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I typed a quick message.
Can I bring Norman?
Colton livedon the top floor of a forty-something-story building. The elevator doors opened right into his place, and when I stepped into the luxury loft, it smelled as if I’d been transported to a French bakery. “You behave yourself, Norm,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth as I took in the brunch spread.
“Gunnar!” Colton met me with a beer in hand and gave me a fist bump. “Who’s this?” Colton scratched my dog behind the ear and Norman groaned, his back leg miming the scratching.
I scrunched my brow and wondered if Colton was drunk. “This is Norman. I asked you if I could bring him.”
Colton slapped me on the back. “Ohhhhh. Norman is a dog. We thought you were bringing some rando.”
I laughed. Colton’s confusion suddenly made sense. “He just had surgery, so I don’t like leaving him at home alone for too long.”
“Oh, no. Are you feeling better, big guy?” Colton squatted to Norman’s level and he reciprocated with a full face lick. Wiping his face, Colton smiled. “I didn’t know that you had a dog. How old is he?”
“Twelve.” I realized it was crazy that Colton, the captain of my hockey team, didn’t know I had a dog.
“He’s got a lot of years left.” Colton handed me a beer. “I like dogs better than people.”
I smiled. Everleigh had said the same thing about horses. Maybe the two of them were more similar than they thought. “Me too.” I laughed. I’d been about to decline the beer, but changed my mind. Instead, I accepted the bottle and tapped it to Colton’s. “Cheers.”
After sipping, Colton waved for me to follow him. “Come on in, man. We’re just watching some old games. Help yourself to any of the food.”
“Thanks.” I took a seat on the sofa beside Mike, and Norman curled up by my feet.
Colton disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a stack of blankets. “Hey, Mr. Perfect, I’m going to put these on the love seat for Normy.”
Hearing his name, Norman abandoned his post by my feet and snuggled up next to Smitty on the love seat. Smitty absentmindedly stroked his soft ears and Norman looked like he was in heaven.
After some of the best brunch food I’d eaten in years, I relaxed and studied the games with the guys. I pointed out what I had seen in Liam Bradshaw and the guys agreed. If that kid got his shit together, he could be a legend. But some of the guys saw techniques and strategies that I had missed. “There!” Smitty shouted. “See how he dangled and then shot?”
“Fucking tight.” Corey nodded in appreciation.
“The guy is a hack,” Colton grumbled.
For the first time in years, I relaxed and enjoyed the game. With the others, it felt fun and less like a job. And for the first time since Everleigh and I had started fooling around, I was able to stop thinking about her – at least for a little while.
On my way back from the bathroom, I noticed a painting on the wall in the hallway. It was of a sleek black horse, drinking from a river in front of a very familiar little cabin. If there was any question in my mind that it was Everleigh’s cabin, that doubt was erased with the sweeping branches of the willow tree.
Colton caught me examining the painting.
“This is nice.” I pointed at the artwork.
“Are you into acrylics too?” Colton raised his eyebrows.
I laughed. “Not really. It’s just a cool-looking horse.”
Colton stood beside me and crossed his arms, as though studying the painting for the first time. “That was my favorite horse growing up.”
I pointed to the initials in the corner of the painting – E.K. “Is this one of your mom’s?” My instinct was to clap my hand over my big fat mouth. How would I know that Colton’s mom was a painter?
Luckily, Colton didn’t seem to notice that I knew more details about his family than I should. “Nah.” He had a faraway look on his face. “My mom’s name was Gloria. My sister painted this.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not for sale, though.” Then he walked away.
I couldn’t help but linger. I knew it was wrong, but I traced one of the brushstrokes with my fingertip. Everleigh hadn’t told me that she was a painter. I wasn’t an expert, but it looked like she was good at it.
“Hey, Mr. Perfect,” Corey Hambleton, aka The Hammer, called out from the door where a few of the guys were putting on their shoes. “We’re going to the pub for a drink. Come on.” They had Norman on his leash and he looked ready to follow Smitty anywhere he went. Loyalty was clearly not his strong suit. “It’s a dog-friendly patio.”
Colton leaned against the island. “You want some advice, Mr. Perfect?” His voice was low.
