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“Do you want it to work out between you two? What are you thinking?” she asks, wanting to know where I’m sitting before she gives advice one way or the other.
“With the way she ended things, I don’t know. Right now, I’m pissed off, Mom. For God’s sake, I was going to propose to her!” I force a deep breath into my lungs. “I’m just confused more than anything.”
She sighs, and it feels like a hug through the phone. “All I can say, Reed, is that you have to follow your heart. You have always known yourself very well. Let yourself feel that anger, pain, and sadness. Get all of it out and then reevaluate what you want. Don’t do anything rash or out of passion—you might regret it later. But above all, trust in yourself that you’ll make the right decision, whatever that might be. If you guys are meant to be together and you want that, then you will be.”
Silence hangs between us after her final word, and we sit comfortably in it. I process what she said, and I know she’s right. I have every right to be mad, sad, confused, or whatever the fuck I’m feeling without questioning it. I’ll be better in the end to let it out than keep it in.
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what I want yet,” I admit.
“And that’s okay. If you need to rant away or need anything, you know you can always call me. I know you’re a big, grown man now, but I’m here for you if you need me.”
My lips tip up at her offer.
“I know. Thanks, Mom.”
“Anything else you need to get out?” she asks.
“That was it.” I can’t help but laugh at how not funny it is.
“All right…” She trails off before changing the subject. “Abby’s birthday is coming up. The big one-eight. We have to do something special for her.”
My sister’s sweet face flashes in my mind, and a welcoming heat washes over me, like the feeling of sitting in the sun on a warm day. “Yeah, we do.”
Abby deserves everything she could ever want in this world. She is the kindest human on this earth and so selfless.
Abby has Down syndrome, and sometimes, people don’t always show her the same decency and goodwill that she does. Oftentimes, we try to overcompensate for others’ unfortunate behavior.
“Is there anything she’s loving a little extra right now? We could do something, like a themed party. Do you think she’d like that? I know the guys would love to help and be there, honestly. They all love Abby.” I volunteer their time because I genuinely know they would do that for her and for me.
“Oh! Barbie! We could do a Barbie theme. That is all she has been talking about.” My mom’s excitement builds with every word.
“Do you want me to see if I could get the rink for a night? I know they rent it out for dinner dates and shit to the public, so I’m sure we could rent it out for her party,” I say.
The arena is a venue we can easily, fully control. Who comes in, who comes out, et cetera. I can make sure my family and teammates are safe from any random strangers stumbling in. Abby is mostly who I worry about. She can be very trusting, and I love that about her. But not everyone deserves her trust, so I make sure that the only people that exist in her life are ones worthy of knowing her.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea, Reed. Find out what you can, and we’ll go from there, okay? I’m about to go pick her up from her yoga class though, so I’ll bug you later. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom,” I hum into the phone before ending the call.
I’m not ready to go home yet. I don’t want to be there by myself, wallowing in my sadness. I wish I could drag one of my teammates to do it with me, but I know that it’s not their burden either. I wish I just had something to cuddle with.
An idea comes to life in my mind, and I make a quick search to find the nearest shelter to me. Maybe I could get a companion, a furry one.
After mapping out the closest rescue, Loving Paws, I make the short ten-minute drive, the anticipation building drastically as I pull into the parking lot. I’ve always wanted a cat of my own. I want dogs, too, but with my lifestyle, dogs are really hard, especially when you don’t have someone else to raise them with. Cats still need lots of love and attention, but they are fairly independent if their needs are met.
I hope I find one, but I also don’t have anything ready at home.
Fuck, I didn’t think this through.
Maybe I’ll just go in and walk around, get some free serotonin, and come back another day to actually adopt.
Shutting my truck off, I throw my keys in my hoodie pocket with my phone and wallet and head inside.
The walls of the entryway are painted with flowers and paw prints; it’s cute. This is not what I thought I would be walking into. I expected it to be dark and dreary, and…well, sad. But it smells. I mean, like, it smells like animals, but not stinky. It’s decorated well and surprisingly clean.
“Hi. How can we help you today?” the lady at a desk to my left asks me.
I step toward her, setting my hands on the high countertop.
