Thanks. I’ll be more excited once the shock wears off. David Stoneman just bought me lunch, can you believe that? And I wasn’t even weird.
Actually I was, but Stoney is also weird. I think we canceled each other out, or something.
I’m grinning like a madman in the front seat of my car. I barely register that Charlie is climbing in, because Beck texts me one more time.
Beck
Hey, Rigsy is forcing me to celebrate tonight. Beers at seven o’clock. He made a point to say you should join us.
Beers? I have a much more wicked idea for how to celebrate, and I’m just about to say so, when Charlie says, “Dad? Hi?”
My chin snaps up. “Hey, buddy.”
“Who you texting?”
He slams the door of my new-to-me truck a little harder than he should, and I hold back a sigh as I put down my phone and put the truck in gear.
“Who was it?” Charlie demands. “Was it Beck? You had that weird look on your face.”
“What weird look?”
“The face you make when you’re talking about him. Like this.”
I risk a glance at the passenger seat to see Charlie make a completely stupid face. “Buddy, please. I was just talking to Beck because he had a big day, and we’re friends.”
“Friends.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. I don’t even have to look. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Yes,” I growl. “Because that’s the right word.” I mentally add with benefits. But it’s still true.
And yes—I can admit that I care about Beck and that I was wrong to ever think he was too young to understand my life, or to matter to me.
His life and mine will diverge, though, sooner rather than later. Today’s performance insures that.
“Why haven’t we been to another Ice Cats game?” Charlie demands. “If he’s your friend, we should watch him play.”
“Only half his games are in Colorado,” I point out. “The other times I’ve been at work, or at one of your games.”
Charlie makes a disgruntled face. “But do you still see him?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. But I won’t be tonight.
As soon as I reach my driveway, I reply to Beck’s invitation.
Sorry I can’t celebrate with you guys. I’m picking up a shift at work tonight.
Work and more work. That’s the reality of the situation.
The next morning, though, when I pluck my phone off the bedside table, I find several texts from a strange number.
Rigsy
Hey man, this is Beck’s roommate. Remember me? You probably do, because you flashed me your package in my living room.
Did you not get the invite last night? Because it was kind of a big deal. I mean—I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you don’t follow hockey.
But he talks about you sometimes, especially after a couple brews. What a good guy you are. How much he likes your bar. And you.
He would kill me for this. But you seem kinda like a girlfriend I had once—great girl but she just wasn’t that into me. She let me dangle on the line instead of just throwing me back in the river. Low-key cruel.
