Page 15 of The Other Side of Wild
“Are you around today?” I ask; for a second, I almost laugh at the hum he gives me. Like he’s sizing me up through the phone, he knows me too well; he knows I’m not calling just to chat.
“Yeah, want to come over for lunch? Wait, youwantto hang out with me? Are you dying?” His voice is just shy of mocking; I roll my eyes, and the heaviness lifts a bit at his jab. Did I mention he’s also insufferable?
I sigh, “You’re ridiculous, Tate; I’ll see you in a bit. Want me to grab something?” He grunts his response, a man of many words. “See you then, little brother.”
Walking into Tatum’s apartment, I sit in the same spot on his worn-in, black leather couch as I have every time I’ve been here since he got it. He lives with his teammate, Zeke; they both got picked up by the Strikers right out of college. Their living room is a mix of sports memorabilia and books stacked neatly on the coffee table. The TV is on, turned to the sports channel of course, but we’re not paying much attention.
He’s in the kitchen plating the burgers I grabbed on the way here. Why we can’t just eat it out of the wrapper, I don’t understand but I’m not going to fight him on it. “Sparkling water for Prince Charming, or are you okay with plain water?” He yells from behind the fridge door.
“Plain is fine; I don’t need to be bloated for dryland later.”
“Good call.” He hands me my plated burger, a bottle of water, and a napkin before sitting down on the other end of the couch.
“I know that look; let's hear it.” Tatum’s voice cuts through the silence, his words casual but pointed, like always. He’s got a sixth sense when it comes to reading me- an obnoxious yet comforting talent.
“I’ve been having some darker days recently. And I’m having a hard time pulling myself out of it.” By the way his eyebrows shoot up and he stops his burger midway tohis mouth, I’m guessing I caught him by surprise. That’s hard to do.
He takes a big swing out of his water bottle, puts his burger down, and wipes his hands on one of the napkins he brought over. Turning his body so he’s completely facing me, his eyes bore into mine. “Anything specific spur this on?”
I hesitate for half a second, the words burning on their way out of my throat. “Kara.” He freezes.
“Care to elaborate?” He bites out; patience is not his strong suit. There’s a reason he’s my confidant. He’s a man of few words, but when he speaks, people listen. He’s intimidating to the outside world, but he’s an ooey gooey cinnamon roll under all the gruff exterior.
“She’s...” Ugh, I hate this feeling. “She’s doing her usual thing. How awful I am, how sorry she is. We’re meant to be together. She’ll forgive me for leaving if I just come back. Same old bullshit.”
He barely reacts, but I catch the twitch in his hands. His eyes roll as he mutters something under his breath. I can hear the judgment in his silence. It’s whats I expected from him, though; he doesn’t indulge me when I spiral; he just calls it like it is.
He puts his food down, lacing his fingers before resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s not all though, is it?”
I’m caught off guard by the question, even though I shouldn’t be.“No,” I grumble, “I met someone. She’s stunning, kind, and driven. And she has a dog.” He plops against the back of the couch, arms crossing over his chest, and the signature Tatum Wilder scowl slides firmly in place.
“I don’t like it.” He huffs. I start to refute, but he cut me off. “No, I really don’t like it. You just got here, Greyson. Don’t throw away all the hard work you did to get back here for a woman you just met.” His voice hardens. “Is it worth getting shipped clear to the other side of the country again? Not to mention the she-devil, wonder if she ran out of money.”
“I’m not throwing anything away. And she’s not getting anything from me except maybe a restraining order.” Honestly, I should have changed my number the second she started. The idea of her worming her way back into my life is terrifying; she has this pull over me. This stupid ability to bring all my insecurities to the surface.
The aggressive force of his exhale gives away just how frustrated he is. His own issues with women have been a catalyst for his overly protective nature of me when it comes to them, even if I am the big brother. “Let me guess,” he mutters as he rubs the back of his neck, “this “someone” is a wounded stray, and she needs you to heal her?” His hands ran through his black hair, pulling it at its root before he sighed and leaned forward on his knees.
“No,” It comes out rougher than expected. “She’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox, and it’s driving me insane.”
His expression softens by the smallest fraction, “I say this with the most love I can, but I think you need to focus on hockey. This is your first full season here. Your relationship with Kara was a dumpster fire. Sure, she was a lying, manipulative prick, but look at what it did to you. You couldn’t get out of bed for weeks when you first got here. The person you were then was a stranger. I don’t want you to go back there.” I hear what he’s saying. I fall hard and fast; I’m well aware of that. And Hannah isn’t giving me any inkling that she wants to be more than friends.
In fact, I’m pretty sureshe implied I was a distraction the other day. Which in turn sent me into a different kind of spiral. One where I questioned if I was good enough to be anyone’s ‘someone.’ I mean, women usually throw themselves at athletes. Not Hannah.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll let it go.” Knowing full well he won’t drop it unless I say I will. He’s been on an anti-woman campaign since his ex turned on full psycho mode and almost ruined his career before it started.
Three hours later, as I was about to leave, I remembered something quite important. “Hey, I almost forgot. I’m helping set up a charity carnival Tampa Today is throwing; it’s benefiting local youth sports teams. My friend, Hannah, asked for my help; I may have mentioned that you and some of the guys would donate some jerseys and a team-signed ball.”
“Hannah?... A carnival? Have you told Dad? You know how he gets about kids in sports.” I do. Our dad is such a stand-up guy; every year since he’s retired, he’s taken it upon himself to sponsor an entire youth hockey team, buying them whatever gear they don’t have or need to be replaced; he also covers their travel expenses. I can only hope I’ll be half the man he is one day.
“I haven’t yet; I figured that was a conversation for when we all get together next.” Nodding in agreement, he gave me a hug.
“I’ll get you whatever you need, and if you need help planning, let me know. But keep your eye on the prize; I really think that’s the best thing you can do.Especially if you’re having more frequent hard days, pour it out on the ice.” Pulling away, I smack his chest, smiling as I walk out.
Greyson: Who wants to get dunked in a dunk tank for charity?
Andrews: Can I wear a white T-shirt?
Greyson: This is a family-friendly event, it’s for youth sports. So I’d advise you not to do that.