2. Chapter Two #2
"Have you seen the shots from this morning?" Paige asks, clearly trying to change the subject from whatever private eyebrow conversation they were having. "They're incredible."
"They're perfect," I say, grateful for literally any topic that isn't Kevin's arm or thigh contact or the way he's looking at me. "You guys were amazing."
Paige's expression shifts to something mischievous. "Oh! Is Mark still coming tonight? I told Brett you mentioned he might stop by—"
My stomach drops. "What?"
Kevin's hand, which had been casually resting near my knee, disappears.
Shit.
"Mark from your board?" Paige continues, oblivious to the crater she just created. "You said he wanted to see the photos?"
No no no no no. We are not discussing Mark. Not here. Not with Kevin's thigh no longer pressed against mine and his hand inching away and…
"He's a board member," I say quickly. Kevin just downed half his Dos Equis in one gulp. Not a great sign. "He was nearby after work. But I texted him earlier. Lindy's just emailing the photos. He's not coming."
"Oh." Paige blinks. "When I told Brett, he said... Oh. Never mind."
My face is on fire. I need Kevin's hand back. I need to rewind this entire conversation. I need Tyler's wing challenge to spontaneously combust and create a distraction.
"Made it sound like what?" The words come out before I can stop them.
"Nothing! I just thought… Forget I said anything." Paige is terrible at covering, but she's trying.
"Mark's not coming," I say quietly, hoping Kevin can hear me over the noise.
"You don't have to explain." His voice is carefully neutral.
I consider picking up my phone to google for signs of a heart attack in women. Because my chest physically hurts.
Is there a rock in there? Lava? The fifth wing from Tyler’s basket of doom?
Because I think I’m going to die.
"He's forty-eight and getting remarried as soon as his divorce is final. To a man."
Kevin's lips twitch. "That's...specific information."
"In case Brett said something."
"Brett might have mentioned something." He takes another sip, slower this time, straight from the bottle. "I might have been moderately concerned for approximately eight hours."
"Moderately concerned?"
"Didn't see why the fuck Mark needed to be here." He finally looks at me. His eyes aren't giving much away — relief? Amusement? "Mark who asks seventeen questions about the gray plastic kennels I pay for — not him — and brings those terrible oatmeal raisin cookies Barb throws away."
I laugh. Can't help it. The lava in my chest begins to flow away from my heart. "Those cookies are a crime."
"They really are." Kevin's hand finds mine under the table. Squeezes once.
I breathe.
Better.
I finish off my vodka tonic and the last few sips are making me bold. Or stupid. Possibly both.
"Why would you care if he came?"
The question hangs there.
"Because those cookies are a menace," Kevin says finally. "We’ve got a game tomorrow. Can’t have everyone scratched with food poisoning."
"Right. The cookies."
Blame the cookies. I can work with that.
"Ranger was the real star today," Graham's voice carries over the noise, and just like that, Wing Wednesday returns to its natural state: unserious chaos.
"He gets it from his dad," Liam adds.
Kevin shifts closer. Just a little turn, a nudge to the side of the chair. No one else probably notices, but I feel it in my toes. "Sarah did all the real work."
"We made it happen," I correct, then immediately regret it because now everyone's looking at us with knowing smirks.
"Right," Aiden drawls. "You two make a good team."
"The best team," Tyler adds, then immediately regrets everything as wing three hits his tongue. "Oh fucking no. Ohhh fucking noooo. Thif waf a miftake."
The table erupts. I notice Paige and Brett doing their telepathy thing again: raised eyebrows, hidden smiles, the whole married-people routine.
"Okay, what's going on?" Liam asks. "You two are being weird."
"We're not being weird," Paige says, but she's the worst liar in Texas.
"Super weird," Aiden confirms.
Brett reaches for Paige's hand. The way he's looking at her… The way she's trying not to cry…
Oh. They’ve just telegraphed it to all of us without saying a word.
"We're having a baby," Paige blurts out.
The table explodes. Everyone's talking at once. Lindy's squealing. Aiden's shaking Brett's hand. Graham's asking about due dates. Josh is actually smiling.
Kevin slides out of his chair and pulls Brett into a hug that's half celebration, half restraint because they're both too emotional to simply bro hug.
"Congratulations, man. This is incredible," Kevin says. "You're going to be an amazing dad."
"Gonna have him in skates before his first birthday," Brett says.
As I watch Kevin celebrate with his best friend, it hits me. This is what partnership looks like. Brett and Paige chose this. Built a life together. Made plans.
It's beautiful.
It's also everything I've told myself isn't in the cards for me. Dogs need me. That's the deal. That's the life I chose.
