Chapter 11 #3
“Shit,” he muttered, when he saw Victor leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
“Vic. Can this wait?” he asked, fully aware it was wasted breath.
Victor’s arms were crossed and his expression couldn’t be described as anything other than pure determination. No doubt Victor was here to address Dean’s wayward glances during the game.
He should be pleased Victor was here at all. His friend hadn’t spoken a single word to him since Dean had broken things off with Vivian.
Victor didn’t acknowledge his request. “You love her.”
Dean stared at him, unable to respond. He didn’t want to say those words to Victor until he made things right with Vivian—please, God, let him be able to make things right—and said them to her.
The silence lingered between them a beat too long.
“Really?” Victor snapped. “Silent treatment? Thought that was my role in all this bullshit.”
Dean unlocked the door to his office, crossing the room to grab his coat.
Typically, he put in a couple more hours, analyzing game tape and charting a course for the next practice, but his emotional and mental bandwidth was nonexistent at the moment.
Dean wondered what the chances were that he could skirt by Victor and get out of here within the next sixty seconds, because he had nothing left to give.
When Victor planted himself in the doorway, legs spread, arms crossed again, doing his best Patrick Swayze Road House pose, Dean realized he was trapped until he picked his way through this conversation.
While there were a million things he should probably start with, Dean couldn’t stop himself from asking the one thing that had cost him the most sleep lately. “Is she doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Pip feeling better? She’s not still sick, is she?” Dean figured Pip’s presence at the game probably answered that, but he’d been worried about the sweet little girl.
Victor rolled his eyes. “Fucking hell.”
Dean frowned. “What?”
“You love both of them, you dumbass.”
Dean opened his mouth to say…what?
Fortunately, Victor saved him from trying to figure it out. “Don’t,” his friend barked. “Don’t deny it.”
Dean sighed, running his fingers through his hair wearily.
“Thanksgiving. Tomorrow. My house. Be there,” Victor demanded.
Dean shook his head. “I can’t. McKenna and Tank—” he started, even though he’d made no plans with them. To be honest, his head had been so far up his own ass the past few days, he’d forgotten all about the holiday.
“They’re coming to my house. Already RSVPed yes. Gonna try to give me another bullshit excuse, or can we save time and you just go ahead and cry uncle?”
“Uncle,” Dean sighed, too tired to put up a fight.
Victor looked strangely pleased. “Good. Be there at noon. Bring beer. A lot of it. You owe me.”
It took a second for Dean’s brain to engage enough for Victor’s joke to land. When it did, he chuckled and lobbed one of his own. “You know, I had at least six more perfectly reasonable excuses not to come tomorrow.”
“No, you didn’t,” Victor countered, calling him on his lie.
“Think I’ve got a shot at fixing this?”
Victor considered the question long enough that Dean appreciated him taking it so seriously. In the end, he lifted one shoulder. “To be honest, I’m not sure where her head is. Viv’s been pretty quiet the past few days.”
Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that, suddenly surprised and touched by Victor’s invitation to Thanksgiving. It felt as if he’d just gotten Victor’s blessing.
“Got any advice for me?” he asked, grateful to have his friend speaking to him again.
“Fuck no,” Victor barked. “I’m a dumbass too. Still can’t believe Belle fell for me.”
Dean laughed, then tilted his head toward the bookshelf where he had a bottle of bourbon and a few glasses stashed for special occasions.
Victor considered his unspoken invitation to join him for a drink before shaking his head.
“Promised Belle I’d get home quick after the game.
It’s the first time we’re hosting Thanksgiving as a couple and she’s freaking out a little, determined to make it perfect, like we’re fucking Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg. ”
Dean was amused by the comparison—and the fact Victor seemed to think Snoop Dogg held some gold standard on Thanksgiving. “Thanks for the invitation, Vic.”
“Don’t fucking blow it. Despite recent events, I think you might be good for my sister. But if you tell her I said that, I’ll fucking deny it,” Victor said, giving him a grin. “See you at noon, dumbass.”
Victor gave him a quick wave over his shoulder, leaving Dean in the peace and quiet he’d been seeking earlier. It no longer felt necessary. For the first time in nearly a week, his thoughts were silent.
Victor had invited him to Thanksgiving. His friend was giving him the opportunity to make this right, and Dean was going to take it.
Not just for Vivian but for Pip and McKenna and Tank and Victor and Belle and Ellie.
Family.
His family.
Maybe this was what a second chance looked like. Not some grand, life-changing moment. Maybe it was simply showing up.
Tomorrow, Dean intended to do exactly that.