours, speaking with Mike has definitely shuffled lower down the totem pole of priorities.
After I shared that she knew I was her Butch now, Mike’s curiosity hasn’t helped matters.
“You just reminded me—I need to stop the automatic payment.”
“Stahhhp. You’re hurting my feelings.”
“I’m sure.” I scoff. “You’re one of the country’s premier therapists.”
“Still don’t know how that happened.”
“You wrote a book, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t expect anyone to read it.” He tsks. “It’s actually annoying how popular it was.”
“My heart bleeds for you.”
“As it should. So.”
“Back to that, are we?”
“Yup. Gone flying yet?”
Silence falls between us.
“Shall I take that as a no?”
I don’t deign to answer. “Cole’s getting married tomorrow.”
“I’m letting you change the subject.”
I rub my knuckles over Brogan’s nose. “Tee’s composed the music for the event.”
“What a lovely gift.”
“Cole and Mia will appreciate it.” They’d better or I’ll beat the crap out of Cole, wedding day or not. “The house is full of people.”
“Ugh, people are the worst.”
“These are hockey bros too.”
“The actual worst. So… you sleeping?”
“I am, actually.” Tee’s better than melatonin for my circadian rhythms.
“Nightmares?”
“Better than usual.”
Orgasms keep the demons at bay.
“So, why do you sound like the Grinch who stole Thanksgiving? And I’m not talking about your brother who literally is stealing Thanksgiving. Couldn’t he have picked a better date than tomorrow?”
Morosely, I mumble, “The season’s started, so no.”
“Are you a closet hockey player?”
“Nah.”
“Then why would you care if it’s started?”
“I watch it.”
“Do you really want to talk about this when you’re paying me three-hundred bucks an hour? In fact, can I pay you three hundred not to talk about sports? You do know that’s how governments control the masses, right?”
“I’ll pay you four hundred not to go on a commie spiel about organized sports.”
“Christmas is coming up in a couple months,” Mike teases.
“The house is overflowing with hockey players who are here for my bro’s wedding.”
“Shit time to get married. Even I know most of ‘em get married in the off-season.”
“Cole’s hockey family is Canadian so he knew they would come if he held it on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, shit. Of course.”
“For the most part, the schedule’s worked out for him. He plays in New York but there’s no game between Saturday night and Wednesday, when they have to be in the city.”
“That is lucky.”
“Some of his friends can only be there for the ceremony before flying out again. They laid on a private jet to get everyone back to Chicago in time. Then, they have to fly to their respective homes.”
“How the other half lives,” he drawls.
“Guess it’s proof that he’s found his people.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I’m happy for him but… it makes me remember that I lost mine.”
“You’re finding a new place for yourself though, aren’t you? At the detachment.”
“No.” I grimace. “Maybe. Marty’s all right. Dion’s a twatwaffle—Tee’s label, not mine. It’s quieter than I’d like, but that’s probably what I need. Nunez’s competence is appreciated, but that makes sense—he served too.” Brogan’s big, wet nose nuzzles my chin. “I have extra roles now.” The sanctuary takes up a lot of my time, despite having Bree and Sinjin on board.
“That’s good.”
“Is it?”
“You tell me.”
“I…” I hesitate. Then, I think about how goddamn happy Cole was when his guests and hockey fam started showing up at the ranch and how that happiness increased with every incoming guest. “…wish it were my wedding.”
He whistles. “Big step.”
“I know. Too fast.”
“Statement or question?”
“Statement and wishful thinking.” I release a breath but can’t deny that I feel better for making the admission. “They’re breaking ground on a plot of land on my family’s ranch in a couple weeks.”
“What about it? The dog haven you mentioned before?”
“No, they broke ground on that a few weeks back. I wanted to get started on my own place?—”
“Oh, the life of the idle rich. With a click of your fingers, architects have all the plans ready and local government just rolls over so you can scratch their belly.”
“Has to come with some perks,” I jeer then wince. “I know it’s unfair.”
“Didn’t stop you from abusing the system.”
“No. It didn’t.”
“Your conversation’s very sporadic today. Are you getting tired of living with your family?”
“I’m getting tired of sharing Tee with my family.”
That earns me another whistle.
“I feel like that and she’s still keeping us under wraps,” I growl.
“What was your deal? That you’d show her you were sorry for abandoning her?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s that going?”
I stare at the steering wheel. “Good. I think?”
“So, we can approach this in three ways. One, she’s terrified you’re going to do it again and is holding you at a distance to prevent future hurt.
“Two, she really doesn’t want her mom to catch wedding fever which, trust me, is a genuine issue. Wedding-struck mothers are the worst.
