“You know, if you’re not interested in that relationship, you better man up and deal with it instead of blowing her off. I won’t have you fucking up my sex life because she’s not interested in your tiny dick.”

“My dick isn’t tiny.”

She’s back to being pissed, thankfully. “Who fucking cares? That’s not the point. Why are you here anyway? Lance is a douche.”

“He’s not—”

A song about peacocks starts playing from her back pocket.

“Hold on.” She answers it. “Yes, he’s still here.” She looks me over and twirls her finger in the air. “Turn around.”

I don’t argue. I do what I’m told.

“He’s shirtless, and I don’t see any nail marks or hickeys through his matted fur.” There’s a pause. I can hear Waters muffled voice. Judging from his tone, he’s not very happy. “No. Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line, Alex. I’m not interested in requiring therapy.” She purses her lips and glares at me. “Are you going to Hulk out? . . . Are you sure? . . . Fine.” She passes me the phone. “Alex wants to talk to you.”

My phone buzzes with new texts and messages. I need to call Sunny. More than that, I need to reschedule my flight and get my ass to the airport. But instead I put Vi’s phone to my ear.

“Butterson, if you give me one of your bullshit excuses, I’m going to break your goddamn knees.”

Violet is making hand gestures. I can’t listen to Waters’ heavy breathing and the buzz of my phone and watch her at the same time.

“If you break my knees, you’ll be out for the season,” I say.

“I’ll get Violet to do it.”

Violet’s not very strong, so that’s not much of a threat. I don’t share this with Waters, though. He’s already pissed off enough. I make a noise of disbelief instead. Turns out that’s almost as bad as saying what I’m thinking.

“You think this is funny, Butterson? My sister is bawling her eyes out over fucking media snapshots of you and all your goddamn pucksluts—”

“I was asleep. I didn’t know they drew a dick on my face until this morning. And that girl dropped into my lap and started taking pictures. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He exhales like Darth Vader. When he speaks again, it’s much more softly. “This is your last chance, Butterson. If you don’t fix this mess, I’m going to schedule a meeting with the manager to tell him you’re a cancer to the team and you need to be traded.”

It pisses me off that Waters, of all people, drops threats like this. He knows better than anyone how the media misconstrues things. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you playing my sister and thinking you can get away with it.”

“Kinda like you played mine.”

“Don’t even start with me. You have no idea what it’s like to make sacrifices for someone else. Put Violet back on the phone.”

“Your boyfriend’s an asshole,” I mutter, passing the device back to her.

“Fiancé,” she corrects, flipping me off. She turns away while she has a back and forth with Waters.

I pull up my email and search for messages from Amber. She forwarded me one with my flight details last night. I open it and stare at the numbers and letters swimming together on the tiny screen. Under the flight times in her message is my entire monthly calendar. Everything is color-coded so I know what it means without having to read it. Practice is highlighted in red (there aren’t any this month because we’re off season), workouts in blue, free days in pink, travel days in purple, and time with Sunny is a red heart. I tried to get Amber to change that one, but she thought it was cute and refused.

At first I think I’m right and the flight is at nine tonight, until I read the message underneath. I’m off by three hours because I flipped the number upside down. I go back to my emails and scroll through the most recent ones. Amber sent one this morning. It’s a voice memo, thank Christ.

I hit play. “Just a reminder that you fly to Toronto this evening at six. Your tickets are attached in the email. I also picked up a few of the items on the list of things you felt might make good gifts for Sunny. Those are packed in your carry-on bag. Your luggage for the camp has been sent directly there to minimize the number of bags you have to take with you.”

Damn, she’s good. And she’s not even finished.

“An SUV has been rented for you,” her message continues. “All you have to do is pick it up at the airport in Toronto once you arrive. Sunny’s address and the directions to the camp will be pre-programmed into the GPS system. I hope you’re managing without me. Call if you need anything. I should have phone reception between today and tomorrow, but I’m unsure after that. You can always call Violet; she has all the information. So does your dad, but remember he and Skye are on a cruise for the next two weeks.

“This message will self-destruct in thirty seconds. Kidding! You’ll be fine, Miller. Good luck with Sunny.”

I should’ve known I’d mess this up. Things can’t ever be easy for me when it comes to dates and times.

I check the time on my phone. Vi’s right; it’s after five.

Even with my bags already packed, there’s no way I can make this flight.

“Come on, let’s go.” Violet grabs my wrist and pulls me toward an old-school Torino. It’s Waters’ car. I’ve only seen him drive it a couple times.

“I have my car, and I need my wallet.”

“Leave your car here. You need to rebook your flight, and you don’t need to be distracted with driving. It’s too much for your yeti mind to handle.”

“Can you give the damn yeti jokes a rest, please? I feel shitty enough without the insults, today, thanks.”

As I turn to go back into the house, the door opens. “Hey, man! There you are! I thought you’d taken off already.” Randy glances behind me at Violet. “Hey, how’s it going, Vi?”

“Hi, Randy.” She makes this sound, like she’s choking on something. Here we go. It happens every time she seems him. She can’t get past his name. And she thinks I’m immature.

I look over my shoulder; her whole body is shaking. She balls her hands into fists and pulls them up like she’s getting into a fighting stance. Then she thrusts her hips, not once or twice, but three times. When she’s done, her face is blotchy, and she pretends to be mortified.

“Get your wallet. I’ll be in the car.” She spins around and almost trips on her way down the front steps.

“Bye, Violet,” Randy calls after her.

She waves over her shoulder. “Bye, Ran—”

She stops, turns again, and gets back into a half squat. Her face is all pinched and weird looking. She cups her hands like she’s holding a pair of melons. “Balls! Randy Balls!” she yells.

“You do know my last name is Ballistic, right?” He’s smiling.

“You’ll always be horny nut sac to me!”

Then she runs the rest of the way to the car and slinks down in the front the seat like she’s trying to hide. It’d be way funnier if I wasn’t in shit.

“She’s a little crazy, huh?”

“Uh yeah. You get used to it. Eventually. I gotta go; I missed my flight,” I tell Randy as I brush past him, back into the house.

“You said it wasn’t until nine.”

“I got it wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Miller.”

“Yeah. Me, too. I’ll check in with you when I get to Toronto. You’ll have to send me your flight details so I know when to pick you up from the airport for camp.”

“You got it. Don’t worry about it now. We’ll get it handled.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll tell Lance you had to bail.”

“Thanks.” Randy is good people, even if he is a dickwhore.

I run up to the spare room and grab my clothes from last night, along with my wallet. I can get anything else I’ve forgotten when I get back from the trip. Lance won’t care.

Once I’m in the car, Violet revs the engine and books it back to my house. If Waters knew how she was driving his ride, I bet he’d shit a brick. Not that I care to tell him. That would mean talking to him.