42. Bethany End of the Hockey Season
Chapter forty-two
Bethany: End of the Hockey Season
Reggie still believes he weighs nine pounds, which is worrisome for me.
He launches himself at me the moment Jenna opens the door, hits my legs with all four paws, and nearly sends me backward into Timothy.
Timothy catches me around the waist.
“You have gotten enormous,” I tell him.
Reggie wriggles harder.
Timothy reaches down to scratch behind Reggie’s ears. The puppy abandons me immediately and plants both front paws against Timothy’s chest.
“Traitor,” I say.
Reggie licks Timothy’s chin. Timothy laughs and catches him before he can climb higher.
The sound still does something warm and ridiculous to my chest.
A few months ago, I was not certain I would ever hear it directed at something we both loved again.
Now the hockey season is over, Timothy has survived his final team meeting, and we are standing in Jenna’s entryway while Reggie attempts to remove his ear.
Life has become wonderfully ordinary.
“Shoes off,” Jenna says. “Reggie brought half the yard in this morning, and I refuse to mop the floor twice in one day.”
Reggie drops to the floor and races down the hall. A crash follows. Jenna hurries after him.
Timothy looks at me.
“Should we help?”
“No. We might get in her way."
A cushion flies into the hallway. Jenna says something that should probably not be repeated in front of children. Timothy grins.
“She’s doing well.”
“She’s thriving.”
We take off our shoes and follow.
Jenna’s living room has Reggie's large dog bed occupying the corner beside the couch. Three chew toys are spread across the rug, along with one slipper and the remains of a cardboard box.
Reggie stands in the middle of it all, tail moving fast. Jenna holds one couch cushion against her hip.
“He has entered a destructive phase.”
“He has been in a destructive phase since birth,” Timothy says.
“It has become more expensive.”
Reggie trots over and sits on my foot.
His head reaches almost to my knee now. His legs are too long for the rest of him, and one ear still refuses to stand as straight as the other.
He looks healthy and happy and completely at home.
I crouch beside him. “Are you behaving for Jenna?”
He sneezes in my face. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“He knows stay," Jenna says.
Jenna holds up one finger. “Stay.”
Reggie remains still for almost two seconds before launching himself toward Timothy again.
Jenna points after him. “Progress.”
Timothy catches Reggie by the shoulders. “I think he did great.”
“Thank you,” Jenna says. “Someone recognizes my skills.”
Reggie sniffs Timothy’s pockets.
Timothy looks down.
“You brought treats?” I ask.
He pulls a small bag from his jacket.
“I came prepared.”
Reggie stares at him. Timothy stares back. The puppy sits.
Jenna folds her arms.
“I have been trying to teach him that for three weeks.”
Reggie lifts one paw and places it on Timothy’s knee.
Timothy looks at me. “He is very persuasive.”
He gives Reggie another treat.
Jenna groans.
“The guys keep asking to visit him.”
“They miss him,” Timothy says. “They have a group chat about him.”
I straighten.
“The Hockey House guys have a group chat for Reggie?”
“It is called Reginald’s Court.” Timothy looks offended. “I was not invited.”
“You do not live there anymore.”
“That is not the point.”
Jenna picks up her phone from the coffee table.
Timothy scratches Reggie’s chest. “He misses the lodge.”
“Everyone misses the lodge,” Jenna says.
Timothy has spent the last week looking at apartments.
He has not chosen one yet.
My phone buzzes inside my purse. I pull it out. A message waits from one of my oldest clients.
Emergency. Water under the kitchen sink. Need someone here tonight.
It is Sunday afternoon. I hired three employees so none of us would have to build a life around being constantly available.
I open the message and type:
Please send me a picture of the leak and the cabinet underneath the sink.
The reply arrives almost immediately.
Two pictures.
A thin line of water runs from the pipe connection into a plastic container beneath it. The cabinet is damp, but there is no standing water.
A real problem, but not one that requires ruining someone else’s evening.
“What happened?” Timothy asks.
“Kitchen-sink leak.”
“Do you need to go?"
I zoom in on the picture. “No.”
Jenna looks over my shoulder as I type:
Please turn off the valve beneath the sink and place a towel under the pipe. I can send someone tomorrow between nine and eleven at our regular rate.
I add the emergency callout fee in case she still wants someone to come immediately.
I press send.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Appear again.
Tomorrow morning is fine.
I smile.
Timothy leans closer. “That was fast.”
“It is amazing how quickly an emergency becomes tomorrow’s problem when it has an after-hours fee.”
Jenna laughs.
I put the pipe on the schedule for tomorrow.
My business is thriving.
We have enough work to keep all four of us busy. Grant’s contract led to referrals, and last month I even turned down a client whose expectations were unreasonable.
I slept surprisingly well afterward.
Reggie drops a rope toy into my lap and nearly pulls me off the couch. Timothy catches me around the waist.
“Whoa there,” Timothy takes the rope. “Let me.”
