32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sarah
I'm at my desk Tuesday morning, catching up on paperwork, when Diane walks in with two coffees and Biscuit's file folder.
"Kevin's parents sent the virtual home visit photos," she says, setting down my decaf. "That dog is going to live his best retired life in Highland Park."
I open the folder and look at the pics Diane printed. Everything I’d ever hoped Biscuit would have, right here. "I almost want to frame these. Mike and Melanie are perfect for him."
"They really are." Diane sits across from me, opening the file. "Vet reference checked out. I did the video call interview yesterday and they passed with flying colors. I'll process the final paperwork today."
I sign off on Duke's packet that's been sitting on my desk.
Diane processed everything as soon as Karen and her husband passed their home visit, and Duke's already settled into his new life.
I just need to sign it and file it. Two successful adoptions of two dogs who have a piece of my heart. This is why I do this job.
"So," Diane says, and there's something in her tone that makes me look up as I finish organizing everything in Duke’s folder. "January first."
"Right. You officially take over as full-time manager."
"And you transition to Ranger's brand management full-time, with rescue board oversight." She's watching me carefully. "How are you feeling about it?"
I set down my pen. "I know you’ll be wonderful in the role. But how do I feel about all the changes? Still pretty nervous."
"Why?"
"Because this place is mine, Diane. I built it from nothing. And now I'm stepping back and—"
"You're not stepping back." Her voice is firm but gentle. "You're stepping into something bigger. There's a difference."
This whole conversation is starting to make my head swim. "Is there? Because it feels like I'm losing control. Losing something that’s been with me a long time, a part of my independence. Who I am as a person, you know?"
Diane leans forward. Looks me right in the eye. Smiles like she knows something I don't. "Sarah, sweetie. You and Kevin have been a team for eighteen months. Since the day he adopted Ranger. You just didn't call it that."
"That's different—"
"Is it?" She pulls out her phone, starts scrolling our Instagram and flashes the screen toward me every time there's a photo of Kevin in the feed.
"Let's see. He's been on our board since month two.
He paid for the new kennels last spring when we couldn't make the numbers work.
He shows up at every adoption event. He promoted Lone Star Paws to the entire Stampede organization.
He convinced that sweet girl Paige in PR to make us the calendar charity partner.
The man has been your teammate for a year and a half.
You're not losing independence by making it official.
You're gaining a platform. And that's only professionally. You're gaining even more personally."
I want to argue. Want to say it's not the same.
But she's right.
"People are going to be curious about your life now," Diane continues.
"Just like they're curious about Ranger.
And yeah, that's invasive and uncomfortable sometimes.
But it's also opportunity. You've already placed twenty-three dogs since the brand deal was announced.
Twenty-three families that wouldn't have found us otherwise.
And take it from me, having a partner in life who cares about the same things you do…
Sarah, that's a blessing from God. Trust me on this. You don't want it any other way."
"What if he gets traded?" The question comes out more whiny than I mean it to.
"Then you already have a great manager here keeping things running." Diane gestures around the office with a big flourish. "And you go open Sin City Paws in Las Vegas and find homes for dogs there. Or Vancouver Paws. Or wherever. All of a sudden, you have twice the impact you did a year ago."
I stare at her. "You've thought about this."
"Of course I have. I've watched you two dance around each other since that first spring Zilker Park festival. I knew this was coming." She smiles. "Sarah, you built something here that can grow beyond just you. That's not losing independence. That's legacy."
My hand moves to my stomach automatically. Legacy. I'm building a legacy. For this baby. For all the dogs that need homes.
Maybe even something for Kevin too, a philanthropy that can be a unique contribution to the good of the Austin community that’s given him so much.
"Okay," I say finally. "January first."
"January first." Diane stands, squeezes my shoulder. "Now go do whatever you need to do today. I've got the afternoon kennels covered."
"You sure?"
"I'm the great manager we just discussed, remember?" Her laughter drives her point home without making me feel a shred of guilt. She's right. I know it. She knows I know it. "I've got this, Sarah. And I’ll bring Ranger when I come with the rest of the gear."
There's no traffic on the way to TexTech Arena for some reason this afternoon. So, I have some time to kill, and before I know it, I'm standing in the Stampede team store, running my fingers over the jerseys on the rack.
Home jerseys. Navy and burnt orange. Different names, different numbers.
MCCRAE. CALLAHAN. BERTRAND.