“Three, she wants to hold your relationship close to the chest, enjoy it without scrutiny, and just savor the moment. Which do you think it is?”
“At the beginning,” I muse, “I think it was two. Or at least, that was what she wanted it to be. But did you see that article about Cole and Mia in the tabloids?”
“Cody, do I seem like the sort of guy who reads the tabloids?”
“You seem like the kind of guy who reads conspiracy theory blogs.”
“Precisely. Now, what did the tabloids have to say?”
“That they’re splitting up. That organizing the wedding was making Mia a bridezilla according to close sources.”
“Isn’t your little brother organizing the wedding?”
“He is.” I chuckle. “Couldn’t be made up of more bullshit than that. Zee and Tee didn’t like it though. Got uppety on Mia’s behalf.”
“As future sisters-in-law should, hmm?”
Everything inside me clenches.
Future sisters-in-law.
I am so fucking gone for Tee.
Rubbing my eyes, I rumble, “Yeah.”
“Like that, huh?”
“Fuck off.”
“Where would I fuck off to?” Mike counters, but his smug satisfaction makes me wish I could smack him.
“Outer Mars.”
“Sounds chilly. Okay, so, what else?”
“A dumb fashion magazine pulled Zee’s clothes to shreds the other day. They had her latest outfits photographed and laid out for the world to dissect. And a tell-all exposé on Clyde’s interactions with the federal government was released too.”
“What you’re saying is you don’t blame her for wanting to keep things on the DL?”
“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“I’m a contrary motherfucker.”
“You know, I’m glad I didn’t have to diagnose that. Self-awareness is so important for your journey.”
I roll my eyes. “Didn’t need to lay down three Robert Bordens to work that one out, Mike.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“The answer is… talk to her.”
“When isn’t that the answer with you?”
“I know. I get bored of saying it as much as you get bored of hearing it. Ergo, let’s not waste oxygen, which is a limited resource, and you just say, ‘Yes, Mike, I’ll talk to the woman who I want to marry one day, preferably tomorrow.’”
“She’s a pain in the ass.” I grin. “Conversations with her end up in bed.”
“What you get up to on a mattress is between you and the sheets.”
That has me cackling. “Dirty bastard.”
“That’s what she said.”
Grin widening, I shake my head. “She likes orgasms.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“She prefers them to arguments. Which, now that I think about it, makes me a rare commodity. She’s always bickering with her best friends. I think she bickers with herself, to be honest. I walked into her bedroom yesterday and she was arguing with her English horn.”
“Madness and genius share a border.”
“I’m going to talk to her.”
“Good thinking.”
“Maybe not today.”
“Why not?”
“Full house. Lots going on. Callan’s organizing the ceremony and he’s demanding perfection. Not exactly conducive to romance.”
“Listen. This situation with her mother…”
“What about it?”
“Sometimes, the person we don’t want to know about something is really the person we wish knew but we’re too cautious and, often enough, too vulnerable to come out with the truth.”
“That’s kinda wise.”
“I know. I’m a regular Yoda.”
“She says her parents are obsessed with her being normal.”
“Being normal’s overrated.”
“Not in her household. You think I should go behind her back and tell her mom the situation?”
“No. I think you should suggest that you tell her mom together. And, if and when her mother gets overly excited about the future, you calm it down and let her know how it’s going to go. You do know how it’s going to go, right?”
“If she’ll have me,” I rasp, “Tee’s going to be Mrs. Cody Korhonen.”
“So, if her mom knows that, perhaps she won’t pressure Tee, which, from what I can tell, is her source of concern. Most women fear talking about the future as men often are more worried about the present. If you tell both women what your plans are for the future, perhaps they can enjoy today rather than fretting about tomorrow.”
I ponder his words, allowing silence to fall between us. “That’s pretty smart.”
“Why, thank you.”
“It’ll probably go to shit.”
“Perhaps.”
“In fact, it could explode in my face if Tee actually doesn’t have faith in me like she said originally.”
To cement that, Brogan yips.
Jeez.
“You’re the one dating the woman,” Mike grumbles. “What’s your read on the situation? On her?”
I think about everything Calamity Jane told Butch in her letters and everything we’ve shared together as Tee and Cody, and I slowly verbalize, “That she wants ‘normal’ more than she wants to admit. That she craves the kind of love and acceptance her parents have together. She wants a family. She wants the whole nine yards but only so long as she’s allowed to work on her music and has the freedom to expand her craft.”
“You said you wish it was your wedding tomorrow, so I’m assuming you’re willing to give her the space to do that?”
For the first time since this call began, a genuine smile curves my lips. “Damn straight.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“There isn’t one.”
Mike snorts. “Go get ‘er, soldier.”