Kevin would be an amazing dad. I've seen him with Ranger. Gentle and patient and completely devoted. If he's that good with a Lab, he'd be incredible with kids.
And that's great. For someone. Someday.
Not me. Different paths.
My own childhood was a front-row seat to how partnerships and commitment and milestones like this never worked. It’s nice to see it doesn’t always have to be that way.
"Sarah!" Paige pulls me into a hug.
"Congratulations," I say, meaning every bit of my own excitement in those syllables. "You guys are going to be incredible."
"I'm terrified," she admits. "But excited. I'm going to be huge and pregnant at the end of the season, which means Brett's already panicking about what’s going to happen during playoffs."
"I'm not panicking," Brett protests. "I'm strategically concerned."
"He's panicking," Kevin says, sliding back in next to me.
Tyler taps out halfway through wing four — exactly as predicted — but nobody's really watching anymore. There are toasts and congratulations and Tyler trying to recover his dignity and his taste buds.
The conversation moves on. Hockey talk and travel schedules. But I catch Aiden watching us with an expression that's either complicated or cocky. Maybe both.
"So," Aiden says, leaning back. "You two gonna tell us what's going on?"
My stomach drops. Kevin's hand tightens on mine.
"What’s going on?" I try for casual.
"Everyone thinks that y’all have been weird since Kevin got back from Montana in July."
"We're not weird," Kevin says.
Liam makes a hockey noise. "You're absolutely weird. We were right about Camper and Paige being weird. We’re right about you guys too. But if you want privacy, we'll respect that."
Aiden raises his beer. "To privacy and minding our business."
Liam and Aiden and Graham laugh. The moment passes. But Paige is watching me and there’s no doubt she ain’t buyin’ what I’m sellin’.
I wish I was better at subtle. This is why I work with dogs. Easier than dealing with shit-stirring hockey players.
With the wing challenge done, Jen comes back to get orders for the next round, and the guys decide to order real food instead of just relying on nuclear wings and other appetizers.
Aiden wants steak. Graham's doing tacos.
Liam orders chicken fried steak for carb-loading reasons that make no sense.
Brett and Paige debate Caesar dressing and pregnancy.
"Sarah, what do you want?" Kevin asks, leaning close.
"I can order for myself, Sunshine."
"I know. But Jen can't hear you over those douchebags." He nods toward Liam and Aiden and orders — a chicken sandwich with aioli not mayo, sweet potato fries extra crispy.
Of course he remembers the weird parts of my usual order I don’t remind him of. Kevin doesn't miss details. Makes him great at defense. Makes him dangerous everywhere else.
Brett glances at me across the table, then looks at Kevin with some best-friend communication I'm not privy to.
Conversation flows. Road trip talk. Tyler's wing recovery. Defensive zone coverage debates.
But I'm hyperaware of Kevin. The way he laughs. How he shifts when people need to move. The way he includes me without making it obvious. His hand finding reasons to touch my shoulder, my arm, briefly my hand.
I keep thinking about Brett and Paige. The way they looked at each other. The way Brett's hand found hers automatically.
The way Kevin looked at them — happy, but also holding back something.
Or am I imagining it?
"So, Sarah," Aiden says. "You're on Ranger duty for the road trip?"
"Always am."
"Must be tough. Staying at Sunshine's place while he's gone." Aiden's tone has an edge. I'm not sure where this is going.
There are leftover wings on Tyler's plate. I could create a distraction.
Wing warfare.
"Someone's got to make sure it doesn't fall apart while he's eating poutine in Canada."
"Right. That's the only reason." Aiden's grinning now. "Not because you two—"
"Sticks," Kevin says. No chirp in his voice. Just a note of authority that he probably doesn’t drop on the captain often. "Drop it."
"I'm just—"
"You’re just not saying anything," Liam interrupts, shooting Aiden a look. "Because he respects our rescue director."
"I'm not uncomfortable," I say quickly. My heart's racing. "Kevin and I are friends. He's on the board. I watch Ranger. It's business."
Whew, that one tastes like a bad wing. Like a lie.
Sure. It’s a business arrangement. Like Kevin pays me two hundred dollars a day because Ranger needs an in-house sitter instead of sending him to a fancy overnight dog daycare, not because Kevin knows I need the money and wouldn't take it otherwise.
"A business arrangement," Brett repeats. He doesn't believe me.
"Absolutely," Paige adds, smiling in a way that says she doesn't either.
Food arrives and saves me. My plate and Kevin's end up shared between us. He steals a sweet potato fry. I take a fried pickle. Comfortable. Easy. Friends.
Except I'm noticing everything. How close we're sitting. His knee bumping mine. Every time our hands brush.