Chapter 21
Daisy
Patrick’s first goal was exciting. The second was also fun. But after San Jose’s third goal, Daisy stopped celebrating. Watching your team crash and burn always sucked, but this was so much worse because she could claim at least partial responsibility. The arena went silent.
Connor and Patrick were going to fight. They had in every game since college. She expected it, the crowd expected it. The tension built before the puck dropped. After Patrick’s goal so early in, she could see the emotions getting out of control.
“Your boys look rough tonight,” Grayson gave his unsolicited opinion.
“They’re fine,” Daisy reassured him.
They weren’t fine.
“Is this your fault?” he asked after the third goal in ten minutes.
She smacked her brother’s arm. “No, it’s not my fault.”
The players met at center ice to reset. Patrick and Connor faced each other, each poised to win the puck. But the puck never dropped because Connor had dropped his gloves and snagged the collar of Patrick’s shirt, landing a punch to Patrick’s jaw before his gloves hit the ice.
Their helmets flew off and fists flew. One of Patrick’s teammates tried to pull them apart and Hazy dropped his gloves too, getting involved. Patrick and Connor’s fights usually lasted a few punches, but this one went on and on, Connor’s fist slamming into her best friend’s face over and over.
“Oh, fuck. This is kind of my fault.”
By the time the officials were able to separate them, blood dripped from both their faces. Both men skated to their benches and got cleaned up while the crew scraped the blood out of the ice.
San Jose got awarded a power play because of the fighting and they converted in the first minute.
Patrick met them in the family room, his nose clearly broken, his eyes blackening in real time. The on-site medical team had stuffed it with cotton. But he’d broken skin on Connor’s cheek from what she’d seen, so Daisy didn’t feel bad.
“Ready for Rowdy’s?” Patrick asked in an upbeat tone despite his face being swollen and bruised.
“I’m always ready for Rowdy’s. I’ve been daydreaming about French toast for a week,” Grayson confirmed.
Despite the name, Rowdy’s was a quiet, little, hidden gem a few blocks from Daisy’s apartment. They had a fifties theme, and the waitresses wore poodle skirts and roller skates.
Their food came out in big mountains on platter sized plates and they ate until they couldn’t fit one more bite. Daisy texted Sophia while Patrick inhaled his food.
Your husband’s face is broken.
Ehh, that’s nothing new. Your boyfriend really wailed on him this time. What’s going on there?
Connor found out I knew Patrick today when I was in the process of meeting the whole team...
Oof.
Patrick may have goaded Connor by flaunting our relationship.
Shit. That’s like fifth date baggage. You can’t fling that on a guy.
Yeah, I didn’t know practices would overlap.
Are you guys okay though?
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. Patrick, Grayson, and Roxie knew about the situation, but Sophia was the first to ask how she was.
I fucked up. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. But how do you tell a guy “Yeah I’m your biggest fangirl and have been lusting after you for ten years and I know everything about you, wanna bang?”
Yeah that’s rough. I’m sorry. Would it help if I made Patrick explain?
Oh GOD no. That would make everything worse.
Daisy put her phone face down on the table and wiped her eyes.
“Shit, darlin’, are you crying?”
She shook her head, but his asking made her tears fall faster, and she couldn’t play it off. She tried to wipe them away.
Patrick and Grayson stared at her in shock.
Daisy Mayes did not cry in front of people often.
She let her tears and anguish and pain build inside her until she was in the privacy of her own home, thank you very much.
On many occasions, she’d held both of these men while they cried.
Rubbed their backs and let them sob into her shoulder until they had no more tears to give.
But they hadn’t ever needed to return the favor.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to smile through her blurry vision. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Her brother rubbed her shoulder, unaccustomed to providing her comfort. Patrick’s foot found hers under the table, a show of support she was thankful she didn’t have to ask for.
“I fucked up, huh?” Patrick asked.
Without knowing what he said on the ice, she’d never know.
“I don’t know. But I for sure did.”
Patrick put down his fork and scooted further into the booth. “Come here, please.”
She joined him on his side of the table, and he wrapped an arm around her. “Tell me how I can fix it for you.”
“You can’t. I have to fix it myself.”
