Page 7 of Making the Save

Check.

Tank top?

Check.

Socks?

“Really? I left my socks on?”

“You said you didn’t like it when your feet got cold when you got up to pee in the night,” he said.

That sounded like me.

“What do you remember?” He said, his voice with that delicious low bass tone. Instinctively I harmonized with an A, well, I tried for an A, but it was mostly a B sharp.

“Are you singing?”

“No.” Because that would be ridiculous.

“Okay. What do you remember?”

“About last night?”

“Or the Spanish Civil war…whichever?” He shrugged and the whole bed moved.

“Is that… are you joking?”

“Trying.”

I realized he was trying to seem as un-bearlike as he could. He was trying to put me at ease. The effort was so sweet from such a big guy it actually worked, and I relaxed a tenth of a degree.

“Your name is Wyatt Locke,” I said, suddenly remembering. “You play…a sport.”

Again that smile, it made my heart curl up in my chest, like it was happy. “Hockey.”

“We met at the golf thing.”

“We did,” he said, and I got the impression he remembered way more than I did.

“Did we have sex?” I asked, blurted really.

“You’re not sure?” He asked.

“Did we have sex with our socks on?”

“Honey, we didn’t have sex. You would know if we’d had sex.”

“Well, the night is kind of a blur so I’m not sure…”

“Do youfeellike we had sex?” he asked.

“Uh…I guess not,” I said in that mouse voice again.

I got caught up in his brown eyes. They really were pretty. Like the glass of a smashed beer bottle. I used to collect broken glass when I was a kid. There was always plenty around in thetrailer park and I kept them in jars like beach glass but the trailer trash version.

“We didn’t have sex,” he said quietly. He reached up and touched my cheek, probably wiping away an eyelash or mascara flake because I undoubtedly was all raccoon eyes. But his touch unlocked another whole sequence of memories.

“You!” I cried.