20. Chapter Twenty #3
"I don't know." My hands are shaking. I clasp them together.
"I mean, I hope not. I'm going to have Paige call in the morning.
But I know I just made your life harder when all I wanted was to—" I stop.
Breathe. "You needed tomorrow to be perfect.
You needed this to work. And I couldn't keep it together for one fucking game. "
The silence stretches.
Ranger whines, looking between us.
"They were hunting you all night," Sarah says finally. "I watched them. Every shift, going after your shoulder, your side. Same spots from the road trip."
"That's hockey."
"That's bullshit." There's fire in her voice now. "You played through that whole Canada trip hurt. I watched every game. I remember. Came home barely able to move. Then tonight they targeted you again, and when that guy cross-checked you — Kevin, I saw it. The ref didn't, but I did."
She saw me. Out there. She saw it all. I feel like I can breathe again, despite the shots to my ribs, the bruising once again pulling at my lungs with every inhale and exhale.
"Still shouldn't have dropped the gloves."
"Maybe you shouldn't have." She leans forward, unknowingly pulling me into her gravity, making the world stop spinning just a little bit. "But you did. And now we deal with it. Together."
"Together?" I give half of a bitter laugh. "Sarah, I just potentially torpedoed the one thing that could save your rescue. How is that together?"
"Because shit happens." She stands, moves closer, then sits on the coffee table right in front of me. Close enough that our knees almost touch. "You think I haven't made mistakes that cost the rescue? You think I haven't fucked up and had to fix it? This is what grown-ups do. We handle it."
"This isn't the same—"
"Stop." Her hand lands on my knee. The touch burns through my dress pants.
"Stop making this bigger than it is. Yes, you might be suspended.
Yes, the timing sucks. But we don't know what happens tomorrow.
We don't know if Super PawMart will care.
Hell, they might think it makes you more interesting. More real."
"That's a stretch."
"Maybe." She shrugs. "Or maybe not. But sitting here laying out every worst-case scenario isn't helping either of us. Trust me, I'm the queen of worst-case scenarios. I've now had a little more than a solid twenty-four hours to imagine every possible way this pregnancy ruins my life."
The words hit me in the chest harder than anything Fjellvik and Vostrikov could ever have dished out.
"Does it?" I ask quietly, my heart sinking in my chest. "Ruin your life?"
I sit on the floor, hoping she’ll think I’m just tired of standing, rather than realizing my legs gave out on me as my blood pressure dropped.
"I don't know yet." Her honesty cuts, but I appreciate it. "Ask me in a few months. Or a few years. But right now? Right now, I'm just trying to get through Friday without throwing up on Ranger's social media reels."
"That's probably not the real Super PawMart is looking for either."
She laughs and I’m gone for her all over again. This feels more normal. This is who we are. Friends who make the other find the humor in our lives. I'm grateful for a split second of how it used to be.
"We'll figure it out," she says. "The suspension.
The brand deal. The pregnancy. The rescue.
All of it. How many times have you told me that about something that's happened at the rescue?
And you're pretty much always right about it.
So, this time, let me be the one to say it. We'll figure it out. Together."
She says it like she means it. Like she actually believes it.
I want to pull her into my arms. Want to kiss her until neither of us can think. Want to promise her everything will be okay even though I have no idea if that's true.
Instead, I just cover her hand with mine.
"I'm sorry," I say. "For tonight. For the fight. For making things harder."
"I know." She holds my hand, linking and unlinking her fingers with mine in an unconscious rhythm.
"And I'm sorry you were in a position where you felt like you had to do that.
I know that you were worried about everything with the baby, on top of what they were doing to you.
I know you can't let your personal life get to you out there, or at least you're not supposed to. But you’re human.
That fight was really about the fact that you were frustrated.
That you've been holding it in. I have been too, so I know what it cost you. "
The understanding in her voice almost breaks me.
We sit like that for a minute. Just breathing. Just being.
Ranger has somehow wedged himself between us, his head now on Sarah's lap, tail thumping against my leg.
"I should let you sleep," I say finally. "It's late. You're exhausted."
"Yeah." But she doesn't move. "Kevin?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to sleep in the guest room tonight."
Everything stops. My breath. My heart. Time itself.
"What?"
"The guest room." She's looking at Ranger now, not me. "I don't want to sleep there. Not when you're twenty feet away and I'm—" She stops. Swallows hard. "I'm tired of pretending I'm fine alone. I'm not fine. And you're not fine. And I just... I don't want to be alone tonight."
My brain is trying to process. Trying to understand what she's asking.
"Sarah—"
"I'm not asking for—" She finally looks at me. Her cheeks are pink. "I'm not talking about sex. I'm just talking about not being alone. About maybe just being safe with another human being who understands that everything is a mess right now."
"Okay." The word comes out before I can overthink it. "Okay. My bed. Our bed. Whatever you need."
"Just sleep," she clarifies. "I need to be clear about that."
"Just sleep," I agree. Even though I want to kiss her and make her understand what I couldn't verbalize to Quinn tonight.
I just need Sarah to let me love her.
That's all I need.
That's all I've ever needed.
It's all I ever will need. And damn it, I hope one day she needs it from me too.
She nods. Stands. Her hand slips away from mine and I immediately miss the contact.
"I need to shower first," she says. "Long day. Long week. I probably smell like dog and anxiety."
"You smell fine."
"Liar." But she's almost smiling. "Give me twenty minutes?"