Page 17 of Catch and Cradle
“That sounds lovely. I’m supposed to have a video call with my brother,” I answer.
Both their faces light up. Paulina squeals, and Iz bangs their fork on their plate in approval.
“Your brother is soooo cute,” Paulina gushes.
“He’s like a puppy!” Iz adds.
Despite being three years older than me and an adult human, that’s a pretty accurate way to describe Zach. He is an adorable puppy. We have an older sister too, but Zach and I have always been the closest. I used to get into a lot of adventures—which other people called trouble—when I was a kid, and Zach followed me around like a patient golden retriever to make sure I didn’t get stuck in a culvert I was ‘exploring’ or decide to give homemade bungee jumping a try.
I did actually get that one set up before he found me and put a stop to it.
Iz and Paulina insist I say hi to him on their behalf, and after we finish our omelettes, I head up to my room to make the call. We’ve only got about half an hour to talk now, since I have to make it all the way back to the locker room and then the field for practice.
Half an hour until Becca time.
My brain has very unhelpfully decided to start referring to training as ‘Becca time.’ It’s getting pathetic. I literally just threw the final photo of my ex into the trash a few days ago, and I’m already all over someone else.
Mentally speaking.
Besides interactions on the field and a few team-wide cuddle piles to celebrate our wins, Becca and I have never actually touched—until that one night when she held me after Ethan broke up with me in front of the whole team.
If you couldn’t handle a serious relationship, you should have told me.
His voice fills my head, and once again, I start wondering if some of the things he said were true. If I was ready to be serious, would I even be thinking about Becca now? Am I just bouncing along from one distracting adventure to the next like I did when I was a kid, leaving it up to someone else to protect me and do all the hard stuff?
I flop onto my back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. There are a few unsettling cracks we all decided to ignore when we moved in. The macramé plant holder Jane got me for my birthday is screwed in over by the corner, swaying a little from the breeze drifting in my open window.
“UGHHHHHHH!” I groan as I smack my hands on the blankets a few times.
I don’t worry about freaking my housemates out. We’re a very emotionally expressive household. Somebody’s always making a weird noise somewhere in the building.
My phone lights up beside me a few seconds later, and I grab it and hold it above my face before accepting Zach’s call. His smiling face fills the screen, his tousled blond hair making him look extra puppy-like.
“Hey, Dopey Hopey!”
“Don’t call me that!” I wail.
His blue eyes—the exact same blue as mine—go wide. “Uhhh, okay. Is this a bad time?”
“UGHHHH!” I repeat my caveman groan and rock my head from side to side. “Sorry. I’m just in the middle of letting my feelings out.”
He tries really hard not to grin. “By all means, continue. Seems cathartic.”
“I think I did what I needed to do. How are you today, brother?”
“Can’t complain. I—”
He gets cut off by a shout in the background. “Is that your sister? Let me say hi! Allô, ma belle!”
The phone gets ripped out of his hands, and his face is replaced by his girlfriend, DeeDee.
“Hope, how are you? How is your hair?”
Her French Canadian accent makes her miss the ‘h’ in my name. Her own hair is a bright bubblegum pink, and she’s responsible for giving me the teal ombre of my dreams.
“It’s great! It’s barely faded at all.” I grab the ends of a few pieces and hold them up for her to see.
“Magnifique! I’ll give you a touch-up at Thanksgiving. You are coming home, yes? Zachy Zach invited me. I’ve never done a big Thanksgiving!”