The next activity she’d planned for the Connors involved puppies.
It was impossible to stay mad when puppies were involved.
She arrived at the animal shelter a few minutes early to sign them all in as volunteers.
The person at the front desk had worked with her before and they had a solid system.
Daisy did the set up and tear down as to not stretch the shelter’s resources thinner than they already were.
She’d prepared their work stations and already cleaned out a few kennels when she checked the clock.
The Connors were fifteen minutes late. She went to the reception area, and then out to the parking lot looking for them.
Fuck. Daisy hadn’t considered they might blow her off.
Her phone showed no notifications. All she could do was get to work and hope they came.
Half an hour after they were supposed to have been working, they showed up. Relief washed through her and she opened her mouth to greet them when Valentine put his hand up to cut her off.
“We’re here for the dogs, Daisy. Not for you. Tell us what we need to do.”
Tears prickled at her eyes again, but she didn’t let them fall.
They were doing general grooming and intake for a few new special cases.
She showed them how to use the grooming stations.
The Connors would be working with dogs who were used to being handled and groomed.
When they finished setting up, she led them to the kennels and showed them which puppies they’d be working with.
There were different ages and breeds, but it didn’t matter. All dogs were puppies.
Hazy picked up a small, long-haired dog, and Daisy’s heart melted. It wasn’t a cute dog, but Hazy cuddled it close and let it lick his face.
Valentine chose a large lanky dog that trotted beside him and hopped into the bathing tub without hesitation.
Connor stood in front of a kennel with three bully breeds inside. He unlatched the kennel and stepped inside it, giving all three babies love before wrestling the wiliest one into a leash. She could have died from the cuteness.
The last available grooming station had a tiny sink, so she retrieved a cat carrier and a clean plastic tub filled with blankets.
The Connors seemed to be happy to work in silence.
Before she got started, she did a circle of the room, checking on the progress of baths and giving head pats to the puppies.
She filled the tiny sink with water and soap, then pulled a scared, filthy, emaciated kitten from the carrier.
Daisy started with a quick once over for any sores or other obvious issues.
She didn’t see any so she dipped the kitten into the soapy bath.
The kitten didn’t struggle too hard, but knowing how scared he could be she hurried to get the dirt and other gunk off him.
Then came the hard part. These kittens had fleas.
You could bathe and treat, but if you didn’t comb the fleas out, the infestation would never go away.
She rolled a stool out from under the counter and sat the kitten in her lap while she combed the fleas and eggs out of its fur.
Valentine finished his project first, the big dog being compliant every step of the way.
The dog shook out his wet coat and trotted over to Daisy to investigate.
She held the kitten closer, ready to react if the dog wasn’t gentle, but the wiggly giant was only curious.
He sniffed at the kitten and then politely sat and asked Daisy for attention.
She laughed and set her comb aside to stroke his ear.
“You’re such a handsome boy, aren’t you? All fresh and clean. And so sweet! Somebody better snatch you up quick.”
Valentine wrangled the dog into his kennel and came to offer Daisy help with the kittens. “Have you flea-combed before?” she asked.
He nodded. “I know you have to get them all.”
She walked him through the process as she finished the first kitten.
He worked at the sink for a few minutes before he wrapped his mewling kitten in a towel and started rubbing it dry in slow, gentle circles. “You know he’s married, right?”
Her heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches, but she remained focused and gentle on her task. “Patrick?” she asked.
“Yes, Patrick. He’s married.”
“Yes, I know. I was his best woman.”
“You were the best woman at his wedding, and you still think it’s okay to sleep with him?”
She looked away from the baby in her lap to examine him, unsure if that was a serious question. He looked at her with deep hurt and sincerity. She couldn’t help the nervous giggle that bubbled out of her.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I get why you might think that, given how our relationship was presented to you.” The irony of the reason they were so hurt was not lost on her, but it was lost on them, and that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
When she calmed enough to breathe, she waved a hand in front of her face. “Okay. Sorry. I cried myself to sleep the last two nights, so worried I wouldn’t be able to fix my relationship with you. And you’re not even mad for the right reasons.”
Hazy and Valentine watched her with curiosity, but Connor scowled. “Are you going to tell us the right reasons?”