“Show-off.”
“I prefer to think that I have transferable skills.”
“That reminds me.”
He glances at me.
“What?”
“The season is over.”
His eyes narrow.
“Yes.”
“I could put you to work.”
Jenna lowers herself into the armchair.
“Oh, this should be good.”
Timothy releases the rope. Reggie runs away with it triumphantly. “What position?”
“Entry-level labor.”
“I’m a professional athlete.”
“Currently, you are an off-season professional athlete.”
“I still have training.”
“I could hire you as part-time entry-level labor.”
“What are the benefits?”
“Excellent supervision.”
“Do I report directly to you?”
“No. Caleb would supervise you.”
Jenna laughs into her hand.
“I have other skills.”
“Such as?”
“I can lift heavy things. I follow directions.”
“Occasionally.”
He leans closer. “I have experience being supervised by you.”
“That did improve.”
His expression softens.
We did improve. Because we kept showing up for each other.
Jenna clears her throat.
“I’m still here.”
“We know,” Timothy says.
“How is your apartment search going?” Jenna asks.
"There are two that I'm looking at. One is close to the arena."
"Oh I remember that one. It was nice, and new but a little sterile," I say.
"And the second is an older townhouse with two bedrooms, a small patio, dated carpet, and a kitchen that needs work."
"And you're considering that one because…"
"It is also ten minutes from your house." He looks at me.
His gaze holds mine. “I spend enough time at the arena.”
My heart gives one hard beat.
“The second option is closer to the rest of my life.”
Jenna makes a small sound.
Timothy points at her without looking away from me. “Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
My mind immediately starts planning paint colors and furniture.
I stop.
This is Timothy’s apartment, not my next project.
He reaches for my hand. “We can look at it together tomorrow, if you’re free.”
I glance toward my phone. Tomorrow morning holds a sink repair. The afternoon estimate can end by four.
“I can meet you at five.”
“Five works.”
Jenna lifts one hand.
“I would also like to attend.”
“No,” Timothy and I say together.
She looks offended, which lasts about three seconds before Reggie races through the room with a cushion in his mouth.
Jenna stands. “Put that down.”
She follows him into the hallway.
Timothy shifts closer to me. “You really think the townhouse is a good idea?”
“I think it could be. I'll have to check the sinks for leaks and run you an estimate if it's bad."
He laughs.
I lean into his shoulder.
Through the window, the last winter snow has almost disappeared from Jenna’s yard. Muddy grass shows along the fence. Tiny green shoots push through the flower bed near the porch.
The season is over. The rink will melt soon.
None of it feels like losing. Some things end to make more room.
Room for a growing business, a new apartment, and an off-season full of dinners, property tours, and Timothy pretending he can repair garbage disposals.
Reggie barrels back into the room. Jenna follows, carrying the stolen cushion.
The puppy leaps onto the couch and collapses across both our legs. He is heavier now.
Jenna watches us.
“I would like it noted that none of this would have happened without me.”
“You adopted a dog,” Timothy says.
“Oh come on! I've been rooting for you two for over eleven years. I also arranged girls’ day and introduced Bethany to your jersey.”
Reggie lifts his head, decides nothing important is happening, and drops it again.
“You may have five percent,” Timothy tells Jenna.
“Ten.”
“Fine.”
Jenna points at me.
“This is why you are my favorite.”
“I am your only sister-in-law candidate.”
Silence follows.
Timothy turns slowly toward me. “I said candidate.”
His smile grows.
“We are not discussing that today.”
“Why not,” Jenna says, smiling far too widely.
“Especially you.”
Timothy lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “We have time.”
The teasing leaves his voice.
We do have time.
Time for apartments, another season, a growing business, and a puppy who still thinks he fits in every lap.
Nothing has to happen all at once.
Jenna stands and gathers the empty glasses from the table.
“You’re staying for dinner.”
It is not a question.
Timothy looks at me.
“Yes,” I say.
Jenna nods as though this was the only acceptable answer.
“I’m ordering pizza.” She leaves for the kitchen.
Timothy shifts Reggie carefully and stands, then holds out his hand to me.
There will always be work waiting. Leaking sinks, full schedules, and another season after summer.
But I am no longer building my life around every emergency.
I am building it around the people I choose.
Around a business I am proud of. A family that keeps growing. A man who chooses me just as surely as I choose him.
Timothy threads his fingers through mine.
“Ready?” he asks.
I look toward the kitchen, where Jenna is already arguing with the pizza place.
Then I look at Timothy.
At the life waiting for us after tonight. His new home. My growing business. Another hockey season. A thousand ordinary days we have not lived yet.
“Yes,” I say.
Timothy squeezes my hand, and we walk into the kitchen together.
The end.
When PR expert Josie is assigned to tame the Dragons’ grumpy captain, sparks fly on and off the ice. Fake dating turns into late-night confessions, stolen kisses, and a found family you’ll want to cheer for.
Read Chapter One on the very next page.