2. Chapter Two #3
I used to not think about this. Now I can't stop.
Kevin St. Clair is my friend. Actually, over the last year and a half, he’s become my best friend. The guy who shows up at two a.m. for dog emergencies. Who brings coffee without being asked. Who knows when I need silence.
He's also a professional hockey player who makes more in one game than I'll make this year. Lives in a downtown high-rise. Has his pick of whatever he wants. And I know that includes women, if he so chooses.
And then there’s me. I'm the girl who lives above the sports bar and spends my days cleaning kennels.
We do make sense as a dog rescue director and her board member. We barely make sense as close friends. We don't make sense as anything else.
Brett and Paige make sense. College sweethearts. Built a life over close to a decade. That's real partnership, how it’s supposed to be. Sensible.
"You okay?" Kevin asks quietly.
"Yeah. Tired."
"Long day?"
"Surrenders. More dogs than money. You know how it goes. More running out of time tomorrow." True, but not the whole truth.
He studies me. Kevin's gotten too good at reading me. But he doesn't push. Just offers another fry.
The evening winds down. Josh leaves first. It’s his daughter's bedtime. Graham follows. Tyler takes a few more photos for his Instagram feed. Brett and Paige stand up next.
"Call me tomorrow," Paige says, hugging me. "We need to talk."
Eventually it's me, Kevin, Liam, and Aiden.
"Road trip," Liam says, stretching. "Four games. Seven days. I'm going to die."
"You say that every trip," Aiden points out.
"Surviving isn't thriving." Liam slides out. "Sunshine, you good to close out?"
"Yeah."
"Of course you are." Liam gives me a wink and a little wave. "Take care of our mascot, Sarah. Take care of yourself too."
Aiden follows. "See you tomorrow, Kev. Sarah, always good to see you."
Surprisingly sweet for team captain and certified troublemaker. Now I’m glad I didn’t launch a wing at him earlier.
Then it's just us in this corner of the room that suddenly feels small.
"I should go," I say, not moving. "You’ve got an early flight tomorrow."
"Six a.m. Inhumane."
"You love it."
"I love hockey. Forty-plus games of travel, not so much." Kevin settles the tab with Danny. The restaurant's far quieter now — past nine, and the higher-profile games on the TVs around Overtime are now over.
"You need me to walk you up?" Kevin asks as I head for the employee door toward the back.
"I live upstairs. Twenty steps."
"Humor me."
So I do. We climb the narrow stairs, footsteps echoing. At my door, I fumble with my keys because apparently door locks are hard.
"Sarah," Kevin says. It’s my name. I’ve heard it my whole life. But something in his voice makes me look up.
He's close. Closer than friends stand. His hand starts to reach for my face, then drops.
"Have a safe flight," I manage to ignore how the space between us has shrunk. "Text when you land."
"Always do."
"Tell Ranger I'll see him tomorrow."
"Sarah—" He stops. Starts again. "If you need anything while I'm gone. Anything. Call me. Don't care what time or what game."
"Kevin, I'll be fine."
"I know. But call anyway."
There's more he wants to say. I don’t know if I want to hear them.
Because again, I’m the girl who lives above a sports bar and smells like dog — literally.
And he’s Kevin St. Clair. People buy his jersey in the team store.
He does interviews with top sports media.
Women post photos of him on the ice in little videos all over social media.
We don’t make sense outside of Lone Star Paws and Ranger and dogs. And the best way I can be his friend is to make sure some words don’t get said and some lines don’t get crossed. "Goodnight, Kevin."
"Goodnight, Sarah."
He waits until I'm inside before heading down. I close the door and lean against it, heart pounding too hard for someone who just had dinner with friends.
Just friends.
That's all we are.
Even if Brett and Paige just showed me what I know isn’t in the cards for me.
I get ready for bed. Check the rescue email to see if anyone pledged funds to get at least one more dog out of Travis County. Try not to think about Kevin's hand on my shoulder, my back, my knee. The usual.
My phone buzzes.
??Sunshine
Thank you for coming tonight. You make Wing Wednesday better.
That's the beer talking.
??Sunshine
Two beers. Quit an hour ago. Alarm’s gonna come early.
Exhaustion talking.
??Sunshine
Not tired. Just the truth.
Three dots. Disappear. Appear.
??Sunshine
Sleep well, Sarah.
I stare at my phone.
You too. Ranger and I will hold down the fort. Go take care of the Canadians.
??Sunshine
That's the plan.
I set my phone down, but then the dang thing buzzes again. I shouldn’t even look. Because if I start texting with Kevin, he’s going to be dragging for tomorrow’s plane ride to Canada.
I stare blankly at my laptop screen.
Think about dogs.
The phone buzzes again. I shoot it a side eye. Not today, phone Satan.
It buzzes again. Okay, fine.
I flip the phone over and look at it tentatively. Surprisingly, it’s not Kevin.
Paige
Sorry about the Mark thing. Pregnant brain.
But we need to talk about the way Kevin looked at you tonight.
Like you hung the moon and invented hockey.
Sarah
SARAH
Fine, you're in bed. But we're absolutely talking tomorrow.
I don't respond. What would I say? That she's right? That I noticed? That watching her and Brett made me realize what I'm afraid to want?
I plug in my phone. Turn off the light. Try to sleep.
But all I can think about is Kevin's hand on my back. The way he looked at me when he said I mattered. My heart racing when he stood close at my door.
The way Brett looked at Paige when she told all their friends and co-workers that she was pregnant.
Like she was his whole world.
But I live in a different world. I’m on a different path.
This is fine.
Everything's fine.