And there — ST. CLAIR #6.
I've been to dozens of games. Worn Stampede gear. Sat in the family section with Ranger doing brand ambassador things.
But I've never worn Kevin's jersey outside of his condo.
Never put his name on my back where everyone could see it.
ST. CLAIR.
That's going to be the baby's last name. St. Clair. Like Kevin. Like Melanie and Mike. Even Ranger and Biscuit.
But not like me.
We haven't talked about that. Haven't had time to talk about anything beyond making it through each day without me throwing up on the quartz tiles in the giant condo bathroom I now share with Kevin.
But standing here with his jersey in my hands, I realize I don't want to be the only one in our little family without that name.
Which is ridiculous. We haven't even been together officially long enough to have conversations like that. I'm getting way ahead of myself.
But still.
If Cinderella could show up to the ball in a glass slipper, I can wear Kevin St. Clair's name across my shoulders for one night.
Pretend I'm not just the baby mama and the girlfriend. Pretend I get to be a St. Clair too.
My phone buzzes.
?? Sunshine
Just got here. You've got Ranger, right?
Diane’s bringing him. He's been at LSP all day bossing the new terrier around
?? Sunshine
Can't wait to see you. I'll be the guy back by the blue line around 7.
That's helpful. Wouldn't want to confuse you with all the other guys in helmets.
Hope you're ready to put on a show.
Three dots appear on the screen.
Disappear.
Reappear.
?? Sunshine
Always ready to perform for you, baby. You know that.
I look at the jersey in my hands. At the name that's become as familiar to me as my own.
Fuck it.
I grab it off the rack, head to the register.
The woman at checkout scans it, then looks up at me with a smile. "St. Clair's a good one."
"Yeah. He is."
He’s the best.
"That'll be one hundred and eighty-nine dollars and thirty-seven cents."
Eeesh.
I’ll just move money from my savings account over to checking if I need a grocery store run before payday. Worth it.
I hand her my debit card, then pick up my phone as she finishes the transaction.
Gonna have to prove it, Sunshine.
?? Sunshine
Oh that's not going to be a problem
On the ice or off?
Both. All night long.
?? Sunshine
You're in trouble tonight, baby. The best kind.
Better buckle up.
Don't tempt me with a good time, St. Clair. Go get ready. I'll see you tonight. 118. I'll be the girl with the dog.
The cashier hands me the bag, and as I walk out of the store, I text Paige.
Can I change in your office before the game?
Paige
Of course! Everything okay?
Yeah. Just want to surprise Kevin.
Paige
?? Say no more. I'll leave it unlocked.
Paige's office is tucked away in the admin hallway, quiet and private. I lock the door, pull the jersey out of the bag.
It's bigger than I expected. Heavier. Official weight to it.
I strip off my LSP polo, pull the jersey over my head.
It falls past my hips. Even in the smallest size they had, the sleeves are too long. I definitely don't look hot or sexy or anything like that.
Even better, though.
I look like I'm his. I look like I belong.
Because I do.
I turn my head and look over my shoulder, checking the mirror on the back of the door.
ST. CLAIR across my shoulders in block letters. The number 6 on my back.
My heart's pounding like I just ran a mile.
This is a statement. Everyone will see it. The team. The fans. The guys.
Kevin.
Especially Kevin.
You're in trouble tonight, baby. The best kind. Better buckle up. I think about those texts again and smile. I'm going to turn every one of his words back on him.
And I'm going to love every minute of it.
Diane's already at our seats in section 118 with Ranger when I arrive. She takes one look at me and grins.
"Well, well, well."
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything, Boss." She's setting up Ranger's mat, arranging his water bowl. "Kevin seen it yet?"
"No. I haven't seen him since this morning. I just bought the jersey when I got to the arena."
"Oh, this is going to be good."
TexTech's filling up. New York fans are scattered throughout, but it's mostly burnt orange and navy. The energy's building toward puck drop.
I settle into my seat, Ranger at my feet. He's wearing his custom jersey — the one Melanie made him. We match now. Both wearing fabric that says St. Clair. Me in number 6 and Ranger with his custom number K9.
The thought makes me smile.
Warmups start. The team flies out, knocking pucks off the rail in front of the bench, skating lazy circles, stretching, taking shots.
I spot Kevin immediately. He's doing edge work near the blue line, talking to Graham about something.
Then he glances toward our section.
Sees me.