“By the way, it’s your turn. I want to hear the North Carolina story.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Come on. Humor me.”
“I don’t know how much humor you’ll find in it.” I give her a sidelong look. “You sure you want to hear it?”
Gigi nods.
So I shrug and give her the bare bones. “One of my foster families in Phoenix decided it would be fun to rent a minivan, pile all the kids into it, and go on a road trip to Myrtle Beach. The mom had a sister there. We’d just crossed over the state line into North Carolina when we had to stop for gas, and—I think they made a movie about this, where they forget the kid at home? Well, they forgot me at the gas station.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten.”
“Poor little buddy.”
“At first, I figured they’d be back in a few minutes. They’d get on the road and then realize I wasn’t in the van. So I just sat there by the door, playing a video game that their real son lent me.”
“Real son?”
“Yeah. Most of the foster parents had their own biological kids too. They just tacked on a whole slew of other children to get the money from the government. But the foster kids were always second-class citizens. Real kids come first.” I see Gigi’s features soften and hurry on before she showers me with sympathy. “Anyway, I’m playing his video game, waiting around. An hour passes. Then two, three. Eventually, the gas station clerk comes out for a smoke break, notices me there, and calls the police. Tells them there’s some abandoned kid out there.”
“Damn.”
“The cops showed up and took me to the station, where I waited there for two more hours. They couldn’t track Marlene down. Her cell phone was dead, and I didn’t know the sister’s name because it wasn’t actually my family, you know? Finally, seven hours after they drove off, Marlene and Tony noticed I was gone. And the only reason they noticed was because their kid was crying and complaining that I took his handheld video game. They returned to the gas station, and the clerk was like, The cops took him. They came to the precinct to pick me up, and Marlene started yelling at me for making her son cry.” I laugh to myself. “I got in trouble for taking his video game.”
“You got in trouble,” Gigi echoes in astonishment.
“Pretty bad too.” I keep my gaze straight ahead. “Her husband liked to use the belt.”
“Oh God. And you were only ten?”
“Yeah.” I lean my head back, closing my eyes.
“There’s no scenario where my parents wouldn’t notice if I was gone for hours and hours. One hour, tops, and they’d freak out and send the entire neighborhood on the hunt for me. I can’t even imagine how awful it would feel being completely forgotten by people who are supposed to take care of you.”
There’s a slight break in Gigi’s voice.
I open my eyes and look over. “Don’t,” I warn.
“What?”
“You don’t have to feel bad for me. It’s over and done. I’m an adult.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for the child you used to be.”
“Trust me. That was one of his better experiences. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The family I lived with after that is pretty much the reason why I’m going to be playing professional hockey. The dad was a huge hockey guy, and when he realized how good I was, he basically took it upon himself to foster that, no pun intended. Bought all my gear, drove me to all my practices and games.”
“How long did you live with them?”
“Three years. But after I had to move again, my coach was already invested, so he took over and filled that mentor role.”
The conversation is suddenly derailed by a series of grunts from the speakers. Followed by snorting noises, then a cry that sounds like it’s coming from underwater.
“What the fuck is that?” I demand.
“That, I believe, is a hippopotamus.” Gigi flashes a big smile.
“You smile too much,” I accuse.
“Oh no. Arrest me, officer.”
I roll my eyes.
“I think the real issue is—you don’t smile enough.”
“It makes my face hurt.”
“But you’re hot when you smile. And it makes you look more approachable.”
I blanch. “Baby, I don’t want people approaching me. That sounds awful.”
Her mouth falls open in awe. “Did you just call me baby?”
“Did I?” I didn’t even notice.
“You did.”
Well…shit. I need to watch myself.
A brief silence falls. Well, not quite. The symphony of Dan Grebbs’s field recorder fills the therapy room. The timer should be going off any second.
“So, this thing we’re doing,” Gigi starts.
A chuckle slips out.
“What?” she says defensively.
“Nothing, I was just waiting for it. I called you baby. This was bound to happen.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For the what-are-we talk. I swear it’s encoded into chick DNA. Always need to know where they stand.”
“Is that such a bad thing, knowing where we stand? I mean, I know we only had sex once—”
“Does it count as once when the first night involved about a hundred rounds?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“You’re right. It’s like a dog years thing. One night was the equivalent of two years of dating.”
I snort like one of the hippos in the African bushveld.
“But…there’s no feelings involved, right? It’s just a physical release.” She waves a hand between us, then winces when the water laps over her chest. “Another tool in our training arsenal to keep ourselves loose. Right?”
When I don’t respond, she pushes the issue.
“Well?”
“You want to know if there’s feelings involved?” I offer a shrug. “I mean, it felt really good when I was inside you.”
“That’s not what I mean.” But I succeed in bringing a blush to her cheeks.
“It felt really good when you were coming on my face,” I continue.
She’s squirming in the tub now. It’s cute.
“Oh, stop that,” she grumbles. “We’re in an ice bath.”
“So?” I reach my hand beneath the water and rest it on my groin.
Her gaze doesn’t miss that. “Don’t tell me you’re capable of having an erection while submerged in ice water. Is your dick actually hard right now?”
“No,” I answer with a chuckle. Then I get serious again because I know she’ll take us right back here if I don’t. “Look. I don’t do feelings.”
“Ohhh. He doesn’t do feelings,” she says sarcastically. “Gosh, Ryder. You’re so cool and tough.”
“I’m baring my soul and you’re making fun of me?”
“Baring your soul, my ass. All I’m saying is, you can’t ‘do’ feelings or not do feelings. Sometimes feelings just sneak up on you.”
“Not on me.” Although lately I’ve been wondering.
She’s quiet for a beat before heaving a sigh. “I guess it doesn’t matter either way. I can’t see feelings developing either.”