Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
MATT
I bent to look Wasabi in the eyes through the top of his fancy new carrier. “Do not maim either of my parents.”
The cat stared back at me, unimpressed.
“How about this? If you don’t bite or make either of them bleed, I’ll give you five treats when we get home.”
Wasabi meowed.
I sighed. “Fine, six. You drive a hard bargain.”
Wasabi licked his lips, obviously pleased with himself.
The door in front of us swung inward and my mother crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “Is there a reason you’re hovering on our front porch like a traveling salesman?” She spotted Wasabi and gasped. “Who is this…interesting-looking fellow?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I feel like you were going to say something else just then.”
She shook her head. “He’s so…cute?”
“He’s adorable,” I told her. “Are the windows and doors all shut?”
She looked at me archly. “It’s raining, so yes, I’m fairly sure they’re shut.”
I lifted the carrier with Wasabi inside and he squawked in protest. “Let’s double-check before I let him out.”
Mom stepped back to let me in, and I set the cat carrier inside the doorway.
The two of us did a circuit around the inside of the house to make sure there was no way for Wasabi to escape and then, that done, I carried the cat into the living room, where Dad was lounging on the sofa, a paperback book on his lap and glasses sitting low on his nose.
He slipped a bookmark between the pages to keep his place. “What’s this?”
“Your first grand-cat,” I declared, gesturing for dramatic effect. “Since I haven’t given you any grandchildren yet, this is a good-faith gesture.”
Mom snorted. “I hope your actual children have better genes.”
“What are you saying about my fur baby?”
“Er, nothing.”
I smirked to myself. I knew Wasabi was ugly, but he was one of those creatures that was so ugly he was cute.
I kneeled beside the carrier and opened the front so he could wander out.
He stretched, then strolled over to Dad, who bent and offered him a hand to sniff.
Wasabi swatted his hand, turned his fluffy tail, and stalked away.
“That was rude,” Dad said, promptly getting up and following the cat. He loved animals, so I wasn’t surprised. He wouldn’t accept Wasabi’s dismissal. He’d feel the need to try to make the cat like him.
Wasabi jumped up onto the coffee table, swishing his tail. Dad kneeled in front of him, giving the cat time to adjust to his presence. Wasabi turned around, presenting Dad with his back.
Dad gave him scritches and Wasabi’s head rotated as quickly as that girl’s on The Exorcist. He bit Dad’s hand, and when Dad cried out and tried to break free, he used his feet to bunny kick, scratching up Dad’s wrist and forearm.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I raced over and scooped Wasabi up, cradling him like a baby. “Are you okay?”
Dad looked blankly down at the angry red lines on his arm. “Why doesn’t he like me?”
“Because he’s a grump. I should have warned you: He’s very choosy about who touches him.”
Honestly, it was surprising he’d even been at the event yesterday, considering the shelter staff had assured us they’d brought their most socialized animals.
My best guess was that Wasabi had become so used to the people there that he no longer reacted to them violently, and so they considered him “socialized,” when in reality they’d just made it inside his small circle of acceptable people.
“Animals always like me.” Dad flopped onto the sofa, frowning. “I don’t think I approve of this grand-cat. Can you trade him in for a different one?”
I laughed. “I’m not sending him back to the shelter. He already loves his new home.”
Okay, so “loves” might be a strong word, but he’d deigned to sleep at the foot of my bed, so I assumed he wasn’t unhappy with it.
Wasabi started purring and I rubbed his fluffy belly and chuckled at the way his purrs grew louder even though he looked just as grumpy as before. His poor face was stuck that way.
“What’s his name?” Mom asked, her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were repressing her laughter.
“His name is Wasabi.”
“It should be Satan’s spawn,” Dad muttered.
Mom grinned. “Wasabi. I like it.”
I put the cat down, first checking that Dad wouldn’t make any sudden moves toward him, and watched as Wasabi slunk toward Mum and wove between her legs. She didn’t try to pet him, and he flopped on top of one of her feet and rumbled happily.
“Huh.” Mom cocked her head. “I’ve never been much of a cat person, but he’s all right.”
“All right?” Dad sputtered. “He tried to deglove me.”
Mom shrugged. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding, my ass.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “So dramatic. Anyway, Matt, I was about to make lunch. Will you be joining us?”
I hesitated because I didn’t want to create extra work for her. “I can order in since I arrived unannounced.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t going to make anything fancy. Just a quiche.”
“Okay, that would be great, thank you.” There was no point in arguing with her. Ever since I’d bought them this house after signing with the NHL, she’d insisted on cooking for me every chance she got.
I’d told her over and over that she didn’t owe me anything. We’d been poor when I was young, but she and Dad had done all they could to help make my dream come true. Now that I was in a better position, I wanted to spoil them, if only they’d let me.
Mom gently displaced Wasabi and headed for the kitchen through the wide doorway that connected it to the living room.
I trailed behind, and so did Dad. Mom started pulling things from the fridge and cupboards, and while she was doing so, I got out a chopping board, determined to at least help if she wouldn’t let me order takeout.
By the time we were done, Dad had made coffee and three steaming mugs stood on the kitchen counter. We took them back to the living room where they sat on the sofa while I claimed an armchair. Wasabi immediately jumped onto my lap and tried to bury his face in my cup of coffee.
