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An uncontrollable chuckle leaves me, and I freeze, gauging if Hatty will wake up, but after a moment passes and he remains sound asleep, I suck in a slow breath.
“He’s never done this before. He usually sleeps on the couch in the living room. Bro, he’s actually starting to like me!” I practically squeal at the phone. “I’ll admit, part of me was getting nervous that maybe he never would.”
This time, it’s JD who laughs. “You are ridiculous. But I’m happy your cat is finally liking you. Someone has to, right?”
This fucker.
“Low blow,” I warn with a slightly playful tone.
He chuckles, then yawns and says, “Want to grab some breakfast? Might as well get the fuck up since I’m not going to be able to get back into the perfectly blissful REM sleep I was getting.” His tone sharpens at the end, and I smile.
“Yeah, I’m down. Give me a little bit though. I’m going to see if Hatty will let me pet him. You want me to pick you up in, like, an hour?” I offer.
“Yeah, that works. Gives me time to shower and shit.”
“All right. I’ll let you know when I’m on the way,” I say.
“All right, see ya then,” he mumbles before ending the call, and part of me wonders if he is actually going to get up or go back to sleep.
Setting my phone down quietly on my nightstand, I gently roll over and face Hatty. The second I stop moving, his eyelids flutter and open.
He stares at me as if I just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, and I restrain the urge to laugh. It’s like his plan was to sneak out before I woke up, and he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.
“Good morning, Hatty,” I whisper to him.
He studies me, seemingly unsure of what to do next.
Very slowly, I stretch my hand out and stop a few inches from his face. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t shy away. Neither of us moves; we just stare at each other. Then, for a brief moment, like the briefest of brief moments, he lifts his nose and sniffs my hand.
YES! That’s a fucking success in my book. I am going to make this cat love me if it’s the last thing I do.
Jensen and I went to IHOP for breakfast and probably ate way too much, but how can one not overeat when it comes to IHOP? It’s impossible.
After overeating, I drove our food babies back to my place, and we played an NHL video game, that we call Chel for short, for a couple of hours—or more like ten hours. Then, I dropped him off at his place, and I ran to a pet store to grab some toys and more wet food for Hatty. After I ran that shit home, I changed and headed to the arena for practice.
As I’m pulling into the parking garage, the annoyance and anger that I’ve kept at bay all day surges up inside of me when I see Charlotte’s parked car. I shouldn’t be so surprised she’s here, but it’s a punch to the gut nonetheless, knowing she is. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. As much as I want to hate her for ending us, I can’t help that I’m still hopelessly in love with her.
Parking my car, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys, and I start walking toward the entrance of the building. JD must have gotten here shortly after me because he is jogging to catch me as I open the door of the arena, holding it for him.
“Thanks, man,” he huffs.
“You are a professional athlete. How are you so out of breath from that jog?” I laugh as he crosses through the threshold of the door.
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not even breathing that hard,” he says defensively.
I don’t say anything, I just shake my head, smiling because he is in fact breathing that hard.
We say hello to the security guys and make our way to the locker room to get ready and gear up. As we’re passing some of the offices, I stop dead in my tracks at Charlotte’s voice. The door is closed, so it’s a bit muffled, but I can still make out the words.
Right before Jensen reaches the glass door of the office, I grab his shirt and tug him backward so we stay out of view.
“Get back here and shut up,” I whisper aggressively at him.
“What?” he says loudly.
Smacking my hand on my head, I whisper, “I’m trying to listen. Shut the fuck up!”
He holds his hands up, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Got it.”
