What Goes Around...

Part Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

Cats.

Coop rolled his eyes as he dried himself after his shower. He still couldn't quite belief the antics of the day, he'd set out for a run, to clear his head, and maybe talk to Freya, and had needed up helping her to rescue two kittens. Completely not his thing.

He thought of the two terrified innocent faces wrapped up in his old surf t-shirt he'd bought years ago in Hawaii, one that had long since been relegated to work out and running attire. He was still incensed that someone could do that to an animal, but that didn't mean he wanted them living under his roof. Then he remembered her face, Freya's, as she cuddled those bloody animals. There was no way he could force her to give them up. He wasn't that kind of bastard.

And they had got on, whilst they were sorting things out they were almost back to the way things had been before Canada. He was glad about that. Pulling on some sweats he was looking forward to an afternoon in front of his Xbox, he'd received a new hockey game in the post, and whilst he had never wanted to do anything even loosely linked to the sport, but since stepping back on the ice a few weeks back...well he wasn't feeling quite so negative. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

Down stairs he put on a fresh pot of coffee, he booted the machine whilst he checked his emails. Then with a mug in front of him he flicked on the game and started to play.

It was years since he had got that engrossed in a game, but engrossed he was. The action was spot on, and he found himself as a character in a past 'all-stars' section. He'd never admit to playing as himself, but the more he played, the better his character became, and soon he was looking at end of season play offs as a Rangers first liner.

Not a patch on where he'd been a few years ago, but it still felt good to dabble back in that world, the world he'd loved so much. Just as he scored a hat trick goal in the third playoff game, the phone rang.

"Hi darling! How are you?"

Coop fought the need to groan out loud; instead he plastered on some enthusiasm, "Mom. Hi. How are you both?"

His mother gushed...it was going to be a long one. So he kicked back on the sofa and listened as she told him everything that had happened in the hours and days since he'd left...in great detail. His father was doing well, the sun was shining, and the golf club was about to have a charity day in aid of the local cardiac unit. She wasn't overly aware that he was only offering single words answers, but then that was the beauty of a mother, the ability to share a million items of information with only a couple being relevant.

"So you'll think about visiting for the dinner?"

he realised he'd drifted off in to a dream, he had no clue what she was inviting him to, or rather insisting that he attended. "Hmm?" He offered nervously.

"The charity dinner. In three months. You'll come, won't you?"

He was still none the wiser, "I'll see how busy things are, ok?"

Ending the call he replaced his coffee mug with a bottle of beer, he felt he needed it as he debriefed.

He'd barely sat back down when the phone rang again.

"Twenty minutes gassing and you still forget something. What is it?" He almost laughed, a few weeks earlier she hadn't spoken to him in years, now she was hogging his phone. "I bet it's cutting edge news."

But it wasn't his mother who spoke.

"Mr Cooper? Mitchell Cooper?" The anxious sounding voice asked.