“How is training going?” Dad asked, staring at Wasabi as if he expected the cat to assault me at any moment.
“It’s good,” I replied. “It’s hard, like always, but my muscles and joints are all holding up, and I think we’re in better shape going into this season than we were last year.”
He nodded. “I saw your first game against Seattle. You played well. Is Coach Dunn working on cohesion between attack and defense?”
“That’s what we’ve been focusing on most heavily since that game,” I confirmed. “I think we’re improving.”
He sipped his coffee. “I’m glad the team is in a better place.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“Want to explain where the cat came from?” Mom asked. “I can’t see you going to the shelter.”
She was right. I might’ve thought about getting a dog on occasion, but I’d ruled it out. The possibility of living with a cat hadn’t occurred to me until the fundraiser yesterday. Something about Wasabi’s smooshed nose and the chip on his shoulder had called to me.
“The team was involved in a fundraiser for a local animal shelter,” I told her, rubbing beneath Wasabi’s chin. “I saw this guy, and it felt right.”
Mom’s jaw dropped. “You mean you had options and you chose… him?”
A laugh burst from me. “Yes, Mom. I chose him. I thought you liked him.”
Her lips twisted with mirth. “I do, but I can’t help wondering if this is a cry for help.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her, wondering how I’d come from someone who was such a smart-ass.
“So, was this fundraiser to help the team’s publicity?” Dad asked, drawing the attention away from my dubious choice of pet.
“Yes.” I hesitated, unsure how much I wanted to share with them, but decided to go for it. “Actually, it was Chelsey’s idea. She’s the team’s new publicist.”
“Chelsey?” His eyes widened. “Chelsey Fields?”
“Yeah. She’s doing an incredible job.”
“How is she?” Mom was suddenly a lot more invested in the conversation. “How does she look? Is she married?”
I grimaced at the parade of questions. “She’s doing well, as far as I can tell. She’s as beautiful as ever. I don’t think she’s married.” There wasn’t a ring on her finger, but if she was in a relationship, it would gut me. “She’s keeping me at a distance.”
Mom picked up the remote on the coffee table and turned the heat of the gas fire up. “You two always seemed so good together.”
“We were,” I agreed, inhaling slowly as I gathered my courage. “I want her back, but I don’t think she’s interested.”
In fact, she might throw a party if the team’s management decided to trade me. Not that I thought they would.
“You should try,” Dad urged. “Don’t give up, even if it means making a fool of yourself. Love is worth it.”
Mom smirked. “Listen to your father. He’d know.”
Dad didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by her remark as he added, “Your hockey career will end one day, but love is forever. If you love her enough, any risk is acceptable.”
That was saying something, coming from my more risk-averse parent. Although I shouldn’t be surprised. Their love story was the stuff of legend in our household.
Dad had been floundering in inherited debt when he’d met Mom, and he’d been scared to pursue her because he didn’t want to burden her with the challenges that came with loving him, but he’d taken a chance anyway, and they’d always been happy together, even when we were broke.
I wanted that kind of devotion, and I wanted it with Chelsey.
The oven timer beeped and Mom went to take the quiche out.
Dad angled himself toward me, glancing warily at the ball of purring fury on my lap. “You never fully explained what happened between you and Chelsey, but you said you hurt her somehow. She might be reluctant to trust you again, so you’ll have to prove you’re worthy of her trust.”
“I will,” I promised.
I’d screwed up once. I didn’t intend to do it again.
We ate together at the dining table, and afterward, I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the kitchen counter. Corralling the cat took a bit more effort. He tried to hide at the top of one of the curtains, but eventually, I got him down.
Back home, I let him out and then lay on the floor, scratching behind his ear when he climbed onto my chest and started purring. My phone buzzed where it sat on the carpet near my head, and I grabbed it and opened the message.
Cory: Hey, man. I’m in town for the night. Want to gather some of the old crew and some of your teammates and hit the clubs together?
I pulled a face. No, I didn’t want that. I couldn’t think of much worse. I hadn’t spoken to Cory in person since college, and I was more than happy to keep it that way. He’d insulted Chelsey, which meant he was no friend of mine.
Not anymore, at least.
Too bad he still liked to hit me up whenever he came to town, in an attempt to use our old friendship to get a taste of fame—even if it was from a distance.
Matt: No.
Cory: Come on, it’ll be fun.
Matt: Not interested.
Cory: Are you seriously still mad at me about that fat girl who used to follow you around in college?
My body tensed, and I pounded my fist against the floor. Wasabi bolted upright, his fur standing on end.
“Sorry, buddy,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
Seriously, how had I ever been friends with this tool? Had I been so starved for friendship after being lonely in high school that I’d reveled in whatever companions I could find?
It was pathetic.
My gut simmered, shame and embarrassment tangling within as I typed my reply.
Matt: She was my girlfriend, she was beautiful, and I loved her. Don’t message me again.
I clicked the three dots beside his contact name and did something I should have done a long time ago: I blocked him.
Then I pushed my phone away and closed my eyes. I jolted, startled, when a pair of paws landed on my stomach. Wasabi climbed onto my chest and settled there, tucking his paws beneath himself and purring like an engine in need of a visit to the mechanic.
“Why the hell did I ever care what assholes like him thought?” I asked the cat. “And how am I supposed to win Chelsey back after she’s had so long to learn to hate me?”